I am embracing the myth of eternal love, the never
ending, the always, the all and everything that is…
because it is…I am creating that place, that moment
suspended; dragged across my consciousness
landed in my field of view, impinging on my life—I am
embracing the myth of Olympian love.

I am looking inward to see outward

I am falling hard and fast toward that ever-after, that
middle of nowhere/never surrender life; giddy awareness
of shaking tenderness, of waiting and having while
knowing and not knowing battle in my perception, the
mystical remnants of an historically holy effervescence
cushioning catching me as I fall hard and fast

I am rushing into slowing down

I am utterly swayed and deluded into the idea, the scent
of acquiescence permeating me, staining emotions
creating scars of remembrance where once I only owned
dreams visions feelings of a past tied into small tight
knots of misunderstanding, only an inkling of the depth
of my delusion, the swaying of that untouched idea

I mistrust in order to believe

I am embracing and I am deluded and I am falling fast
and hard with full awareness with no reservation with the last
card turned up; I am here and I am here, again and again
always pushing my dreams into the next frame, the pre and the
post-apocalyptic idea that my narcissism itself will bear me
toward that Olympian ideal, toward that eternal love.

I am choosing to have no choice.

We are all moving toward and
away…truth…and the falsity of
life of living with eyes that might
be closed, with arms at our sides
we don’t know what is in front
behind within but we go

How many things don’t we know
don’t we feel, that exist nonetheless
apparent not to us but reality eyes
daily…a mixture of solidity and
conformity, a monument to the idea;
unaware but we know

Momentum carries us past our own
stupidity into realms of discovery, not
planned sought searched for; we
find ourselves in spite of ourselves
all the while pretending a life of
happiness evolves slow

Amazing as it is, these ideas these
minutes of madness, these insights all
tied to the motion of simple lives, we
are nothing but energy, dark matter
waves of conscious devotion to being
alive, but it’s just flow

We see the stream, feel the pattern
of volume, push of time against
a feeling reluctantly accepted…so
we wait for anything; looking for
the movement of a single molecule
toward the truth we know

There is no truth in the sense that it
is man made, a construct; morality as
matter we create the contrast in order
to see…we divide in order to later
reconstruct with congratulations on
our roles in this well played show

It is a difficult impossible
demanding thing, this
honesty this reality bridging
across people, from me
to her/her to me when
it’s clear & bright; a crystal
day of awakening—of
moments reflective
movements toward truth
toward realization and
acceptance when what we
want are two separate
vectors of energy of focus
and attention…a future not
to be shared—found recent,
uncovered in thinking feeling
having the minute second to
look inside and realize…
separate then from now
from tomorrow when the
pressure of understanding
lifts, unveils a meaning
thought lost thought missing
thought impossible…a knowing
that was heretofore unknown
never meaning to hurt to
harm to destabilize and cause
pain; simply a byproduct of trying
of tasting before eating…reading
labels aren’t enough to create
that idea of what it is when
what it is, is not what we imagine
want feel while we learn to
live love and accept that it will
never be perfect, right always
and ever.

it is a small convenience, this
viewpoint this introspection, this
simple selection narrow perception
that allows us to know what is missing
…experience with unfeeling latitude
all the rigors of learning without the
benefits of feeling living breathing; it’s
all we do I think, well…we think with
closed minds closed hearts, we allow
the shiny hard shell to converge to
coalesce around us to create that
distance that miles wide chasm of
indifference as we think about a place,
the place, we sit at stand on/live in
without consequence connection
without emotion…growing slowly ever
slowly never creating consistency
between us…in that chasm of empty
grayness…we watch helpless the days
extend and pass and months and years
fly with mutually offended sensibilities
all gathered on sheets of vellum…written
words of sadly stained beauty that we
can’t know even when we know that what
we are missing is nothing less than us, 
the inside seen from the outside…seen
through eyes not ours…seen through the
dismissed notion that people matter that
ideas have weight that I am dependent
on and wholly and universally derived
from you and you and you and…I am
contrived to be a single part in a trillion
billion hundred thousand…one…moving
on pathways created by the searing
heat of consciousness, following the
motive energy of love toward the end of
a long and lustrous dream

Was at the art
museum looking
watching feeling
the colors textures
the walls, the
cases–glass boxes—  
filled with created
ideas birthed by
hands and tools
metal glass stone
beauty made from
nothing more than
what was there
when nothing was
there

I looked at Rothko
Warhol Klee
Rauschenberg
de Kooning …
thought how unafraid
how secure in
empty space how
large and spare
areas weren’t;
frightening—too
empty too much
nothing—all things
that pushed me
away from thinking
from applying

I am thinking now
of my art; of small
and large of
emptiness as a
means to fullness
of leveraging the
weight (simple
heaviness) of the
void left by my
fear…and I feel
my nakedness, my
inabilities crowding
but the emptiness
beckons and calls
me out.

A canvas stares
back at me

waiting

I am who I am from the paths
the hurts the joys the failures
the successes…the wants and
needs; a pointillist portrait, it
creates me.

There is a sadness lost…also
silent sitting on dreams of
touching feeling seeing…on
moments once had now, not,
…felt/remembered.

I am those memories dreams
wandering sadness, seeing
all nothing wondering where;
feeling the texture of loss, of
knowing less.

There is a moment felt long
ago, brought back from an
edge forgotten…pushed into
a past undefined, unknown
always lived.

I am living what I don’t know
forgetting what I do…always
pushing you away grasping
toward a void an ethereal
mist hidden you

There is a ghost in my lungs
I breathed in when you left
it lives in me, a sad shadow
something once felt, had,
lived in…loved.

I am in ways a little part of
who you were, small stabs of
your smile/tears/pleading
eyes waiting for me to wake
to become me again.

There is an indentation, a
mark where the weight of
who you were to me, to my
future, self, today and
tomorrow…it was here.

I am better for the passing
worse for the wait, always
watching proud/envious/sorry
while your shadow fades from
my stained soul…

There is a picture; you indelible
in my dreams—back straight
standing tall upright sad and
smiling—you walking away;
far away eyes.

She asked where are my

kisses, this morning, now

…this afternoon and I tried

to remember, tried to find

them floating sighing…all

waiting looking waiting for

the moment, the minute

when they land–a butterfly’s

wings slowly unfolding in the

morning light–the dew on

green grass on the idea that

where I am is not where she

is…and won’t be for days

for years in those too solid

little minutes spanning the

chasm between us…between

the "had" and the will have

soon and I smiled knowing

where those kisses are.

There’s a ghost in my lungs
I breathed in when you left
me and now it lives there, a
sad shadow of something
once felt, had, lived in and
loved..a memory lost on edges
of yesterday

Time is an arc, a cavern, a cave
the moment of waiting when a goodbye
is made

My head fills with that shadow
rising from my chest from my
past I see feel hear her eyes
her voice a echoing melody…
her touch lasting for long
seconds on hot skin on fingers
on expectations

The echoes last on resonant
reverberation, the frequency  
moving atoms against atoms
against the chance that what
was…might be again but a sad
reasoning makes it clear; the
stain fades away

Time is an arc, a cavern, a cave
the moment of waiting when a goodbye
is made

The ghost holds on but lasting
out time is impossible once the
heart no longer notices the stain
hears the reverb the little motion
air against air an echo falling a
long long way through time and
transparent to my past

Time is an arc, a cavern, a cave
the moment of waiting when a goodbye
is made

Where we live where we were born; where we
were torn, alone, where we think from and sink
from in love and in hate, of knowing ignoring what
we try to call fate, in pain and our joy we are
just natures toy…just a girl…just a boy

The moment inside us; tells & defines us
motions and minds us…ties we can’t loosen, cut
free or choose them, see them or free them or barely
believe them…a moment forgotten; hidden & rotten 
never remembering the things that we’ve gotten

This thinking will kill us

Who we are; results of what we touch see feel
surrounding our thinking, swimming and sinking
barely to get out alive, more so to decide..or hide
thinking that this is all there is when it is all we
ever really see, can be, believe and create from
the person version conclusion we’ve become

The moment inside us that tells & defines us
that motions and minds us…ties we can’t loosen, cut
free or choose them, see them or free them or barely
believe them…a moment forgotten; hidden and rotten
never remembering the things that we’ve gotten

This thinking will kill us

What we can be; never discovered never uncovered
this thinking we have is a weight on our shoulder, an
immovable boulder, if we don’t get smarter we’ll only get
older but how can we see when it’s us in the way, with
nothing to say nothing today…an empty yesterday

The moment inside us that tells & defines us
that motions and minds us…ties we can’t loosen, cut
free or choose them, see them or free them or barely
believe them…a moment forgotten; hidden and rotten
never remembering the things that we’ve gotten

This thinking will kill us

We work we live we laugh we forget the
world, the one we run jump eat sleep breath
survive in, systemic suffering lying just
outside our notice our tick tick tick measure
of what is now and what is not

We work we live we laugh we push our
brothers fathers mothers children to the brink
of the edge/the line/the place that says that
what is there and what is here…is all about
forgetting…

We work we live we laugh while bedrooms
burn while old people get older get sicker
get longer away farther toward an end we
fear we see and our lives sit unchanged
unabridged and free to expand

We work we live we laugh while our parents
descend toward an end running running
away from us…while what we need is to
learn have to learn that this moment this time; 
a simple arc of revolution around the sun…

We work we live we laugh we need to have to
want to say I love you when I love you is what
we mean feel/is in our soul/in our eyes/in our
voices as we live (try to live) with memories and
other lives mentioned remembered replayed

We work we live we laugh because we try try
try to forget the pain the joy the soaring happiness
the plummeting fear…the all…that we were
when we were with them when now is the instant
that we can never be there again.