Things you already know

This is not a competition 

for who has suffered the most.

You are bleeding all over the table,

and you, more than anyone, knew  

that this was going to happen.  

You are not the first and not the last;  

and you will shrivel smaller

drier more bitter  

until at last you disappear,  

unless you look straight at the  

coursing throbbing hated heart of pain

let it fill your body, every cell,

dive deep into its lava center,

and thrown back onto the earth,

gasping for air, 

thinking you're going to die too:

the mess that's left,

unrecognizable  

but still you. 

Luminous

Are you luminous?

Are your layers light?

Does sun see

through

the marks you've made

the absolutely brilliant light? 

And glow like gold,

And shine like god

Cupped there  

In your trembling hands? 

Or have 

the years of having 

settled turned

your heart an

opaque grey? 

To you I give 

the brightest flame 

to melt and chase  

what's under

neath -

And I say run!

And I say fly! 

Fast across the

burning  

sky. 

No words

There are no words  

of any weight  

of any strength

when what you've lost  

has washed your world away

with one indifferent wave,

a great smashing blow.

No, it is not mine 

but I hold it,  

this broken shattered thing, 

just long enough for  

you to catch your breath, 

remembering how 

I could not lift  

a thing

when it was mine.

If only we could  

smash this pain   

of spinning on such

brief and fleeting  

ground. 

I know:

it's not just yours  

or simply mine -  

but all of ours. 

Yes, all of ours. 

Verdant

I purge this moment 

like a dog

shakes water:

tip of ears

to end of tail,

one long cascade,  

black clouds through 

bruised sky

then still,

like nothing

ever happened.  

-----------

You will not get in,

you will not make one mark

on still glass

with your tossed  

rock,  

one black print

on virgin snow 

with your careless 

boots. 

------------ 

I've built the most

exquisite walls: 

they are strong

and

they are true. 

Illusion

We keep our illusions 

safe in jars,

lined up on shelves  

floating

in colored liquid:

a science experiment

perhaps abandoned, 

more likely gone

terribly wrong. 

Easy enough

to leave the room, 

not look back, 

but you'll know

they are still there  

staring at walls,

at nothing

at all.  

I would take no chances,

run no risk: 

strike a match  

and get on with it. 

Clear light and  

open space await you.  

Do not forget

Do not forget to live, 

while you're busy

building your life  

brick by brick

stone by stone.

Do not forget the sun

is there each day,

the moon and stars each night.

They do not care about

what you're making.  

They beckon you:

come sit, come sing,

come wander.

Do not forget the gifts

and the invisible hands  

that give them. 

Do not be afraid to ask,

do not be afraid to say

thank you, and:

Do not forget to rest,

stop, get off the moving ride,

go back, go inside, 

and be in the still

deep shadows  

of your own brilliant  

ponderings. 

The Key

I have a key

to a red gate

that leads to land  

with a small sandy beach

on a narrow shining river. 

At the moment  

there are sloths

sheltered 

In cabuya trees,

parrots screaming

in the infinite rain.

I go there in my mind  

sometimes - 

Just stand there 

in the sun, 

in the future. 

I'm happy where  

my feet are now  

and also happy  

to have this key.

First Signs

Every year

they come back

to each joyous 

bare branch,

Without text, without call, 

or invitation at all -  

Light painted feather pink

yet strong against

the late March rain,

then solid green

the canopy  

our shelter from

the heat;

our refuge from  

the world

Old Things

Left with the imprint  

of voices  

familiar yet unknown -

Do we ever really know  

another? 

And what do we do with 

this warmest of gifts  -

heart beating, cupped 

in shaking hands?

Why did I say those things:

old things, worn things? 

To hold you captive in our  

war torn past?

To trap you

In shared 

knowing? 

In the twisted

dark familiar words -

trapped and small and shaking

When we are here

and we are now

laughing drinking,

old friends yes  

but I now promise you  

the gift of every

moment new

Gravity

I closed my eyes  

and found myself  

swimming back

deep in long ago

phantom filled soup

some of which I found

familiar,  

some of which I dream

i stayed with each frozen frame  

(just stayed) 

Let myself shift deeper

(and just stay) 

and I felt through it

saw through it  

it was just a feeling! 

I may have let something go

May have heard a click

somewhere far away  

wha we lived was grave

this I say as a fact: 

trauma is trauma  

with no room

to hide, 

and it would seem that

it needs to be loosened  

bit by bit  

rather than pulled

Meaningful Things

You were in my dream

last night

and instead of asking  

all the meaningful things  

I've imagined

I should have asked  

before you left  

but didn't,

I asked

if you wanted  

a crepe.

And you said

you didn't like them. 

That's it. 

You were just there,  

Like you were just here,  

And then you weren't. 

Nothing to ask. 

And everything  

that isn't said, 

you know,

you know. 

Nest

Wide eyed  

you might say

we float 

through our days, 

eyes on some prize  

we've dreamed up

or at least adopted.

I'm not immune,

but I'm aware: 

I don't know which  

is worse.

And I know exactly why:

It's from not having

anyrhing solid  

to hold onto.

And it's for her.  

And it looks like 

there will be

no not wanting

what we want. 

So I'm okay 

with spending  

this lifetime

building a  

nest. 

How to Be Here

I can't hold onto

the thread. 

My mind is elsewhere,  

nowhere, 

while the rest of me  

struggles to keep

the fire going  

the ball in the air

the car on the road: 

clumsy,

like learning to walk

but also new, 

an adventure!  

Only for those  

few moments  

but it stays with me  

the rest of the day  

Color by Color

My soul is tired 

of stretching, 

trying to reach the corners  -

just wants to curl up like a cat  

in the sun, for days

and then more days  

waking only to stretch  

and re-curl. 

-------------- 

I remember all of you: 

Moments pop into my head,

worse than an old commercial

I didn't even realize I knew

but that settled in my brain

nontheless

-------------- 

I unravel them like a spool,

unwinding slowly 

keeping them from tangling.

I let them drop to the floor,  

one by one, color by color  

as inocuous as a craft project  

sending specks in sunlight

drifting up

and making precious room

on the shelves

Just Fly

What makes us

question 

everything,

as if there's  

two of us  

or more:

chattering, 

hovering 

always looking

back.   

------------- 

A bird flies, 

does not wonder

if he's good enough  

What to do when  

he lands,

perhaps not go at all? 

And what must

the other birds  

think of him? 

Should he fly in circles - 

lose some weight? 

 -------------

As a feather 

drifts gently

on the breeze -

I just am,

I just do. 

That is all.

Moon

Do you see  

the story

you tell

every moment  

of each day

inevitable, 

yours?

The twists

and turns  

were mapped  

well before  

you planned  

your journey here.  

Your soul

stepped into

deep woods,  

dripping with  

yellow light,  

welcoming you

like a daughter, 

well before you  

dropped the silver  

thread  

forgot that even  

trees have stories,  

sun sinking low, 

moon following  

faithfully -  

hypnotic,

translucent,  

and still

in you. 

Escape

I question  

my own hand

this blank page -

observe my own habits

like a stranger  

helpless to stop:

I like my escapes,

sink into them

like new wool  

slippers,

a worn pair  

of perfect fitting boots.  

I sleep in on Sunday  

because I can.

Should I be better than this? 

better than I am? 

Or are we here to enjoy,

to be in joy? 

To sink into the sunlight

that's given us,

to finally have

a room of our own,  

and the freedom

to stay

or go.  

Nightmare

The nightmare

Ignored

Invisible

Misunderstood

And you just keep

Having fun

With these others

Even when I tell

You life is not worth living

You don't hear don't care

And I'm stuck between

Leaving and staying

In my rage, knowing

Neither will work

And there's nothing I can do

To make you care

Again

Wire

I don't usually notice

the arrangement  

of birds. 

Yet here they are  

every morning  

same stoplight  

gathered 

and chattering away.

Or perhaps assembled

each day in these  

long neat rows,

set to complete  

their very

Important tasks. 

But I know that

they are  

quite literally  

hanging out,

laughing at the  

speeding metal

monsters below, 

throwing our busy  

morning up

at them.  

Between

The space

between  

words,  

between  

notes

before  

the next storm -

the barely

perceptible  

breath,

can turn a page,

choose the path

that goes through,

shift from 

drifting  

apart

to remaining

here  

in the center

where the trunk  

splits -  

brown

to green