Month: September 2024

I fell for these inventions —
not only my own —
and rapt in pride,
trapped myself.
And on they came,
these heaviest chains of blame,
judgement and repulsion —
ensuing shame.

I take it all on —
oh, the faultline,
my fault.
And no wonder,
gravity’s skew,
the broken, sunken boat.

Whence discernment?
Most of these pages are not mine,
but the contributions of thieves.

Burn it.
Bury it.
Relish defiance,
and throw it to the ground
(like that book in the dream).

The matter of the remainder
is the simplest thing:
Hone it.
Sculpt it.
Worship its empty pages,
its unpainted canvas.

Whittle it back down to worthy.

What is it, anyway?
Poke it with a stick
and run away.
It’s gonna chase you up the stairs,
depress your acceleration
and leave you broke on your back.

How long now have you been holding your breath?

Oh no —
let it go,
but gently,
but kindly —
keep moving the magic and lighten up.

“I feel the earth move…”

It knocked me on my heels
when I’d already been un-balanced —
dashed and damned expectation,
and the wrong math of two into one,
and so —
from every direction,
foreseen and unexpected —
Pain.

Now the steady tectonic shifts
in my accumulated sediments
have reached a crux —
fuse, build —
slowly, slowly —
the mountains’ top,
or quake, break —
the deepening fissure of ache.