---

∴

i could not decide what i wanted to be

when i grew up,

if i grew up,

 

and so i asked

a very wise woman

who loved me:

 

what should i be?

 

she said,

 

“you are to be all things for good

and not one thing in perfection.

life is not a sport of exclusion.

make room.

let go.

be in the pot

that you may be stirred

with all else

that surrounds you.”

 

i unfastened the leather strap

from her slippers

to see her feet

and make sure she was real.

 

then i poured what little oil i had

over them

in thanksgiving.

∴

 

 

---

 

---

∴

there is a vast, open plain
upon which i walked;

wandered, really,

in serpentine circles
and distracted by wayward butterflies.

 

the assumption was:

it was free.
i was free.
out there.

and perhaps i was,

but only free enough to go nowhere.

i orbited only my self
and in my self there is no sun.
thus, i sought my own perimeter.

 

on the edge of this expanse
of tall grass and wind laid branch,
i have found a trailhead
whose entrance is dense and brambled.

it is only one road.

it does not fork

or splinter,

but still,
it does not lose
its way.

the course seems sure
and sacred,
as far as i can see,

which probably isn’t very far
in relation to the road.

∴

 

 

---

 

---

∴

here they come,
marching like benign little ants
that carry fortuitous loads,

heaving,
despite their small stature,
tremendous weight,

as bystanders chortle
and see nothing, really, at all.

 

’tis a crumb.

’tis but a crumb.

 

but they continue
without relent,
and advance, –

grains of days
borne on the backs of babies –

and build at the destination
of our slumbers.

 

we stack mornings
like bricks
upon themselves
until at last,

our structure
is made
and our eras pass
as complaisant as the soldiers
that built them.

∴

 

 

---

---

∴

we are easy to love
from over the hill,
where the grass is greener
and the sun shines, just so.

the sounds that escape
are praises sung,
and laughter rung,
and trumpets that proclaim our laurels.

but nary a noise from darker valleys
shall rise up
and over the mound.

for the gurgles we breathe
to swallow down shame
are diffident
and timid
in dales.

these sounds stay tucked at the collar
like neat bow ties
and bonnet strings
and lace the mind
as to not climb higher.

 

loose.

loose these tender nooses
that we may lay their cords
away
and move from shadowed gorges
onto well-lit ridge.

∴

 

 

 

---

 

---

∴

i must find new music.

my library is filled
with sounds of you,

and the songs
saturate the space
with silence.

 

i guess i’ll cut my losses.

 

i know
some tunes will keep like
sachet scents
that have been
hidden in drawers
and tucked under towels,

and they’ll waft in
from time to time
when i least expect it,

and i’ll let myself dance, then –

again –

with you,

or the you i knew,

 

until a breeze
takes the verse away –
blown back to yesterday –
and remembers me to a hush
once more.

∴

 

 

---

 

---

∴

is it woman?

calling from the caverns
that closed with age,
and locked tight
against the forgetfulness of man
who thought these stones
too scary to climb?

 

we,
peace-making
warring planets
that float in forgotten nebulae:

can you not feel the spin?

our centrifugal force
that aches to bring out
all that’s in?

 

my bones remember you.

 

in eyes met,
i espy you;

but not in us all,
for some asleep
still fall.

 

what sweet recognition, then,
when the waters of tears
melt our veils of amnesia,
and we bravely
see each other
in each other
and smile silent
salutations
of knowing.

∴

 

---

 

---

∴

i have figured out my way
around solitude

in the way a child knows the contents
of its toy bin-

who arranges the soldiers for battle,

the blocks for cozy buildings,

and the puzzles,
which always
fit together so nicely,
no matter how many times he takes them apart
and rebuilds.

rebuilds
the little connections
that were etched
and matched,
like arranged marriages
that work.

 

but to find my way
in the companionship
of others

is a labyrinth
i am infinitely lost in.

 

it is a dance without steps.

 

and so i find myself
in corners
to keep the beat
or carry the tune,
and wait for
the safe maps
of exile.

∴

 

 

---

---

∴

there is a chasm,

father, husband,

preacher, lord,

in front of which i stand.

 

it is harrowing –

the depth of my own soul.

 

how deep it goes, i do not know.

 

for all the vision of myself

i viewed through handsome eye

and aligned myself with virtues

that in your virtues, lie.

 

as i step forth now,

girded and groundless,

i question how i was made.

 

am i stronger by the falling?

or on these ledges, stayed?

∴

 

---

 

---

∴

the loss of a friend,
i think,
is harder than that of a lover.

for how else do we soothe
the loss of lovers
but by the aid
of good friends?

 

these precious personal confidantes
cheer us on
in the pursuit of ourselves.

 

is there anything of higher value?

 

for i have come to learn that a lover or a spouse
might only cheer the pursuit of themselves
in you.

– that a child will grow
(as they should)
up,
and out,
and away.

– that a parent fades protections
(as they should)
into well-wishes, and general correspondence,
and holiday dinners at one.

 

but a friend is not thusly invested
in the withdrawal of accounts.

it is in the dividends
of time spent
that we are paid.

 

there are few who are given this authority:
to adamantly confirm our rightness,
and scoff at a world that doesn’t “get us,”
while making safe spaces
to reveal our faults
in full disclosures
and see how wrong,
but loved anyway,
we are.

∴

 

---

 

---

∴

sometimes love runs so hot

it colors beyond blushing

and flares to neon orange

and smoke.

 

as long as the fuel survives,

it burns there,

in pulses and steam,

and dyes everything around it

with its hue.

 

anything you see near it

in fact,

is lit

by that glow.

 

it can burn so hot,

that the wire it was carried on

pops

and disconnects

like a hair clip loosed of its hinge.

 

and then love extinguishes itself

like a blown filament

that dangles in glass cages.

 

it becomes a relic:

a stilled, incorrupt saint

that proves love is,

but will not speak

or animate.

∴

 

 

---