Friday, September 14, 2018

Midnight Radio / Darmok

 When the walls fell
 we stood in awe,
 arms wide.

 There'd never been
 any trenches, any bayonets,
 any soldiers, any uniforms.

 All these drills
 for nothing; and yet
 a word now and
 we still stand to attention.

Tuesday, September 4, 2018

Till St. Dymphna Kicks Us Out

 Of course, I worry
 about the tug and the call.

 Of course, I know
 I should learn to be alone
 in the dark apartment.
 Sit with the lemures,
 prickling skin an all:
 breathe in,
 breathe out, eventually
 sleep will beat them.

 Of course, I'm afraid
 to match my father drink for drink.


Saturday, September 1, 2018

Over My Head

 "No time is passing outside you at all. It is amazing.
 The late ballet below is slow motion,
 the overbroad movements of mimes in blue jelly.
 If you wanted you could really stay here forever,
 vibrating inside so fast you float motionless in time,
 like a bee over something sweet."
 David Foster Wallace, Forever Overhead

A gasp, a wheeze, silicone tears:
 How long was I under?

 The disorienting brawl of whitecaps,
 One dissenting heart-
 beat: How much of this
 did I ingest? How long

 till I forget my own weight;
 feel my skin scrubbed
 clean by the silver water,
 feed my calloused worries to
 the doctor fish, dissolve
 into silver sky; rise again

 as the sun begins to set.
 A sweet force, a forgiveness,
 a reprieve no one deserves
 and everyone ought
 to accept gracefully
 in their cupped, empty hands.

Friday, August 31, 2018

Your Belgian Things

 Tear down the scabs,
 fertilize the bleeding,
 till the pink fields.

 Let the raw flesh grow,
 expand the old wounds;
 let the light in,
 let the light heal.

 Let the summer winds
 confuse your directions;
 let the autumn rains
 paint those fresh keloids.

Friday, May 4, 2018

Going to Utrecht

 They put a rod in your mind,
 screwed the terrors tight.
 Applied a tourniquet to the gash
 until nothing moved
 below that dark surface.

 But were you really sick?

 You ate the colors until
 your eyes reflected them, learned
 to walk unafraid, learned
 how to safely ignore those dangerous,
 saccharine poison whispers.

 And are you really well now?

 Well, can you put weight
 on your mind? Can you get on
 that train of thought?

 Then there's work to do.


Wednesday, November 22, 2017

Here Comes A Regular

 Blessed are the hopeless
 stumbling beneath their own weight,
 hiding in the farthest corner.

 Blessed are the hopeless,
 carrying their bottles
 every day of the week.

 Blessed are the hopeless
 and their poimenics of despair:
 no one to see more clearly
 what hope won't do for you.

Wednesday, November 15, 2017

Porchlight / The Mummy's Hand

 So stubborn the porchlight
 over your open door.
 So harsh your voice,
 so hollow your promises
 that we'll rise from this depth

 So cold your hand on mine.
 So stubborn your love.

Tuesday, November 7, 2017

The Day The Aliens Came

 Relocate to the land of fast friends.
 Expect they'll be eager to
 sound the tortured depths
 of your complex continental character.

 When that doesn't work
 (without a word)
 get up and leave
 (without a word).

 Always doubt yourself.
 Always doubt everyone else's
 sincerity. Still trust them
 blindly. Expose
 nothing. Never once
 doubt the sanity of that approach.