Blur

Fault me — I henceforth forego jitterbugging feet
Assert some bias in my blood which rejects dancehall beat

As time tiktoks, I cling instead to swaying with the strings
Tango, Pan-Hellenic sway, and all such passion brings

Step danced exclamations void of pop-cultural fray
Barefoot, solo, or with friends — come…blur night into day

Ad Hominems

These times

Jackhammer & pow’r tool sounds

Rattl’ing windows

Prayer flags far too still

Birds just took their leave

Late morning already

And me not yet dressed for the day

Make me wonder

Are we getting any rain

Bring on The Day

Sometimes pre-dawn feels like a SOS
An awakening, born out of distress

It is said back pain and a broken heart
Are the tools with which we turn life to art

If the angst you carry feels as though it’ll kill you
Then for certain, baby, morning holds your breakthrough

Aching Sunday

Tremendous love, resides inside

As an aria
Weightless and burdensome
How is it that such fullness
This nothing less than aching
Arrives and leaves me
Walking
Feeling
As a ghost on Sunday
An otherwise fine, fine day

And there are no ears to touch?

No Photos

The morning I think of giving up
Shades of moss green and orchid peaceably pull me back
As an elder, in Auto-Tune
Promising a child that dancing days lie ahead
An altogether different morning, now
That deserves
I deserve
A wholly-new and holy mind

Court Time

Something so delicious, I’d coach you if you asked

When you lay it all down at the end of a Day

Aching in your body but not in your heart

Then the special way to sleep, a position most perfect

To taste what I’m talking, all I can offer you is practice