Why did you act like water and feel like hands
And I, born thirsty with never a progenitor to touch me
Why did I, the reluctant saint, concede nonetheless to True North’s tug
And you, the only lesser god ever worth worshipping
Tag Archives: Poetry
Inside
I’ve not found a whimsy
Riding on The Wind
As the snowflake
Who knows The Direction
So stays the course
And I cannot go outside
Perpetuity
Theater of the absurd
You, an understudy into perpetuity, and not a soul who will say why
Though they know
Sworn to silence by some darkness, by some angel
Enter they, the arena, to take their places, their cues
Applaud, then heckle, then leave without a fight, or even debate
To Walk
I come close to your heart and for me it beats in The Rhythm that eases the doubt that vies for room in mine and what becomes clear but God, who is not at all the tiny god we create to suit our short-sighted purposes and to please our mind’s eye, but instead Who emerges is God who created my heart and your heart, matched them together for glory and gave us a purpose eternal and we enjoy this.
Sleep
I fear the night knows I slink at its entrance, cowering quietly in its presence
I vacillate between prayer and submission, hysteria and acquiescence
I sleep fitfully, sporadically, the night sky screaming at me
I awake thirsting and alone, wanting back more than lost sleep
Repair
You’re not the tea type, to me. Ancient you aren’t.
You think you are. But I think you’re raspberry hot chocolate.
Take this endless cup. With my reckless invitation.
Delve. Repair into the wild, earthen past and the rich insanity ahead.
We, hot chocolates in hand, casting our cares. Setting a spell.
Busted
I wonder if my eyes weren’t broke
Had they not spent their last red cent
Denying warning flags and the like
What would I see instead of circles
Sad, red circles, dark cycles
Looking like pendulums and roller coasters
Would I see I’ve chased my tail
Someone else’s short-sighted plans
And not at all my own red heart
One & Only: A Haiku
What is it I want?
Lightning from your fingertips
Baseball talk with you
Serpent on My Shoulder
Clark
You were spoiling me, delivering the morning news to my doorstep
Changing headlines to all that I needed to read, nothing less
You were educating me, either that or reprogramming my heart
Carrying its weight for free, lightening the burden of beating again
You were reminding me of me, the me I was and am and cannot never be
Speaking life into an atrophied smile, why’d you die?
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