miracle heart transplant

there is no Noah-gene abounding of me

no spin of the wheel offering another lifespan allowance equal to what you’ve long since spent

in silence, find truth

there is no infinite number of star-filled skies

no take-backs or do-overs, despite my shouts of forgiveness and this miracle heart transplant

in truth, find silence

Time

Do you, as I, daily perform an unending juggling act with the hours, grasping at fleeting minutes, feeling, by sundown, famished for time?

Who of us doesn’t wish to artfully turn the wretched clock into origami art that would sit silent and still on the wall and evidence beauty instead of lack?

Were it possible, I would wave my surely magic arms, and weave into the moments a stop gate, then take eternity to tell you, thank you, you were right, and I love you.

Without Filters

If I told you take your sweet time
The remains of my lifetime
I said it through believing eyes
Promising any number of hours
I’ll just be over here on a shelf
Having a cigarette
Waiting

Well, you know me
Always the optimist
The daydreamer with you
My sheer will ran dry
Three months and I did the math
There’ve been three lies
There’ve been three strikes

The Ask

I know what I want
Should I first ask to depose the light?

Let it chase me round and round
Me — play hard to get?

But at this point in human history
For what purpose?

With time unubiquitous
If not now, when?

With stars and firmament acting finite
To what end?

Becoming Midnight

Spent yesterday contemplating clocks
As humans have, from age to age
Many days, these hands sweep effortlessly
The pain hidden by some gift of grace
Yesterday, oh, the seconds though
Surely they doubled in gravity
Looped back and proceeded to wait….

This business of time is rather an art
So thus, must be valued as such
Will I wait one more night
One more day’s tick-tock ruse
When it seems only correct to go
Godspeed today
Where I know my heart must be tomorrow

Time Stealers

Thieving we were
Taking back, actually
All the sea had thieved from us

Putting away demanded perfection
This time
Substituting with the misshapen

Summer shoes gone now
We, walking away
Our crime ‘gainst the dark, to pray

Dud

I imagine the universe echoes us all
At some point distant, or close
Rings back like a lover, or brother, or friend
Then, silence -when you need them most

It’s possible love transcends murderous words
In subsequent lifetimes, or past
A dynamite stick, burning from both the ends
Its light soon to fizzle, it’s heat a mere flash

Uninsulated

Thank you for this window now,
Of thin and vintage time.
The safehouse to set a spell,
The anchored birch, my lean-to.
That I’d be reminded
In these gusty days
There is still
The reaching skyward
And strength to see it.