With brazen will, our minds unfurled
to draw boxes and contain the world.
We sharpen our weapons and our wits,
depicting Truth as our theory fits.
But despite our wars of sophistry,
you are still you, I am still me.

–April 2009



Slices of tomorrow, seeds of yesterday,
flesh beating against the teeth of a blender…
A juicy instant calls me astray,
coaxing, pressing, dangerous and tender.
Deadlines slip, seasons sway,
memory condemns… hope is slender.

No regret of yesterday, no promise of tomorrow
can justify this frail, seeping moment.
Severed from dust, dreams, angst, and sorrow,
I own nothing beyond the present.

–May 2005


Beneath Winter

A still, smoky afternoon
is a scene through any hotel window…
Inspiration is weeping
for wings that cannot catch on my soul.

Restless and scattered and out of tune
like claustrophobic chords, the hollow
years spent in chasing and sleeping
have left nothing for me to control.

I’m longing for a thought to strike soon
as I lie, aching through the pillow.
On a rock where nothing’s worth keeping,
I want more than dust to make me whole.

–November 2004


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