Sunday, February 3, 2013

Neurons (1)

I know now that neurons are stars,
Forming galaxies held together by arms reaching
Longing projections, drag themselves
Through mud, mire, and swamp
Until they touch, afraid to be alone.
I still do not know what secrets they share
In flashes of light, almost language.
I will never know how they must feel,
Unable to be alone, forever nested,
I will never know how it feels,
To never have to be alone.

Saturday, January 26, 2013


Isolated notes seep in between the songs,
Discordant sounds go first un-listened
Until the tempo slows, volume rising
Drowns out uplifting melody,
Beats a lonely dirge into heart.

Small things brought happiness,
Speckled leaves graced the ground,
The word was new again,
New words quickened laughter,
Tones resonated more child-like,
Even bitter chocolate was cheerful sugar.

I wait day and week and month,
No one plays redemption. 


A young man wanders the world;
He loses his name in wonders,
Dissolved in warm oceans of bright fish,
Dispersed by crystal winds on cold mountaintops,
He scatters the letters undaunted.

All things seem gold and glitter,
Captivating angles of the prism reflect life,
Time brews even coffee into lethargy,
Distills even water from stone.

The world goes grey.
And, all sounds became silence.
Trees black and white,
Moon without a face,
A laughing maudlin beyond our sphere.

The young man walked the world,
Cold earth between toes,
Slime creeping up the back of his sole,
Still he stayed clean.

He speaks to those around him,
Loses touch, tries to remember,
Asks for whispers of his name,
None know him,
He is a particle unbound,
A snowflake drifting almost melts,
A tree with dead roots waits to fall into shadow.

At last, he comes to an old man,
With a beard as white as his dead eyes,
Eyes grayed by too much sight,
And he asks again for his name.

The old man stares, sees nothing,
And says, son, your name fell here,
Drenched in memory,
I keep it in my heart beat.

Tell me, he begs,
The old man keeps staring,
Unseeing and unbreathing,
For he too had died.

Friday, January 25, 2013

Killing My Wife

A sorrow consumes me,
I seek to rid myself of it.

Like dependents need insulin,
Tight wound strands finger forward
To lock in place and be complete,
Slowly, activate, no half-truths,
No remorse.

I sit here, look at white tiles,
While the hospital kills my wife.

Unborn but bred, disdain the words
And tell of needs, individual,
Unheard. The woman gets no substance.
Ignored, the nightmare starts again,
Only after I awake. 

Into the Dark

These tunnels go far.
Around in lightless sea,
I dreamt of swimming,
Silent waters drifting over me.  

We could take them.
He wanted to see
Vast ways of the underdark.
He wanted to be    
Where stars cease to gleam.

Let’s keep going.

Would you dare?