A still, clear pool like unmarred ice 
A two dimensional window into fathomless depths 
Time not yet begun it’s relentless wheel, stasis offered to your awestruck eyes 
Dare you toss a stone to shatter the time before? 
The innocent beginning of all, cast into the yawning void, the birth of a universe held in ambivalent grasp
Dare you not toss a stone to shatter this eternal before? 

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Congress of Mind

Congress of mind
Legislative limb of this body of reason
Billions of cells cry out to be heard
Elected by instinct, opinions thus interred
Reach past the dirt that covers
Break out of silence's somnolent sequester
come back
come home
Eyes no longer lost in wandering lament
nor sight sight veiled by cataracts of mal intent
Turn back your gaze to whats outside
The sun's caress sure to abi...

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Lake Placid

Drown in the present
drink deep time's antidote to fill the minutes before and ages to come
Though lungs crave logic for ego's breath, the universe through just two eyes 
Drink in the present til spasms stop 
and brain stem stutters take root in the calm of time's demise
What plans to craft of future or past 
when time has breathed its last?
No aim, no blame, nor ripple furl 
of infinite o...

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Frayed blanket end

Look left, look right
look up and down
this world is yours to grasp
But how, you ask, can tiny fingers cage this winding land?
Skeins of yarn that track behind
this tattered blanket's end
Scurl and furl, the webs of fate
knit in seeming whim
A spiders web, intricate order
cast in gossamer strands
To trap and tremble sweet memories,
the prey this spider hunts
No different are these imag...

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Lost Eternity

Fate comes, though we see it not
Time treads onward, however we dig in our heels
Vigilance toward one threat leads to negligence of another,
and the cruel limits of mortality aren't shy in their reminder
It is this ceaseless grasping at what can only slip through our fingers,
this continued effort at being or creating something which stands outside time that withers our hearts so.
Desire and...

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Platitudes at the Breakfast Table

If I bled out in front of you
would you finally see the goodness in me?
What will it take to resurrect the person I am inside from the hollows of your eyes?
I'm suffocating at the pressure of you obligatory love
confined by propriety and severed from my spirit
Cant you see my fingers turning blue?
Cant you hear my desperate gasps?
These tortured lungs’ salvation lies in one breath of forgiv...

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The City

Slate gray skies, fabricated, contrived
Simple deceits masked by this intricate, recursive cityscape
a stairway without end, doors opening to the yawning abyss whose breath moans ceaselessly over insensate polymer surfaces
life itself is anathema here
indifferent malice lurks in empty hallways, starves, misleads
A perfect antidote to subsistence
an edifice of impotent majesty
spaces challen...

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A seed nurtured, spreading roots in this tainted ground
the only hope for my salvation
In 200 years, I tell myself,
this ancient oak could look back on rough beginnings
and trace each struggle and stubborn victory
in growth ring spirals and gnarled bark
roots reached down, as if to foil fate
and anchored tight against the wind that merely tousles
mighty leaves
or so I tell myself
a sprou...

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Stagnant Flux

It's one in the morning but my mind won't heed the clock
I am paralyzed by thoughts, by a sense of waiting that both exhausts and perversely energizes.
I am spasming, striking between these polar states like an electron through a circuit.
Do I wait for a sign?
For an opportunity or revelation?
And what force is this that stills my lids from succumbing to sleep's gravity?
I hope, and fear in ...

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late night self criticsmusing

Color like blood

Please use this scalpel to bleed the color from my veins
For now I know each measure of beauty comes with equal measure of pain
Oh, how cruel the price we pay, in the ignorant throes of joy
We revel without knowing what soon we will destroy
The world once bright, and hearts delight
Now stings this tearful eye
I never thought that you and me
would have to say goodbye
So as you leave, taking...

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The Path

The hand of fate can touch so coldly on a life.
Pulling one ahead without thought of the heart’s fragility.
And why still does it leave me hopeful, when all I feel is pain.
Is this life’s mystery, or the secret to humanity’s endurance?
To struggle without reason or encouragement
Toward some unknowable paradise we’ll never see?
Or could it be that very despair, so deep and heavy, wherein we f...

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For those I’ve lost, those I’ve left, those I hurt and all those I walked by leaving the potential of future loves forever spinning in the realm of might have been.

How do you measure the value of a life?
Day by day meticulously noting defeats and victories
Tallying the binary source code of your programmed life?
Or is value found in the flavor of the moment?
The act of following an arbitra...

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This misery does not like company
Though I meet it for coffee each morning at 6
It shuns the beseeching touch of others
Though each night we sleep entwined like lovers
        Or vagrants huddling together for warmth
This misery turns all words of praise to spite
Though it hovers by my shoulder all day like a proud parent
      Or a voyeur perversely pleasured by my failures
This misery ha...

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A Thread of Hope

As pain and jealousy give way to wonder and gratitude , I realize the beauty of a love that opens ones eyes to life. The time between the yearned for reunion or unfathomable new beginning, fades like the forgotten darkness that comes in the blink of an eye. Whether a rekindling of old love - renewed by perspective - or the birth of new love - when one gathers the strength to carry the hole in thei...

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Why when I look do I see only the wounds and not the victory they have bought?

Why, when I cast inward, are all that’s cast back the echoes of pain and not the gentle reminder of suffering’s end?

Why can I not express my feelings directly instead of disguising them in tedious metaphor?

What game do I play with myself and why am I surprised that even when I win I lose?

These thoughts be...

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hurtminds eye

A Lying Shroud


Am I mad to miss the pain of your loss?

After initially numb, flattened by the utterly incomprehensible gift of spiritual closure, of forgiveness,

I am now bereft.

Was this bloody burden truly such an integral appendage as to leave me stumbling at the absence of its crushing weight?

I seem to have forgotten the me that lay hidden beneath the shroud of loss. It’s cloying, gropi...

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