small confession

I am ashamed
that I preferred you
when you were
still searching,
wavering, wondering
and becoming
rather than now
that you are
decided, defined, done
and moving on


why I’d rather not know

maybe we abided  miscommunication
because asking
would mean knowing
and knowing would mean
having no more need
for communication
and then a silence like
this would reign


when I saw you
words bubbled
to the surface
reflecting universes
of all that never was
and would never be


so much is lost
to wrong time and place
too soon
too late
and parallels
that can never touch
of proximity
or mutual

the good li(f)e

Every time I look at you
I’m reminded of how I pay
for having taken the lifeline you threw me
when I was sinking in the mud
How you pulled me onto the shore
gasping for any kindness
How you saw in me the drive to survive and conjure temples from rubbish
How you tethered me with comforts
and loaded me with purpose
long enough so I wouldn’t perceive
that the shore was on an island
I’d never find the strength nor will enough to leave

But most of all I am reminded
how I long for the mud again

root mother unearthed

Mother of mothers
with generations
nestled in the crooks and folds
of arms, skin,
swinging from gnarled joints
shaping wisdom with your hands smelling of soil
An unbreakable force of time and ages
Etched into your stern face

But I know how that face
longed to smile in wonder
I know why you doted on that doctor
There was nothing licentious in your attention
His knowledge unearthed a cavern where there was room
To hear yourself speak as someone other than that myth
To be proud of something other than the accomplishments of those you bore
To laugh, dance
and shout your name
The one they discarded
when you were grafted to the family tree
To carve their history into your skin


Now that our days of inspiration
have been quartered
into unrealistic pipe-dreams
feeding repackaged innovations
their intent subtracted
from the bottom line
and our creations
turned into investments
we watch grow
We now can laud
our experience and hindsight
leaving us nothing but
to contrive models
and devise systems
to explain and predict
the paths of even the freest radicals
and the capital to construct machinations
to harness their energy
to warm the comfortable cages
we build to live out the rest
of our pointless days

daily post: age

just once

you said what we say
when something’s too good
or simply too hard to resist-
life is too short
not to bend this one time
and enjoy what it has to give

I wanted to say
but bit my tongue
what I also knew to be true
that life after this
would be too long and wasted
spent wanting far more of you


I can threaten you and hurt you
break apart all your frames
make you ask for forgiveness
as you run and hide in shame
But I cannot make you care

I can stand up to abuse
fight off adversity
turn labels into crowns
And dance at their absurdity

But am beaten by absence
starved through neglect
and faced against indifference
I’m as good as dead

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