Monday, February 16, 2009

the saddest thing

this crushed molten sand image
reflecting back at me
all that i am
each imperfection
highlighted in flourescent reality
clear now to me
like never before
the opening of these eyes to finally see
making all the difference

the stark inescapable self
realized in shadowed brilliance
every hard edge revealed as truth
the softening of these lines betrayed
by time and illusion
leaving nothing to run to or from
the truth displayed undistorted
for the first time in tears and sadness
by my own vision

Monday, February 9, 2009

i bought you flowers once*

that day in the rain
on the Spanish Steps
as i sipped my dark coffee
i remembered you
walking hand in hand
through the open market
ancient on cobblestones
black-cold and dirty
with the tales of so many
who walked before us

purple-bound in tulle
blue and yellow poppies i believe
stamens full of gold
swayed just enough to catch my eye
as you too once did
before your "i do" became "i don't"
and the nimbostratus covered us in gray
like the dust which accumulates
in clusters on this weathered floor
among the dried petals lying there

* for you

Sunday, February 8, 2009


darken me in phases
past the new and the full
this halo shines
smearing the blackness
in obscure patterns
momentarily blinding
to these eyes which dared to look
hoping for something to see
and call my own
before your movement passes
leaving me shadows
as my only reminder
of you

Saturday, February 7, 2009

the tear of the Human Condition

ten-fold it comes back to you
like a child to the home
once made so accommodating
now the bitter rise of its steps
leading nowhere
as the cinder and ash
crumble under
the pressing wait of the inevitable

what we become
no different than the rest
despite the years of practice
without deviation from the norm
in hope of self-preservation
to grace our every move
in this process we propose
as our everyday

ten-fold it comes back to you
the tear of the Human Condition
pulling us under
in its wake of normalcy
us clinging to the sides
of the vessel we mold
to hold us intact
in our porous demise

Friday, February 6, 2009


the smear of you
explained to me
in clinical accuracy
beyond my need to know
regardless of my inquiry
to the contrary

i'm susceptable to you
before i ever knew
the nature of your resistance
just another pathogen
for me to prevail
or suffer

prescribe me for you
to no avail
i am not your cure
but your keeper
meant to hold you still
sustained in me

i pin you down
in this organism-specific embrace
the incorrect companion
you recognised me
as you saw from the beginning
the smear of you

Wednesday, February 4, 2009


this pavement that i walk
hides nothing
from these down-turned eyes
each aggregate crack
and bifurcated splinter
from these cedar expansions
sunk deep within
this soul-splitting gait

in lost direction and perception
of the road i walk
and the road i chose
wrecking me
with each successive tread
of every step i take
bloodied and purpose-free
leading me back to you