a basis for everything

within this house,
we shut out the light,
the heat
Filled with our old air,
a darkness,
a coolness,
ensconces we inhabitants
the aversion,
ghostly humans
walking past each other
with ne'er a spoken word.
aching bodies and running noses'
the external fairy dust and
flowers
grass
and rich dirt
that toes sink into
like plush carpet, or quick sand
which will not take the ones who lie supine
but the ones who stand,
bipedal,
human,
yes, we'll keep going down,
keep going down.
and the farther we go,
the deeper it gets,
the faster we go,
like water draining out,
or rolling down a hill,
throwing up clouds of petals and of pollen
and insects
until we come to a rest at the base of everything,
a towering pillar of green
that we close out from our lives
with the blinds
turned
shut.

elegy to the spoken and unspoken word

if i do not say what i need to say,
when it need be said
what happens to the words, unspoken,
fallen soldiers, like the dead?

Floating out into some great void,
asking for directions, lost...
will they be of use some day,
or mould like spring in frost?

could it be that they are saved,
for some greater speech to come?-
or could they be unused forever,
the mouth eternal dumb.

And what of the words,
spoken like a fountain,
filling up the days of man,
with shadow like a mountain?

is there a landfill for such abuse,
to recycle it, make it better?
or does it sit like highway trash?-
O, bold, forgotten letter.

misgivings fraught with fear

because you should have this-
this beauty spilling forthing, brimming
drowning out the sorrow\memory is whited water
pushing us down
you don't ever forget this promise
you will never forget (my na)me
it's spilling over like dream turned nightmare
turned fantasy turned drawn reality
like sunlight and freedom
winding over smoothed pebbles
reflecting summers image
the grass let long to grow
the misgivings fraught with fear
abdulations
and you(')r(e) success.

the cherry tree

in the air i see surrounding me
all the lights reflecting
in this spring snow shower
the cherry trees shed the white
fluttering,
fleeting,
flying,
free.
and everything we choose to be
is questioned by the apathy,
the entropy.
i want to say that i am free
i want to be eternity.
the cherry tree,
it will turn green,
sepals, stamens, and carpals
turning red.
the seed
the flesh
the stem
the petioles
the blade
all these parts that make the tree
building up the bluest sky
the whitest petals
force us to see

there are somethings we cannot be

there are some sites we cannot see

and now and again we cannot agree

what it is we will save
or liberate
or designate,
set aside
pretend to be
i can't decide
what I should be
and what is this falling before me?
petals snow salt sugar lies
erasing the ground on which we stand
whiting out the new green land

the cherry petals are raining down
and the light is like blindness
for every solitary thing i see
there is a little more that i am missing.

Whispered words

I could make you believe anything,
take you to the edge of everything,
and bring the world to its collective knees for you,
if only you'd let me,
if only you'd allow yourself the acknowledgement
of forever.

My immortal soul is standing on the crest of the known universe
looking down on these galaxies,
hurtling away from them at unknown velocities,
concentrating on your emancipation,
your heartbreak,
your feint.

Celestial winds whisper words unworthy of the
hand that held the help,
the face that belied the mercy of all of them,
so high above the ground,
"You don't believe in me."

The air was like a cut,
and the sun was just another star,
as time floated away,
and boomeranged back to me
at unprecedented speeds
and the blur
is all I can see anymore.

fix yourself

I am not the one whom you search for
playing silence
wishing for a darker, more conservative appeal
the way everything falls out
I feel
almost as though I cannot be real
because everything that I am given to is but a dream
the dedication and the sweat
and the acrid scent of rain
waiting is a joke
journeys are imagined
trails
winding through your mind
what you are looking for is already there
what I am is a self deficiency
patching up the holes and tears
created by a desperation
if you are looking for it, it is not there,
If it cannot be found,
then what do I care?
I'll spell it out.
only you can find yourself
and only you can see the deficiency
and it's a leak only you can fix
but until then

drip

d
..r
....i
.....p

d
r
i
p
.

Proteins Denatured

Watching proteins denature
Brings on a strange feeling
Of guilt and necessity.
That which was once clear
Is no longer,
What once was fluid
No longer flows.
Sometimes the static fills my head
In the late hours of the night
The words are illuminated
And are almost aflame
And the proteins denatured
Are the fuel to my fire
And my latent, deep-seated ire
Barricades me from sleep.
The stolen lives
That fuel my own:
Have chickens ever been greater than man?
And has one man ever been
Better than another?
What lends to this caste system-
Arbitration or skill?
Some combination thereof
Makes the differentiation
Between the heroes and the fools.
A formula of so many variables;
It’s impossible to tell.
But the denaturation of proteins
Is merely the application of heat:
The slow frying of eggs
Late at night.