5 Submissions of My Latest Work

 

 

Life is Always Replaceable

You might have lost something or broke something

You know you can always look for it or fix it or get yourself a new one

That doesn’t crunch her popcorn in bed.

And shoots farther & quicker than you ever thought possible for a bullet from a gun.

You know, what isn’t replaceable or even predictable is this Stream of events pushing past us

Like panicking strangers in a crowd

Or even worse, engulfing us, trampling over us, nearly drowning us,

Pushing us back from whence we came.

Then leaving us choking for breath on the shore.

Being is Becoming Still

Existence is a limitless screen of emptiness,

Ecstatic contemplation

And gratitude for the joy in rolling a boulder blissfully up a steep hill

Tripping over our thoughts like loosened cobblestones,

The truth is a truce we have struck with uncertainty.

After losing the desperate struggle

To cling to some kind of hope buried at the root of our own awareness.

I am fearful of fully failing myself

Although I love myself best when I am alone with eternity.

I am safest and most secure in this clarity I call awareness.

 

Insomniac Awareness

We who are hiding in our second bedrooms,

Licking the silver from the backs of our screens,

Are living in a different time zone

Of Insomniac Awareness.

Sometimes two, sometimes three, sometimes four or more

Lives are lived and lost each night.

In our rooms, by ourselves

Sitting precariously at the edge of our beds.

This is our legacy

The lasting perpetuity of our sensory species:

The glow that contests the light that once shone from our eyes,

Right up to the surface of our understanding.

What is not yet known.

Or what was known and long since forgotten.

Dances across the screen you stare into.

Tripping over your coded memories; in Real Time.

Who are you reading this?

Do you know

What perturbs your sleep-walk into the night?

Or are you merely waiting for the screen to pull you through?

Into your own quiet world,

Where things that count never change.

And no one is dreaming you, but your mother

Who has left you now for another child.

 

The Last Halo of Hope.

Hope is mortal, not eternal.

Though it may feel like eternity

Sitting in a chair by the window.

Gazing up and down the path that leads

Up the hill and down to the canyon on your doorstep.

Every morning, every evening, every day.

Awaiting an answer to your prayer for your hope to be restored.

Resilience rewarded

Patience still burning brightly

Under your old photograph on the wall where you live now.

I’m not sad.

No, sadness is just a passing rain to irrigate the eyes.

Instead, I’m a new planet

Ringed by the last halo of hope

Wrapped tightly around my head.

 

Pebbles

Thoughts are merely pebbles

Being gently washed by a passing stream.

You are the stream.

Thoughts are merely pebbles on a beach

Being gently rounded by crashing waves.

You are the waves.

Thoughts are merely pebbles in the sand.

Being gently worn away by the passing wind.

You are the wind

My words escape on.

Words are merely thoughts

Being gently read by a passing eye.

Yours are the eyes

That can read my thoughts.