Religion

I wake up
I piss and shower
and dress
I let the dogs out
I pack a lunch
and I eat
I drive
I check the blind spot
in traffic and
pull a muscle
I work and play
and try not to mix
the two, unsuccessfully
I clean and 
pull a muscle
I turn on the TV
I watch and learn
what life is not
I stand up
and pull a muscle
I eat and eat
and eat, probably some more
I write what won't
be read
I then paint instead
I cook, then clean
some more
and pull a muscle
I put my barefoot
on the bare ground
I complain about hating
I love to complain
and I live to love
I lay down with
my husband
We pray then kiss
I pet our dogs
I watch TV
knowing what life is not
I fall asleep, eventually

Face space

faces spilled out
on counter tops
from glasses too
full of liquids
or clumsy hands
faces pool in
the liquid lineage
held by distance
on that expanse
they unfurl in
wrinkled napkins
or paper towels
gazing upon the
world before them
this recognition
in an unrealized
divination

The fluff dreams are made of

my dreams choose
caskets as places
to lay their heads
and slumber soundly
leaving me in the night
I wonder what they
are dreaming of
when they've left me
out in the cold night
do they take flight
as I enjoy so much to do
deep in REM
do they fall off
giant cliffs only
to be suddenly shaken
awake with racing hearts
do they try to run
only to find the more
they try the less they can
or maybe they don't at all
dream that is
when they slumber
leaving me in the night
to row my boat
down a stream
as we were taught
for life is but a dream

The thin line

we'll climb
the thin line
of smoke
that rises
from out
of the waves
it will lead
us into the
starry dark
where distance
has forgotten
both speed
and distance
so we can
peer into
the past

we'll climb
the thin line
of smoke
that rises
from out
of the waters
which have
given us this
chance to find
ourselves and
each other
when we
have collided
with the matter
in hands
that have held us
beaten us
and led us
to ourselves and
each other

we'll climb
the thin line
of smoke
that rises
from our
burning bodies
the fires
that have
quenched
the ocean's
salty thirst
our blood
that has
dowsed the
warring flames
within stampeding
hearts and souls

Magissa

she walks columned lands
listening to the brittle fingers
of her friends snap and break
under the weight of her feet

the cold touches not her skin
as it has already embraced
the faint beating of her heart

her hair is a continuous current
with the bitter breezes of night
when she lifts from the earth
to soar through the dark air

the cold touches not her face
as it has already taken hold of
the faint memories of her mind

they come to her for help
when their prayers are empty
they bar her with iron chains
when their guilt is thirsty

the flame touches not her bones
as she is a stream in the woods
the tears from an infant's eye



- for Dixie

The chest

these things were taken
by unseen hands
they always mention
what was given up
an offering
the sacrifice
but these things
were taken
and they'll never
be again
the memory of
sound sleeping
and sane thinking
and being pleased
by being at ease
no more
someone has
slammed shut
that door
as all reasoning
has flowed away
all peace sits in rot
logic in ruin and decay
images can't be unseen
knowledge is always known
and what is kept locked
in the chest in the room
at the end of the hall
up the stairs of the house
at the end of the road
no one travels any longer
should have always
stayed locked in the chest
in the room in the house
at the end of the road
no one travels any longer

Silent friend

silence was a
companion he sought
and the constant
conversation he found
in the quiet pacified
the biting storm
that raged in his mind
he hated his voice
finding the words
he found regretful
at best and his speech
was a journey down
a root laced pebble
strewn crooked path

the winged imp on
his left shoulder
whispered into
people's ears
convincing them
he held himself
higher than them
in his silent state
while the feathered
fiend on his right
whispered into
his own ear
convincing him
he had nothing
worth to say

but he soon
started speaking
more and more to
his silent friend
and did his very
own convincing
leaving the two
whispering devils
to starve without him
while he drifted
away so deathly quiet

First frost

the bricks still emit
the scorch of summer sun
in their burnt hue
embers of bonfires
the same that still
burn in the night sky
licking and savoring the dark
the same dark
that creeps into these hours
when solar rays drown
in the distant earthly horizon
surrendering to the cold
the same cold
that creeps into the bones
of withered elder trees
and silken youthful blooms
that linger until the bitter kiss
the same kiss
that stills the pulse
silents the arias in the air
and blackens and grays
these autumn days

Demon wings

the remains of the rain
reflect the somber eve
after a day of gray
my face ebbs in ripples
as filtered light ponders
the expression on my face
I am only halfway here
I am merely halfway there
as liquid draws the line
and darkness draws the soul
I've hungered for the light
to lead me off into the night
but it keeps me lingering
in the shallow dull twilight
the dark can take my soul
into the depths of its cave
but it feeds me just enough
to save me from the grave
the puddles mimic pain
a numbing bitter pill
the loss of demon wings
no halo beyond the veil

Return ticket

it was something booked
long ago
probably with the first breath
in his lungs
which is why it's difficult now
to let go
because it was forgotten about
after all this time
but reminders come back up
to flag us down
and let us know when
it's time to let go
when breaths become less
and hearts grow too big
and bones are too full of life
and looks are now somber
when they weren't
only a week or two ago
during that time
when we had forgotten
when we didn't know
that life is booked with
a return ticket
and departure can be
so much sooner
than we know