Some things are
worse than death,
thoughts of living with
assault always on you,
a film you can’t wash off.
No one can say you wanted
the bear to maul you. And
even when men are posed the question
they want qualifiers first
because they know, they know
the forest keeps its secrets.
the molecules are close enough to convince that you’re here,
an astral being entering within a gust that sweeps aside the tapestry patterned with teal and lavender spheres
Why is it that you like to peer?
Do my insights of fear have an appeal that draw you near?
I don’t empathically feel the emotions in you dear: to me you have none that cross or interfere, unlike the usual your white noise is all I hear
It’s comforting; that detachment in your
austere
if your heart catches fire
and settles into glow,
watch it burn
fan it as needed
(or let it die out)
if it wants to consume you
whatever happens,
you must try to hold it like an ember
which is to say
you must not try to hold it at all.
You think I tell you
Everything.
Every thought and fear
Every breath I save to whisper as you hide.
But I don’t.
I have neither words nor color to shine all my truths for you.
You think you know
Everything.
Every touch and tingle
Every spark I feel from your fingers on my neck.
But you don’t.
Do you feel my heart leap when you chime into my day?
And do you taste the salt on my earlobe catching pillow tears?
Can you know the ache that follows the breadcrumb paths, creeping time moving back to you?
Maybe.
Maybe you do.
because there is still a tether
in each of us,
an umbilical cord,
leading back like
a tunnel of air and light
to all the fission and flares,
that womb of cosmic fire.
I didn’t mean to cause so much trouble
coming into the world; there was already
trouble enough, what with the Arizona
just settling itself into reddened water, and
Anne Frank, there in the dark Amsterdam night,
wearing her yellow star.
It was a hard time, but I came anyway.
To hear my mother tell it, you’d think
the whole bloody war was being waged
right there in her blessed uterus; she always said
I took forever getting here,
and it hurt like hell.
Maybe because I was born in war time,
maybe because I felt bad about causing Mama
all that trouble, I’ve spent a lot of my life
seeking peace, which sometimes meant
making peace, or—the hardest—
keeping peace—and yet
here I am, seeing
all these decades,
all these wars,
wondering sometimes
about intention, about
elusion….
Dearest baby,
I dream of you.
I dream of how you will look
your scent
your eyes.
I yearn for you.
To feel you in my arms
would be the greatest moment
of my existence.
But, dear baby,
you haunt me.
Like a ghost I have never met,
you wander the hallways of my thoughts
lurking around the next corner
watching me so that you can disappear just before we meet.
Oh, my baby.
I want you so badly,
and I am so afraid
that you are never meant to be.
I am afraid that I am a desert,
a wasteland where life never flourishes,
where flora and fauna alike
are dry, cracked, and dessicated–
longing for the drink that I cannot provide.
I do not know you yet, dearest baby,
and I fear I never will
but until my clock chimes midnight
I will long, yearn, and weep,
for there is no one on this earth or in the cosmos
That I want more.
elf wren
hops into my open
door stealing
peanuts I name her
Merlin she makes me
happy
Four hundred thousand children are in line
I don’t want a kid with bad genetics
no one can hear you, world roaring about
cups, shoes, they tape confrontation over
my lips, you hear just whispers of the sand
I was churning. water murky, broken
the system is broken, they just sigh out
accept and find new things to scream about
cups, shoes, lid tight on them, suffocating
they slam their doors, funds are for our wars, so,
open yours, four hundred thousand in line
Common human experience:
(occassionally for the blessed;
frequently for the cursed)
not getting enough of
this or that
which we really need
not enough money: can’t pay the bills; can’t go out
not enough sleep: dulled wit; slow bodily response
not enough food: low energy; pissy mood
we could go on,
but you get the picture
in recent years, it seems,
we have entered
The Subminimal Age
during which we get so much less of
this or that
which we really need
we are left at
less than zero
can you pay all your bills, or
do you never have enough
do you get plenty of sleep, or
are many nights restless, dream-free
do you eat quality food, or
mostly processed crap
(things like hugs–you know–
everyone needs a certain amount
of human touch, but these days
you may not get enough
to even feel you are still human)
if you don’t think
“the struggle is real”
just wait–
The Subminimal Age
is coming for you, too,
and she will take it all
