62. Enlightenment

•December 10, 2012 • Leave a Comment

There was terror in his eyes
as he looked into a sort of light
that clouded his vision;
as he looked into a sort of shadow
that illuminated the corners of his mind.
Not the bright sheen of the sun
reflecting on a lake,
nor the dull matte
of a hole full of shadows,
but a type of awareness
that filled him as he looked on,
pouring into his eyes,
flooding his body with a warm chill.

He couldn’t see anymore,
but he knew what was around him.
There were colors,
and there were shades of things
he couldn’t identify;
the reality of this unknowing
drove him to madness.

This insanity became a safehouse:
at least there was no more fear.
But in the back of his mind
the sanity choked and coughed
and spit and clawed and fought
to find its way to freedom.

He closed his eyes,
but the darkened light
and the bright shadow
that is not light or shadow
but something else altogether,
still permeates his vision.
He trembles at this horror,
this inescapable unfamiliarity

Finally he gives in to it,
but the warmth of the thing
gives him hope,
and the chill gives him
a sense of his former reality.
And though he does not understand,
and though he is still fearful,
he is already building a new reality.
He has assimilated this new idea
and become new.


18. Let’s.

•August 8, 2012 • Leave a Comment

Let’s light a fire
grab hold
and run our fingers through our hair.
Let’s swim far out into the ocean
and drown beneath the waves,
Let’s climb
to the top of the highest mountain
just to laugh at the rest of the world.
Let’s walk in the wilderness
and bury ourselves
beneath a mound of leaves and soil.
Let’s lay out under the stars
and dream of seeing them up close.
Let’s fall in love.

61. Monolith

•July 31, 2012 • Leave a Comment

A great giant
looms above the world.
Its footsteps stir the mists
surrounding a mountain;
waves of air crest and recede,
refracting rays of the sun
which flake upon the Earth below:

An Autumn made of light.

22. Remembrance

•July 29, 2012 • Leave a Comment

An old man with a broken smile
sits upon the edges of thought.
He holds in his rough hands
a small memory,
the last thing he dares to keep.
A single tear escapes its prison
as he gazes at this memory,
resting itself upon the corner of his smile,
no longer broken.

He closes his eyes, tightens his grip,
and finally sleeps.

17. One Door Closing

•July 24, 2012 • Leave a Comment

In some other lifetime, perhaps
I could have had more courage
to speak of my feelings to you.
But then,
I wouldn’t have fallen in love
nearly as often as I do now.

60. Icarus

•July 18, 2012 • Leave a Comment

I burn hot and fast
and at the end of my wick
lies a man tired and dreaming,
          sick and dying,
waiting for the warmth to come
take the chill away,
          and maybe stay for a while,
          the scent of smoke lingering
          in his hair and clothes
hoping that it won’t fizzle out.

21. The Poetic Eidolon

•July 18, 2012 • Leave a Comment

The place was made of stone and wood
And as we walked around it,
We heard many voices.
The past has entered the present in this place
And fear has grasped many,
But I know that these ghosts
Are just misunderstood.
Perhaps there is no sentience:
Just a recording that plays itself
Over and over and over.
Maybe it is weak;
Perhaps it is even strong,
But a poet
That takes solace in secrecy,
But desperately wants to be heard
In a twist of irony.
And so it reveals itself
Only to those who would listen.
Maybe there is some of it
In all of us.