Age of Enlightenment
No hand to guide him
through the crisscross steps
up cobblestone stairs
passing the weeds
that grow and grow
on the precipice
in spite of all odds
No voice to call him back
as he ascends. angelic
halo headed youth
at an altitude vast and
the scape below him
appeared as though
it were everything
at once
his path was this
step, miss, step
seen from above
he was a nothing ant
climbing an anthill
to find God
viewing him
through a well placed
magnifying glass
Our ant reached end
last step like a mini-
moon landing to find
the gates of perception
ancient and untouched
spoken into the world
like forbidden fruit
in the garden of innocence
He turned around
head downcast
and contemplated
the comfort
of the cliffs of self doubt.
Maybe not knowing
is better, with a running
start.
(In Progress) Not a title. Literally, in progress.
I fail, like
Antarctic pilgrims before me
(A flag unplanted, blown in intense breeze
sinks into salty sea
claiming a blankness).
As my hands curl into useless
little balls of blackness
and I a husk devoid of warmth.
My remains: a hunched over symbol shape
Fetal and defeated-
Paradoxically unchanged by preservation
and hundreds of years of wait.
There remains no life in these bones,
no story in these lungs.
A funeral of snow, white locusts, descends
to bury the spilt remains of a half
no, whole of life.
Like a Hurricane
You
Always my storm cloud
Waiting for my brightest day
Me
Your’s blissfully unaware
Caught without his jacket
The perfect timing
As you unleash
Everything
I won’t raise my fist
I won’t scream
I won’t shout
You can’t unmake me
You can’t change my path
You can’t.
I learned how to swim
Long ago
Away from you
And everything
You represent
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