Life is an epic,
based on a koan—
we were forced to show up,
we couldn’t go home.

Life is absurd
as the rock rolls back down,
doomed to repeat,
heels dug in the ground.

Let go of the fidelity
that says lose yourself.
No other love can nourish,
you have all the wealth.

Admit
life is absurd, but all is well.
Only then are you able
to break the spell

of consciousness, and return
to the calm ebb and flow,
a soft tide under a half moon—
where we were long ago.

I watch my rock
roll back down the hill.
I threw the seeds.
I tried the pills.

There is nothing more worthy,
there is no other way.
A long life is no different
than life lived in a day

Love is choosing to stand
by him, my restless man
lost to endless haze
with blistered hands,
while I make coffee
and wash my cup
remembering
loyalty not matter what's up-
like golden strings stretched tight to burst, 
I cringe, remembering
I hurt him first
he's on the road
eating gas station food
but tells me he can't
**** on the bus- that's rude.
Each strike of the drum
each chord a sirens call
I recall the melody of shadows
on our bedroom wall.
Like dashes on an empty road
where silence falls and neon glows.
Who are these zombies?
that roar and moan
but I am here do not forget
faithful, true and waiting yet- 
my promise it's still woven tight
That I'll be
waiting up for you each
and every night.

Hold on, sweet souls —
the River will carry you far
beyond the land of men,
over the edge
the deep-running sea
will carry you down
to eternity.

You must go down
to the House of Death,
to stand before Him,
lose your breath.

I swear
by the grimmest oath
I swear it true
a most sacred vow,
I will be carried down with you.

In the silent dark before the dawn
a furious storm
will turn the sky on,
and sheets of rain
will make the River rise.

Yet, here you stand
a phantom in time with the
ghosts of the dead:
young men and young brides
old ones worn ragged

by grief and by age
and tender sweet girls
hearts still in their cage

palms open, surrendered
in the water- not lost

Look at what’s missing

what this flood has cost.

She would have been
101 today.

She
must have
thought about it —
we all do

picturing herself
in a future body —
in a future year.

In 2025, I’ll be 101 —
she must have figured,
along the way,
wondering
where should would be-

or if she would
be gone.

The Big Bang
happened the day
God fell in love
and His chest split open
insides shooting out —

Tumbling viscera
bone, blood
fast-spinning debris
adrift in the dark beginning to
orbit.

And it was next in self immolation
that the universe ignited
when God,
collapsed in on Himself
and became a star.

Oh taco,
you tight-lipped temptress,
soft or hard-
either way, I'm intrigued.
You're the only thing I stare down fully dressed,
I still expect to blow my mind.
You sit there, I spread you open,
hot meat glistening - 
slick, and greedy for attention.
And your smell - 
oh, it hits before I'm even close:
savory, smoky, with a hint of spice
that tickles at the bottom of my spine.
Fat melting into flavor,
lettuce like lace
sour cream dripping where it pleases.
You saucy little thing - 
you don't ask permission,
you demand to be eaten.
Is that cheese or are you just
melting under pressure?
You know exactly
what you do to me taco
as your juice runs down my wrist.
You're my greatest temptation,
tight in all the right places - 
barely holding it together
and proud to spill over
when things get too messy
so I need to use my hands.
I go in - mouth first, eyes closed
you don't judge,
you encourage.
If you could talk you'd say "baby, eat me like you mean it."
Napkins? Please.
If it ain't on my face,
I didn't eat it right.
So here's to you, you delicious, little slit.
part snack, part sin,
you're the three-minute affair
I never feel guilty about.

It started with
a dimming of the light
to slow my breathing.

to stop my thoughts
to barricade
to blame.

To never look myself in the eye
but in the mirror see
an empty body
surrounding me.

To fail in every role of mine
fulfilling my own prophecy.

Then rip out my heart
for the empty heavens
the cruel blue sky,
the mocking clouds.

Finally to poison
shake and starve
Regurgitate shame
from volcanic guts
to porcelain.

Last to fall on
laminate floor
till the little dog wakes
from  the award of dreamless sleep
because one of us is
hungry.