I have the soul
Of a bitter old woman
Spending her days on her
Front porch in a rocking chair
Cursing the sun for shining
Cursing the flowers for blooming
Cursing the children for being young
Cursing the lovers for being happy
Cursing the grass for growing
Cursing the cold cup of tea
In her cold, bony hand
Cursing herself for
Being so old
And bitter.

I. the apparition

i don't fear death,
i fear never being born;
i fear not my last breath,
but all the breaths in between;
how do i know i'm alive?

II. the left foot

for what purpose is the sun without its light?
for what use are eyes without their sight?
for what good is a left foot without the right?
and for what joy is a string without its kite?
will i ever be complete?

III. father

as branches grow to the shape of their roots,
as vermillion bloodies every spring with a drop:
could i escape original sin?
could i become a better man--
could i become my own man?

IV. aneurysm

would lightning dare blaze up a tree
that has yet to bear fruit?
would the gods dare strike down an artist
with a painting unfinished?
fate is neither cruel nor fair.

it's easy
to let your blood drip
to let your tears flow
to let yourself fall
for it feels freely natural
when you exert no force
and yet you end up hurt
because that's how
it always ends up anyway

Why do i always do this,
i always seem to be that one,
who try a little too hard,
for people who would only put half the effort in.

like a fish out of water
walking backwards upstream
grand illusion of compliance
buying nothing sight unseen

respecting their essence
detached from their path
connected in spirit
repelled by all wrath

norms without ethics
morality sans love
passion ever searching
a need to rise above

heart sinking hatred
mind numbing neglect
mountain moving greed
rarely circumspect

not infrequently i ponder
how my being was unfurled
wondering deeply in my soul
if i belong to another world

Oh decisions decisions,
What challenges you are,
The clock is ticking,
Yet my thoughts don’t get far.

That could be this and,
This could be that.
Each choice is a risk,
So I might as well pick out of a hat.

The intensity rises,
As my body begins to perspire;
Legs trembling, hands shaking,
Each choice takes thought, must it require?

Finally conclusions are drawn,
As the brain halts the tearing.
I can now calm to a relief; because
Now I know the shirt I'll be wearing.