Soon I will be gone from here.
And no one will find me.

Maybe forever is just a
Hyperbole.
Used in times
Of despair..
& I’m starting to realize
That even something
As concrete as family
Ebbs with the tide
Until there is nothing more
than traces of blood
And distant memories.

And even they
Who once made
Promises of tomorrow's fertility
Have gone into gallows of darkness.
So why should I stay?
Who is to keep me?
Not promises of infinity.
Not the blood of relatives.
Just me and my
Broken heart.
To roam this earth.
Til death do us part.

3/15/16

In a dream we went to the mountains
It took two hours to get there
and I spent most of it searching for a tree
that looked like home

The sunset was a soft flame
over mountain pastures
and those yellow flowers you love

We sat in the springs
soaking inward, but mostly out
while the cold kissed my shoulders
while I had a dizzy head
and you slowly removed all your clothing
throughout the night

and by the end of it
I was certain we were dreaming
Of slate sand and hot springs
the clear night and it’s star-dappled pines
Tiny bats and bugs on bare skin
but mostly me and my hazy eyes
still searching for home

The big teetotum twirls,
And epochs wax and wane
As chance subsides or swirls;
But of the loss and gain
The sum is always plain.
Read on the mighty pall,
The **** of funeral
That covers praise and blame,
The--isms and the--anities,
Magnificence and shame:--
'O Vanity of Vanities!'

The Fates are subtile girls!
They give us chaff for grain.
And Time, the Thunderer, hurls,
Like bolted death, disdain
At all that heart and brain
Conceive, or great or small,
Upon this earthly ball.
Would you be knight and dame?
Or woo the sweet humanities?
Or illustrate a name?
O Vanity of Vanities!

We sound the sea for pearls,
Or drown them in a drain;
We flute it with the merles,
Or tug and sweat and strain;
We grovel, or we reign;
We saunter, or we brawl;
We answer, or we call;
We search the stars for Fame,
Or sink her subterranities;
The legend's still the same:--
'O Vanity of Vanities!'

Here at the wine one birls,
There some one clanks a chain.
The flag that this man furls
That man to float is fain.
Pleasure gives place to pain:
These in the kennel crawl,
While others take the wall.
She has a glorious aim,
He lives for the inanities.
What comes of every claim?
O Vanity of Vanities!

Alike are clods and earls.
For sot, and seer, and swain,
For emperors and for churls,
For antidote and bane,
There is but one refrain:
But one for king and thrall,
For David and for Saul,
For fleet of foot and lame,
For pieties and profanities,
The picture and the frame:--
'O Vanity of Vanities!'

Life is a smoke that curls--
Curls in a flickering skein,
That winds and whisks and whirls
A figment thin and vain,
Into the vast Inane.
One end for hut and hall!
One end for cell and stall!
Burned in one common flame
Are wisdoms and insanities.
For this alone we came:--
'O Vanity of Vanities!'

Envoy

Prince, pride must have a fall.
What is the worth of all
Your state's supreme urbanities?
Bad at the best's the game.
Well might the Sage exclaim:--
'O Vanity of Vanities!'

there was a
dream here
once,
it came in
        via the
rain,
fed crops,
     livestock, us,
but at dawn it
had gone,
    taken the
bus to
somewhere
it could belong,
somewhere
         made of
sturdier stuff.
I imagine
     it rolling itself
up into
             the dust,
         coating the
backs of tongues,
speaking a
        language so
different to my
own, I imagine
it finally feels
like home.