the morning cries of birds awakening
where they stood nothing to say all the dark hours
say we crossed the midnight sea cowering in ink wells
rejoicing bravely on the red sands a danger passed
a peril unseen as birds in dead of night
I did not leave you or cover from the moon
or keep my words and all that I am in dead black
all that I am rattling in a cage straining against bars
I gave you in the darkest hour
not the world singing when it needs no song
not the world when it sees taking flight
but when you trembled I whispered in your ear
stay with me
we are our wings
or did you not hear and did another voice
teach fear by night and rancor all the day
call you out with morning birds to play
when I found the tender passion of unsafe hours
abandoned where you left it in a sunbeam on the floor

The stab of pain, all shock and neon lights,
then the bright bone white blinding center of it.
Drowning out thought and time.
This skip of heart beat and ripple of adrenaline,
is over in a matter of seconds,
and still the breath catches in the lungs, jaws clench, the muscles tense in anticipation of
another wave of arching agony.  
As the electrical storm goes quiet for a moment, the relief is like a cool  shot of morphine.
The ecstasy of being without it, though it is fleeting, is the reminder of life, of life force.  
And then, a fog of amnesia.
The dull throbbing sets in again, to give way to another spasm, a vice grip at my temples.
When this night, and this episode come to a close, I will forget how truly alive I felt in this moment of white hot misery.

There is nothing in the intricate design of the eye that tells us how we are able not only to see the world, but to look back upon it.
Is there a magical element yet unknown, somewhere deep in the vitreous humor, or hidden within the optic nerve that burns with the purpose to seek out beauty in the world?
To capture it in our gaze, to own it for a rich moment or two.
Is there some electrical impulse within this blinking vessel
that projects our delight upon the object of our affection?
We know we love, and yet how can this be so? It does not exist anywhere in our anatomy.
We know that we would risk everything for that enduring answer, seen radiating from another's eyes,
and yet, how can we grasp it and hold it tight, this invisible thread?

Where, in the gray matter and electrical streams and storms of our mind, lies our imagination?
A game of telephone from neuron to neuron sends the fleeting thought
that behind our closet door there may be another world,
where a nautilus is king, and great whales swim the cosmos, feeding on the tails of comets.
But only for a moment do we think, perhaps it is so.
Until we open the solid door, and what we believe,
because we must,
shows us the simple fact of a tidy linen closet.
We believe it, because we must.
For there is nothing in our marvelous jellyfish of a brain that tells us that the world can be
anything
and everything
we want it to be.  
And with that, the World, and all the other worlds
here, there, and in between,
smile at us,
the fleeting shimmer of light in an endless sea.

They have watered the street,
It shines in the glare of lamps,
Cold, white lamps,
And lies
Like a slow-moving river,
Barred with silver and black.
Cabs go down it,
One,
And then another,
Between them I hear the shuffling of feet.
Tramps doze on the window-ledges,
Night-walkers pass along the sidewalks.
The city is squalid and sinister,
With the silver-barred street in the midst,
Slow-moving,
A river leading nowhere.

Opposite my window,
The moon cuts,
Clear and round,
Through the plum-coloured night.
She cannot light the city:
It is too bright.
It has white lamps,
And glitters coldly.

I stand in the window and watch the
moon.
She is thin and lustreless,
But I love her.
I know the moon,
And this is an alien city.

coupon for Granny's Original 32% All Natural Oatmeal®
cart-to-cart down aisle 48 and this man's an affront to khakis
and this woman's brain runs off a child's complaints
BLIZZARD 2013
according to the radar, buy 80 pounds of rock salt
from The Home Depot®, more saving. more doing.™
more rock salt. more doing
BLIZZARD 2013
according to the radar, buy two-weeks-worth of tuna,
a pallet of Pepsi Max®, and four loaves of Baker Good's NeverMold Bread®
all for $21.99 with your Sam's Club® Rewards Card
BLIZZARD 2013
cart-to-cart down aisle 62 where once there was soda, now an I.O.U.
and I read on the internet that the preservatives in diet cola will keep
my body from decomposing and I read on the internet that these
dented, discount tuna cans will give me botulism
BLIZZARD 2013
one jug of water from a spring in Mountain View, Arkansas
one jug of water from a spring in New Iberia, Louisiana
picking between Miley Cyrus and Hannah Montana
the pitter-patter on the warehouse roof reassures
time for eenie meenie miney mo
BLIZZARD 2013
and the intercom desperate for a cart wrangler
customer service now open for checkout
don't leave your toddlers alone in shopping carts
they're choking on free samples
with an echo, raindrops strike parking lot pools
just past the intersection an ambulance grumbles
BLIZZARD 2013
in a room with a view wishing the windowpane weatherized
beers bought by volume, candles forgotten, six months of
licorice, EverFluff® popcorn, and hand warmers of chemical kind
remembered
BLIZZARD 2013
will not be landing in the city, watch out for that rain though
if the temperatures drop below 32 degrees it could ice over
and if the temperatures don't, well, it won't

News 7's coverage of Blizzard 2013 brought to you by
The Home Depot®, more saving. More doing.™
and Sam's Club®, savings made simple.™