Declare pragmatism a vulgarity,
a taste fowl to the tongue.
Embrace the long way home as
an integral part of healing
and swear by the virtue of art.

Decide that you will not be swayed
by flashing lights, airbrushed make-up,
or impressive displays of feathers.
Seek only the flower unseen
in a globe armored to the teeth.

Flea the baroque temptation,
extravagance will not suit you.
Confess to the heavens
your deepest desires
and find them in your own backyard.

Accept helplessness as a gift.
Stop wringing your hands,
for they will not wind the clock
in either direction you mistakenly feel
would be to your benefit.

Savor the precious little
any one thing can give you.
Scrape from each moment
all that is beautiful and velvet
and forget there is anything else.

And then one day you wake up
You yawn, stretch and look around.
Everything is in its place
everything is exactly where it should be
but something is wrong.
something is missing
What could it possibly be? you wonder.
And then you realize.
its gone.
the little hope you had left
the denial
the sadness the anger
the
happiness
     the grief
     the drive.  
All Gone.
Darling
the essence dies
long before the body

The sand is drenched with misty water
Falling from the sky.
My shovel cradles the clustered grains until
They are ready to be deposited
Into the security of a plastic bucket.
Once it is filled,
The infamous flip happens.

Then I am bound to lift the bucket
And embrace whatever I find underneath.
I squint, only wanting to half-look
At the potential abomination.
But I find myself pleasantly surprised;
Shivering
From the cold droplets condensing on my skin,
But grateful.