I woke this morning
Wrapped in Luck
Discovered in the bathroom mirror
My bedhead looked fabulous
Better than my actual haircut
Like finding a $50 bill on the sidewalk
Like getting a fortune cookie
That speaks your name
And says,
"Today is going to be a Good Day."

The Romantic becomes The Cynic
His Heart becomes The Stone
The Poisonous Fruit
At the Tree of Life's Roots
Chills him to the Bone

The Fool no longer Dances
Seeks no Joy from those he Loved
Their Smiles seem Dour
His Mood gone Sour
He's lost his Light Above

And the ***** Fires sputter
The Flesh turns Soft and Gray
What once was All
Helped bring The Fall
Nothing Rose can Stay

Then Passions aged to Bitters
For Reality means only Tears
The joys of Youth
Mean acrid Truths
At the End of all our Years

But who are We to Argue
And Death comes for Us All
Will you Cry at Night
Or Will you Fight
To find Your Light in Time's Black Pall

What am I feeling?
So many things.
How do I pick the one
that is worthy?
How do I decide
which flitter of chemical cascade
to capture
and pin down
and immortalize
on this page?

They are all so ugly
and so beautiful,
each in their own unique way.
Which is wheat?
And which the chaff?

It would seem that
"Ambivalent" and
"Introspective" and
"Pretentious" and
"Self-centered" have
risen to the top today.
In trying to decide
how to define myself
I have defined myself
without choosing.

This is who I have become,
but not
who I choose to be.

spiderweb cracks
of bare black branch
against slab of slate gray sky

blue sun glow
blurry and lost
shrouds the world with ice

bite of cold
winter wind cuts
through flesh naked and scarred

bone white flecks
of fractals fall
to dust the red and raw

crystal'd waters
with gentlest touch
melt into seeping wounds

frost fingers roam
through veins gone cold
seeking the vaults of doom

old heart in hand
black carbon char
powdered ash blown high and free

corpse crow caw
shattering shriek
endless echoes mocking me

night at noon
and no one saw
there's nothing left to be

Orange yellow tounges climb licking
tinder dried limbs wood eating
pine bough'd circle yearned-for grasping
explode in blazing new Sun crackling

White wisp'd winter ghosts rise gently
carried north on cold winds darkly
sacrificed spirits pyre'd burn brightly
light for a New Year to shine sublimely

Red runes round ring enchanted
holy words spoke oft-repeated
flowed wine o'er horn filled sacred
Gods' graced gifts for wishes granted

Without motion
there is no Heat
In our sudden stillness
we are freezing to death
But our fire scorched
and consumed
so what choice
did we have?

There is no heat
without Motion
But we only ever went around
in circles
It was inevitable
and obvious
that someday the fuel
would run out

Fire without fuel
Cold ash of promises lost
Deep winter of resentment blows
Howls echoing through our empty chests
Where blood once pumped rhythmic hot
Now silent ice blue

Every Push needs a Pull
Every Give a Take
The dance from White
to Black
to White again
is all we are
a trillion trillion trillion times over
All Creation writ large in infinite complexity
so who are We to pretend to argue
with Nature's Orders?

I am No One
I sit in silent stillness
numbed now in the Cold
I only ever wanted One Thing
And I nearly burned the whole world to get it
Before I realized the obvious truth
that all my actions
my motions
my Heat
had only pushed it further and farther from my reach

So now I am No One
Sitting in silent stillness
comforted in the Cold
knowing that there is nothing I can do
That if I am ever going to have the world I want
it is out of my hands
it is beyond my Will
and all I can do is simply wait
in the Cold
for Her
to come to me



And Hope
it wasn't only my Heat
that drew Her here