To-night is dark, so
  step lightly and carry
  a large lamp into
  the howling woods

Wisdom says run, run
  to dark caves and
  harrowing silences
  mirror the bottomless

The abyss, gazing
  headlong into itself,
  recoils in horror,
  shudders dis-eased

And only lamp-light,
  courage flick'ring
  in oppressive depth
  persists, defiant

A stain on un-becoming
  a trampler of stars
  peddler of filth
  who knows all the answers.

'Twas the firm and fervent
    wish of a youth yet
        to flower into a jaded
           blossom, before understanding
        what it meant to love or why
    it was so important to learn
  to do it well,

whose childhood ended rather
      abruptly, watching the slow
        crumble of supposed soul-mates
            as love was not enough
        to overcome the inertia
   of their own.

To get to Anywhen,
be Here
first.

Then,
proceed forward
in any direction
whatsoever.

Mind is a dog
that barks, a dog
with a bone that is
never buried,
and thought like
a dog's instinct without
the anchor of volition.

{i remember}

She comes to presence
in a great wave of grief
that has no bottom.

{water cannot swim}

Feeling the unbearable
weight of womanhood
tearing me open,
revealing my own sorrows.

{a channel of life}*

To be a gate of love and blood,
the flesh of desire,
bearer of all burdens,

was so traumatic I was reborn
in the body of a man.

Leaves skitter as shoed feet
fall silently, wind clinging
at clothes in the death
                  of summer.

     A once-verdant echo
          sighs into place
      clouds weigh heavy
            warmth is savored
                  the grasses die
                       instinct stirs.

The world dies
      to be renewed
            in glorious flame,
      changing to stay
the same.

Home is where the heart
breaks.    (fall into bed)
Familiar smells entrance
and lull, the warm
hearth of embraces
shushes    (a murmuring wellspring)
where spirit fails,
soul and body crumpled up like
scratch paper.

Hemmed in by excess
of Self, persona
blind to its orchestral
shadow,    (wrought by irony)
the mind scribbles
and raves unrepentant.

       (subtlety aches for
       skillful instrumentation
                to give it breath)

Singing the pain
of ages past to mourn
these harrowing visions

Beating on in leaden
veins to the lurch of a pulse
    (the crows take cackling flight)
         time the river pours off

The edge of the map.