it is the realization
it is 'coming to terms with'
but how can I do that
am I supposed to forget the past?
or imagine a future-
but now erase you from it?

I don't like the word: death
the end
distant, ceasing, forgotten
however
I want to give it a new meaning
to help me 'come to terms with'

it is about remembering
your harmonic laugh and contagious smile
your whispered secrets
captured in my ears for eternity
I will treasure them
those are the moments I will
Remember

forget you? - how could I?
I know you're reading this
so please help me by

If everyone were to agree,
the drive for progress would be gone.

Index cards strewn about
the table
in no particular order.
Semi-live, **** shots
of my life.

We wait for signals, hope and pray, but they're everywhere and every way. So maybe we're just used to them and, unaware, we look away.
But pass right by them every day.

When we can have the thrill
The rush
The pull
The push
Who would give in
To the
Happy
Ever
After

Is the body a part of death or death a part of the body?
Or, do death and the body only exist inside our minds?

Are we one part of a whole?
Or, the whole of one part?

Is life meant to be lived or lived to be meant?
Or, do both life and meaning only exist inside our minds?

Is the mind separate from our body or together?
Or, are we altogether bodies which are separate from our minds.

Is it reason which gives us intelligence or intelligence which gives us reason?

Little hands.
Like mother.
And a cheeky smile
Like me.
I'm so proud to be
Your father.
No-one means
So much to me.

It went for my throat but hit me in the chest

this molten lava, broken August
everything once put to rest

was out and up and kicking

there’s nothing to do here but try to be buoyant

I want straight answers

to be clairvoyant
and blanket myself in omnipotent thunder
I don’t want to fear anything


I am certain I would be content
to live a life so morosely stagnant 
that
my muscles calcify and the pressure to become anything else but a fossil disappears

though also, underneath my skin

is the desire to stretch and end and begin
and no season will ever bruise it

and time can never fully dissolve it
and the fear still clings, but I know not to trust it
the lightning strikes, but I too, now emit

the flash
the moon waxes and wanes
and the shadows thrash

but the sky

remains 
malleable