Mar 2013
the things i feel & mostly what i think
about every face i see when walking home
at 5 am, at 5 pm, when the sun is grudgingly
coming to terms with the night,
they are ephemeral & strong
entering like belligerent intruders,
& even if i always leave my door open
words & images filter in through the window
the cracks in the cement speak to
the cracks of my mind & the sound of a man
yelling at someone else on the phone far away
brings the sound of trumpets to my mind
i have no way of conveying this to you
or to anyone i may exchange words with.
words, in any tongue, offer no justice
to the things of this life & my perceptions
for i am made up of a thousand different things
endless comings & goings of happenings
& circumstance. the memories alone could fill
volumes, but it is not of any significance
like i had once, rather naively, dreamt.
this life, marked by a series of omens is
mine & mine alone to *****
i hold the present loosely in my palm
in the faces of others, that fade in & out
i see myself & every other man who has
walked this earth alone & in the company
of other strangers. they reappear untouched
by the passage of time. just as my being
seems to go on regardless of the slow rot
that is this lonely communal life.
at first, i kept my distance, for fear that
you might burn down this secret garden
of myself, timidly opened up to a slash & burn
of the field where others had all planted seeds
& where many things had lived & died before
then when i thought i knew you, i hoped that
you could get wild flowers growing along
the endless edges of my blooming mind
as with all things, the signs & symbols
spoke to me in an incomprehensible poetry
& it’s only just now that i come to realize
your incompetence is not yours alone
but that of us all, who understand
that to be alive is to inhale the sharp beauty
that wears the clothes of stimulation & death.
these human ashes will feed the greenery to come
i nod my head & acknowledge that this is what
it is & what it shall always be, release my grip
& shall merely go along for the ride
about every face i see when walking home
at 5 am, at 5 pm, when the sun is grudgingly
coming to terms with the night,
they are ephemeral & strong
entering like belligerent intruders,
& even if i always leave my door open
words & images filter in through the window
the cracks in the cement speak to
the cracks of my mind & the sound of a man
yelling at someone else on the phone far away
brings the sound of trumpets to my mind
i have no way of conveying this to you
or to anyone i may exchange words with.
words, in any tongue, offer no justice
to the things of this life & my perceptions
for i am made up of a thousand different things
endless comings & goings of happenings
& circumstance. the memories alone could fill
volumes, but it is not of any significance
like i had once, rather naively, dreamt.
this life, marked by a series of omens is
mine & mine alone to *****
i hold the present loosely in my palm
in the faces of others, that fade in & out
i see myself & every other man who has
walked this earth alone & in the company
of other strangers. they reappear untouched
by the passage of time. just as my being
seems to go on regardless of the slow rot
that is this lonely communal life.
at first, i kept my distance, for fear that
you might burn down this secret garden
of myself, timidly opened up to a slash & burn
of the field where others had all planted seeds
& where many things had lived & died before
then when i thought i knew you, i hoped that
you could get wild flowers growing along
the endless edges of my blooming mind
as with all things, the signs & symbols
spoke to me in an incomprehensible poetry
& it’s only just now that i come to realize
your incompetence is not yours alone
but that of us all, who understand
that to be alive is to inhale the sharp beauty
that wears the clothes of stimulation & death.
these human ashes will feed the greenery to come
i nod my head & acknowledge that this is what
it is & what it shall always be, release my grip
& shall merely go along for the ride
