Today shrugged
in total acceptance
for the arising,
never ending process
of confusion
and bewilderment
and awe.
Leaves tossed
their bright orange bodies
over the blacktop,
and warm, blue sky,
as I took a sip of tea
warming my chest to the idea
of openness;
to the prospect
of a present that is
entirely out of my control.

Today I rose from bed and
looked out of my ***** window and
saw a tiny slice of the moon,
drifting towards the horizon as the sun,
as if stretching its tired arms, opened its
eyes to the achy, cold trees, and weary
night-folk. And quietly, peacefully, I
entered the day with the same brightness
I had seen in the sky from my window,
as I filled my cup with tea.
Minutes passed like grains of dirt on the ground
as I flew over them on two rubber wheels,
accomplishment was taken as it came, one pebble
at a time.
And today, for once, when I saw the smile
on that beautiful face and my heart filled,
I held the joy I despised so much
in acceptance and joy for the moment,
instead of crushing it.
One day, the dreams I conjure in the
light of noon will be reality,
memories to be forgotten
because they haven't the opportunity
to exist yet.

Today, I am a cyborg attached
to a computer by a thick cord
that comes out of my wrist.
I can feel the metal in my arm,
the little divots
that allow it to bend freely
as I twist and move. Inside the cord,
wires spiral into me, around my spine
and into my stomach.
I feel like a rebellious zombie, in
the way I smile whole-heartedly
at the kids in the stroller, and the old lady
reaching for two pennies in her purse.
Soup, they all seem to be making,
but I’m just standing here
punching in numbers and
asking the same questions, wondering
whether the universe needs the receipt
or if I should recycle it.

Poetry appears as thin threads of smoke
off the tip of a candle's burnt wik, as
hot wax sticks to the hairs on
the back of my hand while the blood
of my pen is drawn across the page and
my irritation is hidden
behind a screen of fog; rain pounds,
trying to break down these walls
and today,
I grab a lock of hair and pull
but I don't wince,
my mind has dissolved into absence for
a moment and though I smile,
the smoke in my eyes
makes it impossible to hear.

Today, as the crickets moan,
I recant a song built from soft
white, drift-wood and clean,
polished steel.
I dance down the broken street
while black
bird-silhouettes
screen-print the magenta-blue sky
like spray-paint cans full of
energy and power strength that
my little fingers envy from a distance,
but for a moment my toes
bounce with the pebbles to the beat;
a pleasure from letting go
for a moment.
Drunk on the dance floor, the release
is effortless, but it ends like the sun
popping below the horizon,
until tomorrow comes,
all the while asking
how do I know
this is the same sun.

Today, missiles and bombs fall
before my closed
eyes, exploding into stories of
politics and economics,
corruption and destruction, and
the ringing in my ears
doesn't go away
after I open my eyes
to the morning sun.
I sit on the floor;
my face soaking up the bright
blue light and I think about
beauty because
why not.
Today, as my sweat drips
down my rough, porous nose,
and touching my
chapped lips,
it tastes like surrender; like,
relinquishing myself
to the "okayness" of life,
and remembering
that it is.

Today sat,
perched lazily on the warm
electrical wire, filling the body with heat like
warm soup on a cold,
blustery day. The sparrows
ate pebbles on the driveway as
I sat parked for
a moment,
staring off at the rolling clouds.
I walked down
the broken concrete path and
looked up to see three sparrows looking down
investigatively.
And today, I enjoyed the cold air,
as my nose dripped
and my ribs shook,
because I loved the way the sun
never stayed in one place,
and the way beginnings
followed endings.