She was spinning,
the world flowing around her.
She was her own axis,
everything revolved around her body and mind.
Who knew that one person would make it all stop?
Who knew that one boy could change the orbiting?
Surely, the girl didn’t.
He came from nowhere,
but from everywhere at the same time.
He knew nothing
but everything all at once.
He smiled at her,
but was stern with her.
He loved her,
but he was infuriated with her.
This boy changed her world,
and she changed his.

He was watching,
the world a film before his eyes.
He was the audience,
watching everything play before him without interaction.
Who knew that one person would pull him in?
Who knew that one girl could change the characters?
Surely, the boy didn’t.
She came from the top,
and he from the bottom.
She was shallow,
and he was in so deep.
She scowled at him,
and he could only smile at her.
She despised him,
but he loved her.
This girl changed his world,
and he changed hers.

They were dancing,
The world in their hands.
They were the leaders,
Controlling their fates with a small gesture.
Who knew two people had that effect?
Who knew that two people could bring such change?
Surely, they didn’t.
They controlled the world,
Without knowing it.
With a smile,
The sun came over the horizon.
With the tears,
The rain drenched the world.
With a kiss,
The people fell in love.
With a fight,
The people created chaos.
They changed the world,
And the world changed them.

Light-hearted?
     difficult.
Gloomy-eyed
     more typical.
Strangled by the umbilical,
struggling to be original.

Is this what you wanted,
my parents
(who raised me well)?
To think what others have already thought,
to follow and not dwell?

Is this the life you wished for me,
my teachers
(who taught me well)?
To believe the precious theories wrought
by fat scholars, paid well?

Light-hearted?
     difficult.
Gloomy-eyed
     more typical.
Struggling against the umbilical,
blind to the original.

Is this what you would have me believe;
that I
am just another?
To work, get paid and raise my kids
in a world that can only smother?

Light-hearted?
     impossible.
Gloomy-eyed
     most probable.
Strangled by the umbilical,
struggling to be original.

There were disappointed faces
on the students in the quad
The professor’s classes cancelled-
illness  had struck their mortal god.
A literary lion, A scholar
world renowned.
Pneumonia, favoring old men,
was the disease that took him down.
The Professor got the best of care
and had a private room.
His favorites brought him roses
to brighten up the gloom.
He was in an out of consciousness,
oblivious to fading blooms.

His true friends
were dead poets
and he imagined them about:
Blake, with his wild head of hair;
Bill Shakespeare’s pate without,
Byron, dripping from the Hellespont,
and Dylan Thomas chugging  stout.
His breath was shallow, rasping
His heart would skip a beat
His mind would wander mercifully
back to when the past  was sweet.
He recalled playing the Wolf
with a beauty named Naomi.
Had she ever thought him handsome?
Had he come across as phony?
The monitor went flat line then
They would save him, never fear.
Naomi's accusations were still
ringing in his ears.

"Death interrupts life;
it calls on everyone of us",
Unexpected yet long awaited.
Don't they say?It's not the destination
but the journey on which you go.
That would make us all,
but travelers
wandering a lonesome road.
Is it lonesome?
And what is lonely?
Have I never felt these thing
if I have friends,
people.
And yet I am, ultimately.
For, when you go, you go on your own.
Or arrive
       -whichever it may be...

qui tollis peccata mundi, dona eis requiem*


Bejesus we walked so far!
It was beautiful country, mind,
feet dappling through hedgerows
that led from the city, in silence,
to rest where all flesh shall come.

I remember how it started,
walled in with the others.
Lord you could dance!
How were they to comprehend
that the kink in my arm
and your off-beat jive
could lead us unguided
to narrow pathways forcing single file?

                    By a river we sat together—
amid long words and fingerprints
your skin bled dark with guilt
and for my part I saw coracles
sprout upon your breath.
We weighed down these little craft
with the chains of our sins
and tied fast the bones of our future
as payment for the ferryman.

One day perhaps, the river will dissolve to ash,
revealing our two disciples
discarded as the chance to heal,
                    there will be love
                    like a great and gentle pulse
mingling with cold stones
and memories our
downcast eyes, cheekbones to the fore.

fear of going under
fear of giving in
fear of losing myself
fear of loss over win

fear of falling in love
fear of letting you in
fear of giving my all to you
fear of loving him