There was a forest who gave itself to the sea
and now sits, sand sunk toes,
gasping for every bitter ounce
the ocean will give.

Death row of erosion,
propitiation for meeting
-unbeknownst to the water.
At least salt crusted left overs
have a certain painful taste
unexperienced by those
who kept their roots where intended.

blue is such an evasive color,
like when water looks as blue as life,
and the sky is a depthless sheet
but when you cup some water,
or fly in a plane
it's not blue you can hold.

maybe too, God is this way.
sure, in the “he is always there”
“he is everywhere”
but I mean in the full experience
until our senses fail us.

so why do we not grumble about not holding the sky?
and trust that the water in our hands
is the same as from the lake?
I guess because the work of God
feels more threatening.
but maybe like God,
we enjoy the blue of a lake more in stillness,
than trying to take some for ourselves.

life is hard
when i reach myself
out of the dimension
i’m here to be in

to eat, they say
to drink, they say
to relish one’s labor
is the only source of joy

meaningless is the rest,
so the teacher says

from experience i would agree
but where does this leave me?

to eat is to die, i say
flesh is a burden
to drink is foolish, i say
rigidity is a comfort
work is futile for mortals

meaningless is still the rest
so where does my frantic soul find its joy?

i guess this is my peroration;
i will die in stubbornness
or learn to quite my says

to know i am the least bit special
is actually the greatest news i’ve heard
in nearly 8,000 days

I tip toe the line
having spent the savings of my heart
grasping for this delusion

the step off is in sight
yet suddenly,
I’m a child with feet sunk in snow

Is it truly a guise that I’ve sought so hard?
that’s been a knife cutting chunks off my heart?

a dream that’s been so real
pulling my teetered steps
for all these miles

is made of dirt

that stuffs my throat
and dries my lungs
and laughs as I stare

“are you serious?”
to which it chuckles
“you never asked!”

quite numb
like the hmm of a mute TV

every heart thump is stunted
as if bungee chords hold it down
but that’s just how it is now

life has settled in my skin
according to gravity
like the rotting bottoms of fruit
wisped away by the air
through this skin become mesh

my heart no longer pumps
it spins like the earth
except mine is hollow
a heavy shake and I feel the singe
of where you burned a hole
and I’ve been dripping since

as long as the earth goes
so too will my heart circle
a steady infinite hollowness
waiting for the past to change

maybe like a watermelon
i will sound right to someone
but really what would that serve?
another means nothing, so too does the past

maybe this was my big bang
the beauty of space comes from it’s emptiness
just there
i guess i’m just here
and my spinning weightless heart
serves a purpose just the same