I believe out of fear for
I don't know what happens next.
So I get on my knees and pray,
tracing a cross against my chest.

I don't want to fear,
but i don't want to miss a possible fact.
I don't want to be denied access to heaven,
and spend eternity staring into black.

I fear every day,
especially since I'm full of sin.
So I pray I'm forgiven,
I have no choice but to give in.

The nervous afflictions
of poets drive
doctors to dismay;
it is difficult
and dangerous
to diagnose
a chameleon
in a thorn bush.

Integrity:

All these decades
thirsting in the wilderness
and still he refuses
to drink the kool-aid.

Delight:

He has lived alone
so long that
he has learned
to hug himself
and enjoy it.

Where is the illness
in either?

the brilliant morning
no longer invites

every TV show
is a rerun

books that screamed
now murmur

even the body
speaks in the past tense

now becomes was

the falling away
of self
into shadow

even when time
falls and freezes
like winter leaves

the urge to consciousness
resists surrender

how we long for
bright new moments

right to the brink
of nightfall

even as the white flag of death

slowly unfurls

Svvollen
midnight appendages
   of unremitting venture
for a taste of the vivacity
inside your nectaries
Avvaiting a return
correspondence
upon desire
please

Sometimes
all you can do
with a broken heart
is close it up
for repairs
hoping to
to reopen it
later, shinier.