this four-cornered cave, i’ve been calling my home
the sun has dried up
and left bleached like a bone

this bone i’ve been living in, like an old woman’s shoe
but i have no children
and i have nothing to do

this deed that i’ve done, it has been done for me
but I was condemned
and condemned to be free

this freedom is nothing, not like freedom at all
i sit staring at shadows
shadows play on the walls

When I was a young idealistic thinker
I took the bait hook line and sinker
now I’m an old more skeptical believer
but I hope I’m still an open receiver.

Limitations of a human are still neglected,
Claiming that everything is possible.
Someone said,
Impossible is I'm possible.
If so, why not jump off a thousand metre cliff.

The saying is a virus,
Inciting young minds to dream the unachievable.
After all as goes by the saying,
Hard work is rewarding,
But then failures strike,
Dismay creeps in.
It is easy to blame not accepting that they are to be blamed.

Keep trying is another lie,
Since there is no time.
Life is short, dreams are more.
Life won't always give the best.

But there are men who have achieved much,
Not driven by ideal pursuits.
Respecting self is rare trait.

Where are you
my one perfect muse
the shape of contours
conjured in dreams
held since bud was formed

Where do you rest
waiting
like me for that
eclipse
of moments

Where?!

Are you even
embraced in capsule
light
weightless
located in One

Or are you diverse
scattered like seed on
winds unknown
beyond my reach
as I wonder

Where?!

Is it pointless to conceive
of your fullness
knowing deep down
you exist only in
poetry of disenchanted idealists

Newly formed realists
whose life work
lies smashed
pointless journey
reaching reality

Or will I glimpse you
in passing crowd
ephemeral but
sharply cut out
from all the rest?

I am trying
to keep my head above water...
and avoid looking at you
if i mistakenly do
I will sink so deeply
air will no longer be
a familiarity
not even a privilege
simply nonexistent
instead
i will solely breathe you in

Idealism boards its boat
and sails out to the ocean
and its middle reach.
Out as far as it will dare
it takes its detached opportunity
to yell its prayers
back at the beach.

"Wouldn't it be better,
if things were just [x] way?"

"The problem is that we're [here]
when we should be [there]."

Both bare and shoed feet
fist up the sand
and shout
shout, shout back --
They shout back,

"In the mid, your world is gold.
Here on the land, everyone's stomping toes.
On purpose. On accident. It happens.
**** happens. As far as living goes,
reality just is. So, sink with your conviction.
We challenge form, train adaptability.
Super humans laughing up from the tar.
We've come so far. We've come so very far.

It's still nothing."

in another life
i wear clay beneath my fingernails
and linen pants around my hips
fastened with a braided leather belt
rescued from my mother’s closet
one she wore in the eighties
when she met my father on the seaside of france
i carry flowers from the corner
down a gum-stained sidewalk
past the park i fell asleep in during one
slow sunday afternoon
there are cherry red stains on my pillow
some from my lips, some not
i’ve never been in love
but i’ve never felt alone
my nose is slender
and my collarbones flaunt themselves
beneath tanned skin
i am someone who drinks ***** and
orange juice while watering my plants
a longhaired cat licks its paws
in the windowsill
as i lie naked in the sunlight
reading tolstoy and kerouac
and obscure poetry introduced
by the neighbor in 4F
none of it matters
i am just like a cloud
like a creaking step
i share myself only through
spearmint breath and coffee dates
here are my sweaty palms
here are my uneven bangs
you will never know me