These maple trees
leaf out, each year,
copper-purple.
They know spring,
but they
do not know
of spring.
- mce

Men ask the way to Cold Mountain
Cold Mountain: there's no through trail.
In summer, ice doesn't melt
The rising sun blurs in swirling fog.
How did I make it?
My heart's not the same as yours.
If your heart was like mine
You'd get it and be right here.
     ~ trans. Gary Snyder

Sometimes
what
you don't know,
can
hurt you.
-mce

The evening is still,
no breeze;
the tress tell me nothing but "Wait."

How long will it be
until I can say
exactly what I want,
and be heard
AND BE HEARD
without a word?

But a walk my way
and time to play
will tell me time has won
finally;

For faith and trust
took over
and anything lost
is nothing anymore.

And if no Us,
it is I
I have found.
And that's enough for both,
I know.

I know.

Look at me –
we are in this room
in this house
on a night where
you are bored and lonely
and want to prove that you can
have skin on skin,
lips against your neck,
her purring your name,
and I know how this works-
you look at me,
eyes half open,
and I look like the stars
but look at me,
I am no constellation.
I am the OPEN sign
blinking, half-lit,
on a motel lobby door.

I'm fun for the night.
All quick comebacks
and a ****-me smirk.
Everything I say sounds
like a challenge that
I, by the end of the night,
will have you dying to
accept – because between
the tequila and the beer
and the fact that at least
I am a body,
tell me you won't say no.

I am not stupid.
If this is happening
it is because I am letting it.
So go ahead, tell me
that I am beautiful,
that you want me,
pull me into you
and kiss me on the forehead,
let me think that you care
and I promise I will let
myself believe it.

But don't think about,
do not even think about,
thinking about me the next day.
Because I am one-time use and
toss kind of woman. I am not
the kind of girl that guys love.
If I learned anything,
in twenty years,
it's that I am not an investment.
I am a novelty.

I can no longer stand to fight facts.
This is my white flag to the Universe.
Because pretending to be something you
are not is a pain worse than
the ache of knowing.

I am no a constellation.

The boy came back from school
'My head hurts, I think I'm ill!'
He said, clutching his knowledge.

'Not so,' said his father
Bearing his own like a banner
'You're just learning.'

'Every book read is a weight on the soul
Every word spoken is a scar on the heart
Each pencil held is a sword broken.'

The boy stood taller, but faltered still,
'I can't bear this curse, take it away, please.'
And the father looked down.

'If I could I would try a thousand times more than I have,
If I could I would spare you the pain,
Knowledge is a tunnel and,
There is no turning back.

Feel the crushing certainty of
Our hidden world in flames
And weep
You're a martyr to the truth my boy.'

From that day on
Books bore poisoned pages
Words were as vinegar
Pencils were heavier than the lead within them.

But the boy kept going
For, his head held high,
He knew he would die with the truth,
Rather than live with the lies.