Don’t dangle me
to the carrot

I have spent so much energy, time and money
avoiding pain
not realizing that it is a gift
its own reward
only earned
by enduring it
securing it
surrender
work
effort
sacrifice.

Can’t get it just by sitting
watching
resting
talking.

But I can earn it
by listening
abiding
patience.
The crime
is not taking time
pain is earned
with time spent
with the climb
into someone’s tortured heart.

Pain must not be spurned
it must be earned.

Untitled because it is not about any one thing. It is of the stuff written about, untamed, undiscovered… un yet. That which is just beyond. Before the hand reaches it, before the eye sees, before the mind pours it into the shape that is comprehensible. It is pure. It is debauched. It is half and complete. It is the blind mice playing a symphony with small instruments in Schrödinger's black box where he suspects a cat to be. It is the mother of “Ah Ha” and the father of “Eureka” that is this tear.

Be neither this nor that
He nor she thin or fat
Be and being not
From any given lot

That grail of poetry
That makes it be
This lightless paint
What tis and taint

Who may choose may
Find who chooses say
It choose me instead
I am and was dead

Be rabbit or sacred star
Do I follow and how far
If I am weary I resume
My fleshy wick consumed

So big… yet so small
So… yet… so it is all
Great be in my being again
Now at least I have been

As I approach the edge
Of awareness
Danger flashes!
A veil of flame
You risk burning fingers here

Pain
Confusion
Shame
Guilt
Crushed by the weight of the past

Once invisible worlds that shimmer
Just out of focus
Beyond the veil

What draws me near?
Why do I risk burning?

I have not always felt the lie so clearly
But as I learn and explore my world
The shallowness of my existence has been plumbed
Found wanting

It doesn’t match the world that others see

To see their worlds
I must
Walk through the fiery veil
        To connect
        To love
        To fit the pieces of their worlds and mine together

Now I pity those I was once like
Trapped in their small worlds
Blinded eyes
Plugged ears
Wrapped in cotton

They don’t know what they don’t know
But a part of me knew
A part of them knows
And mourns

For the world that waits for them
Beyond the veil

Applause to this object
A star to look up,—
But stands lower than a house
Who gathered all the fantasies— of hopeless travellers,— Which seek for devoted fancies.

Sparkling garlands,—
Simply, a life of itch
Flashlights everywhere on the platform,— Inutile to its basis
I memorize the trades of their toasts—
One day, I shall have my own boast.

After wiping spots on gold bars,—
I am still not a debauchee of love;
Even if they buzz,— Beehives— Are not mine to offer,—
But a gourmet to their stomach.

Assets clothing their merchants—
Reserving the furnitures—
To show the best features
For myself, I want a slammed window,—
Not some firm statues
"Galatea, we all desire Galatea!"

How adorable when 'twas knotted,
Lovely, but not loved,
Sheltered, yet not protected;
Paid, but not proclaimed
How many landlords will adapt me?

There is a target—
To a sudden stampede—
Oh, how startling!
Please, capture me
I will submit to your traps!
This bird is willing to be caged— Away!
I may now have my arrows— To run the bay!
Flipped death is my reward..

When you find
that we are lost
nobody owes concern
direction is guided
by open eyes
the reward
unfurled wings