It's not the one who goes along
Who holds the real power
Nor the loudest demanding voice
That pretends, then cowers

He who holds Virtue's endowment
Doesn't command the room
The perceived misfitted outcast
Who, when dark, they come to

great stories open behind sad eyes
each subtle note
from a great fight
foreshadowing blindspots
from the epic

Baristas, patrons
Even the quicksteppingsuits
Can read you like a book

Your face tells the story
"Tempt not a desperate man!"
They see all your chips on the table
Out like that

A few lines of heartfelt disclosure
Now appear
And you disappear
Back to the world's rhythms

With quick detachment
    from the school of fish
Down depths darkened
    to majority's wish
Resolve gracious endeavors,
    minds still free
Love and kindness hides
    in ****** poetry

deserving nothing
so you say, with great audacity
proclaiming all as gifts
proclaiming what has been overcome

you appear now before me
    sitting in your canoe
    at the bottom
    of the drained-empty lake

victorious!

in the universe
    or universes
    or beyond, perhaps
is enough unknown
    worthy of learning
if just to appreciate
if just to understand
the magnitude
of my ineptitude
to make me unable
to give any time
to know-it-alls

All mystery
Is prone to interpretation
So grab it by the jowls
To the roar awakened

Someone told me
My poems sound like they're
Written
Two hundred years ago
By an incomprehensible lunatic
To which I can only reply
"Whitman or Emerson?"

The greatest fear
Most westerners hold
Is losing their conveniences

But missing art
And its grace unfold
Gets my trepid allegiances

See, dear, see

Birds sing you to wake
Waking to the modern dream
Beats of heart-drums
Rhythm of air into lungs
Feeling of earth on bare feet

Curious of when first memory
Was created
Of coffee grounds, universes
And saturn's rings

Do thoughts increase?
Increasing through a lifetime
All lifetimes

Do thoughts focus?
To miniscule photons
What horton heard

And visibility
Over the wall of these five minutes
Of fear and remorse

Inertia of these gentle beats and rhythms
Increasingly miraculous
Increasing mortal language

See, dear, see

a dim reflection skips a beat
complete with foreign tune
matter not wholly familiar
where voice and image loom

inside - or outside - looking in
peering at copy dark
impressing shadow silhouettes
awake only in part

endure now the present tarry
the mirror's steady lies
and the twelve year old is still here
after shutting both eyes

There are larger nights
Where suns dance away
    On western shores
Quieting creatures
Before they unleash
    Wild howls, primal roars
Where deep drink lovers
Tangle in easily
    And desire more
Where all is echoed
Nothing is mortal
Raw souls together
   Glimpse evermore

Sinking organs
Surrounded by unshared smiles
Failing in the center ring
Witnesses to my trial

NOW will be impressed forever
Dying my canvas shade
There are no corners to hide in
I am a fraud, I have been made

Seeking not high words
The cat refusing to release my tongue
Lofty clouds quickly vanish
Today's truth in the saddest songs

it remains superfluous
to dive straight into the deep
darkest corridors and tunnels
    to detect pure light

or is it?

for the curious shake fear off
for precisely such missions -

how else can it come
but by love and truth
powerful enough
to tear the universe's fabric
and break through?

sitting - finally now
at day's end
imagining
this evening will not last long
but still - it lasts long enough
for my mind to forget some
of this rotation's subtle niceties
and focus on uglier regrets
    suddenly
becoming - THE WORLD
crashing it's weight down
and cognizant flight
goes left and right!
what must be done?!
    a long walk? fresh oxygen!
    alcohol!
    that cigar bar?
    that other bar I saw?
but before I can quickly medicate
my same mind
    calls up that night
we laughed so hard
together
the way you smiled
and I strain
with every bit of heart I have left
to hear your voice
with hope
that my shoulders
can let it all go

Backroom deals
And basement squeals
Sacrificed morals
For comp'd meals

Sacrifice of soul
To gain its full
And the whole world
Unworthy the toll

Palpable grin
Over a dark within
Forfeit to shallows
And a life too thin

Let us not wait!
For all this to be over
To return to normal (circa 2019)
When it’s not so difficult

Let us not wait!
To enjoy each other’s company
Phone calls used to last hours
And long form letters were an art form

Let us not wait!
To invent and create new
To live out old dreams in new forms
To grasp and create beauty

Let us not wait!
For life to be easier
For fears to subside
For tragedy to dissipate

There is a time to mourn
And the loss of life and livelihood
Has crushed with dense Fog
Of enormity, confusion, fear and loneliness

And in the Fog we must find our brothers
Pull them and ourselves to newly formed graces
Life requires living
And life finds a way (circa 1993-Jeff Goldblum)

Some go ahead, to trip or prize
To allow common day
Some go on further, to their end
Relief and win at lay
Some go past, eyes-filled guilt or pride
To that which won't return
Some go further, to never was
Utopian bliss-filled yearn
Few stay here, hearing today's bird
Perceiving now's great space
Magic greater than fore or aft
Mind and body in place

don't call me unworthy that I'm not something else
my strengths are my flaws, you see that
let's list them, shall we?
too generous in negotiation
overly trusting, overtly gullible
giving the benefit of the doubt, freely
but you must see, a minuscule biological THING bumped the pendulum
and it swung wildly, early on
opening visibility into human potential
that souls are blind to themselves
you see their flaws so clearly
peering through a horse bridle
or night vision goggles
dampening all but bright-red heated flaws in 2D shallow depths
I understand your frustration
You have a job to do
And I am weeping through my beard
and belly-laughing for something they did twenty years before they died

sharp words sting for days
washing little off to drains
shadows only in stature seen
until final loose fate will deem

what can't be cleaned, cannot wash
others perceive as blatant loss
to what? but ancient wounds
left ages before midnight's spoon

love pierces through such shame
caring little about a name
healing is returning, granted or not
lessons learned though never taught