the invisible hand is in my pocket
pilfering everything
and there's nothing i can do
to stop it from robbing me blind

it does not guide it only destroys
personal expression under the
whims of an outmoded model of economics
capitalism
a philosophy that subscribes
to the metaphysical conclusion
that a spiritual malady
plagues every human heart
a harsh chorus that rings like a melody
of triumph in the multi-million dollar
mansions of the 1%

convinced we're born selfish
it seeks to reward us for our own malpractice
an edict predicated on social darwinism
that forestalls the possibility of future charity
as it drowns in the throes
of misanthropy and butchers any hope
of philanthropic community or basic humanity
to vanquish our more maleficent impulses

relegated to paying taxes
to ensure the illusion of security
while our money finances endless
war and police brutality rather than
healthcare or education
they know if they keep us sick and dumb
they can get away with ******

if the population shirks in horror
from the looming specter of terrorism
they can justify ubiquitous surveillance
that robs us of our right to
self-determination but
people should not be afraid of their governments
governments should be afraid of their people

they say we can't be trusted
that this is for our own good
but i'll call their bluff that
bull on Wall St. is full of ****
and like a matador i'll entice it to
lower its horns and charge
when itsjust a hairsbreadth away
i'll turn to one side and let it skewer
the slave-driver raising his whip behind me
that same skulking shadow that turns
veterans into homeless wanderers begging
for loose change in Central Park
a pale horse haunting the aspirations
of college students it
leaves the poor and
oppressed shivering after dark and
overburdens broken backs
god doesn't hold up the world
like Atlas we shoulder the globe

now watch us shift the weight

brought down by the people you tried to suppress
this is not some petty expression of vengeance
but the rallying cry of a dream deferred
exploding out to meet your injustice
mark my words

we're taking over the world

The Great Interlude
Cold springs inky Blackwell gone from all that was special endearing a world of subjection with bounds
Expressed in tangible constants blessings fixed by strata and composition the fusing of the most
Elemental design in human life to love and be loved remembering from both sides with such intensity
The very world elliptical these pulsations reach their apex they do contend they harness all known
Reality they are extravagant in the extreme they gestate the rawest and fullest impact able truth
Forever swirls flows in the sweetest valuable treasure house each day every hour laughter and tears
Are weighed from youth till death every participle hangs know not the weight that is suspended in this
Airy clime the visitation the stitching of immortal souls in effortless joy in every syllable building blocks
Of deftest design were being appropriated where near or distant magic indefinable took new breath
Arrested the common and the extraordinary knowing not the magnitude all of matter was being forged
The great blacksmith of the past was surpassed no engineer of earthy skill can touch what was wrought
By a man and wife in their intimacy or their reach the breadth of the land and the stars bowed in
Wonder as their arching hearts surpassed there heights of wonder and grace tenderness distilled to
The thinnest equation where dreams were laid bare and on this truth scaffolding as thin as a
Hairsbreadth held a succession of thoughts achievements and future probabilities destiny occupied
Nothingness but left a bridge that all of life was welcomed was fixed to a point it grew balloon like it
Ascended by revelation in ordinary circumstances flesh and blood accelerated beyond the brains ability
To fathom where all of this was leading second by second generations were being spawned called forth
From hidden trajectories of earth and space go to the window of sharing recapture amazement it will
Pour comfort into the wound and sorrow of loss against all odds you forged the river of time made new
Life takes it first hesitant breath you were the recipients of miracles they plainly called them bundles of
Joy you cast fourth strains of indefinable rectory spirit was sparked and with love’s breath a fire grew
It is the quality of life and unalterable peace and joy submerged in every day peaks and valleys if you get
What this speaks of it will carry you over the valley up to the heights sorrow will replaced with
Benediction and esteem for what you both accomplished and wrought in this life which is only
A dress rehearsal for that which is truly amazing it waits in surety just beyond the confining strains
Of this blissful song you sang for a lifetime

It could have happened.
It had to happen.
It happened earlier. Later. Nearer. Farther off.
It happened, but not to you.

You were saved because you were the first.
You were saved because you were the last.
Alone. With others. On the right. The left.
Because it was raining. Because of the shade.
Because the day was sunny.

You were in luck — there was a forest.
You were in luck — there were no trees.
You were in luck — a rake, a hook, a beam, a brake,
a jamb, a turn, a quarter inch, an instant.
You were in luck — just then a straw went floating by.

As a result, because, although, despite.
What would have happened if a hand, a foot,
within an inch, a hairsbreadth from
an unfortunate coincidence.

So you're here? Still dizzy from another dodge, close shave, reprieve?
One hole in the net and you slipped through?
I couldn't be more shocked or speechless.
Listen,
how your heart pounds inside me.


Wisława Szymborska (translated from the Polish by Stanisław Barańczak)

All that I wanted is past,
and all that I hated will last.

I wanted.

During the day it was a ballet dancer,
light and free in the wind,
the sun puffing out her skirts
as she becomes one with the grass
and the tree's,
scraping her knee's with the weak care
of youth.

I wish that this was the whole truth.

At night it was a different story,
one which reeks of gory
skeletons in the closet.
A strangled safe with no deposit
key,
if I opened it,
would anyone listen to me?

I wanted to run downstairs and make them stop,
I wanted to throw a metaphorical rock
and lock the fighting away.
I wanted to stand in the door and sway
with the force with which I yelled "shut up".
Loud enough to make them see the **** up,
which their memories no longer admit,
but which mine allows to stick and sit to
the inside of my skull, the heavy thump
of their words, never to dull.

I wanted to make them hear what they couldn't see,
what they were going to make me turn out
to be.
See the weights which they were making me bear,
the chains which they were forcing me to wear
shackled to the bed on which I'd lie,
and sob, and wish the nightmare to die,
along with the monsters under my bed.
Which were slowly creeping into my head.
So I'd lay there and stare, at the sins of the grins
which they forced me to wear
in the daytime,
which is only a hairsbreadth away
from the stark truth of night.
My teddies knew more than the average of frights.

I wished them to be happy again,
but when they were happy, I have no idea
when.
I have no idea, if they were truly happy then.

It appears to be a myth of my construction,
a foreshadowing of my destruction.
A tale which doesn't include remote controls
thrown across rooms,
doesn't allude to bedrooms strewn with
the memories of a once happy tomb,
once glittering baubles of laughter
cast aside, shattered and scattered
with the cruel hate of ignorance.

Left for young hands to sew back together
with lack of skill made up by care,
their fingers tenderly caressing the tear which
they would soon learn to label their own self
harm,
in a bid to create a calm in the eye of the
storm.

The wound, well worn, was warm with constant reopening.
The little girl left to pray for hope again.

She ignored the strength the beast possessed,
she couldn't care less, she decided,
and so gently chided it to sit back down for tea
and tell her, once again her favourite bed time story.
It's yelling was dulled down by her own voice
humming within her ears,
of the song which was theirs,
and the grooves in the chairs where
she'd sit on his lap.
She learnt to ignore the harsh slap
of her mum down the hall.

The little girl curls up in a ball, a
peaceful smile on her face; full
of love, forgiveness and grace.
Inside her a war rages on, it's steady
beat masked by the song she still hums
and drums into her head.
The little girl lays down in bed.

At least in a while she may sleep,
her memories may fade, but they're
ones she must keep.

Cold springs inky Blackwell gone from all that was special endearing a world of subjection with bounds
Expressed in tangible constants blessings fixed by strata and composition the fusing of the most
Elemental design in human life to love and be loved remembering from both sides with such intensity
The very world elliptical these pulsations reach their apex they do contend they harness all known
Reality they are extravagant in the extreme they gestate the rawest and fullest impact able truth
Forever swirls flows in the sweetest valuable treasure house each day every hour laughter and tears
Are weighed from youth till death every participle hangs know not the weight that is suspended in this
Airy clime the visitation the stitching of immortal souls in effortless joy in every syllable building blocks
Of deftest design were being appropriated where near or distant magic indefinable took new breath
Arrested the common and the extraordinary knowing not the magnitude all of matter was being forged
The great blacksmith of the past was surpassed no engineer of earthy skill can touch what was wrought
By a man and wife in their intimacy or their reach the breadth of the land and the stars bowed in
Wonder as their arching hearts surpassed there heights of wonder and grace tenderness distilled to
The thinnest equation where dreams were laid bare and on this truth scaffolding as thin as a
Hairsbreadth held a succession of thoughts achievements and future probabilities destiny occupied
Nothingness but left a bridge that all of life was welcomed was fixed to a point it grew balloon like it
Ascended by revelation in ordinary circumstances flesh and blood accelerated beyond the brains ability
To fathom where all of this was leading second by second generations were being spawned called forth
From hidden trajectories of earth and space go to the window of sharing recapture amazement it will
Pour comfort into the wound and sorrow of loss against all odds you forged the river of time made new
Life takes it first hesitant breath you were the recipients of miracles they plainly called them bundles of
Joy you cast fourth strains of indefinable rectory spirit was sparked and with love’s breath a fire grew
It is the quality of life and unalterable peace and joy submerged in every day peaks and valleys if you get
What this speaks of it will carry you over the valley up to the heights sorrow will replaced with
Benediction and esteem for what you both accomplished and wrought in this life which is only
A dress rehearsal for that which is truly amazing it waits in surety just beyond the confining strains
Of this blissful song you sang for a lifetime

"Thank you" died on pasted lips.
A hairsbreadth length from freedom
flew up and rattled
strumming vocal chords like guitar strings,
'til struck into a barrier
like lapping waves against stone cold concrete
"let..me....ouuuuut....."
gasping
flopping on land
overflows, in flows of oxygen
can't breathe,
like a fish out of water.
can't break through,
like water trapped by a dam.
cannot forgive,
to give a second chance.
Disillusioned
by a little secret               I love you.
decrease the time step
and let the iterations skip beats
get there faster
with less accuracy
if...................for...................while
end.   ­                                           % for loop termination

Error in line 18-unknown message.

I make the incision now, split the skin with a scalpel.
In its white cage it stirs; I extract it carefully, fluttering against my ****** palm.
      Fear has quickened it, the fledgling trembles for escape, fleeing new emotions.

      Fragile vivisection awaits.

A search for what is missing in that which is complete.
      I wonder where to pin you.
Or leave your calming eyes, your soothing voice by the wayside.  In the grass verge beside my train of thought, and fronds of smoke will race me a thousand miles away from dreams of your affirmation.

In this misty mirror, I could write words that tap against my teeth, secrets that seep beneath my tongue.  Raindrops will wriggle down the wet pane and I’ll divine them, until the blindness of your breath erases them with clouds of lung-warm life, unread.
      I’ll strew the sandy acres of my hourglass before your feet; pray that time will trace the trail of your footprints toward me.

This tiny beating miracle in my clasp has an owner, has a tiny wound bleeding freely.
      Its only scar.
A jagged shard is needed here, a foreign broken bravery.

I’ll give this heart to that one, set it in their sober care for healing, to them that makes me unafraid to die.  Stitch it to the dappled wings of they who can staunch me against a final, helpless snuffing out.
      What it needs is a jigsaw piece, an opposite, a completion.  But all I see is a mirror, a maybe, a for-now.

And as I lean so hairsbreadth close and steam the glass between us, breathing my pulse toward you; slick a love letter upon the window that you will not take, for you do not look to see it.
      The bird in my ribs quivers for the first time, but it does not fly free.

For until it is from you,
      It is not for me.

some of us measure our lives
in trips around the sun
or in moments of bliss
when eternal happiness is
found in the hairsbreadth
between two milliseconds
but it's safe to say my
life is the sum
of all my lost parts

i've met some characters in my lifetime
had our fair share of sordid trials
and mischievous misadventures
epic enough memories to fill a storybook
that might rival the Illiad or Aeneid
but they all fade

       one
               by
                      one

we were all sadly misguided
they told us
that our friends are like the stars
that even if we can't see
they're still there
hiding in the empty spaces
where we used to find them

                            if
                     only
                  it
         were
   true

our friends our families our loved ones
are all like stars
shining brightly in the dark for
what seems like eons
crystal calm before impending doom
each of us
a supernova exploding outwards
and scattering to the bitter ends of
this cold and lonesome universe

and there's a certain
melancholy in sweetness
a tepid blessing in a curse
an oath inscribed in every atom in  
everyone and everything—
nothing lasts forever
death is the only promise

I am master of words.
I command, and they march forth
To do my bidding.
When the battle drums sound,
They arm themselves with slender swords,
Delicate and deadly,
Designed to slip through every hole
In an opponent's defenses
And leave wicked wounds.
When they come to the bargaining table,
They don their smoothest silver
And enter into the intricate steps
Of a dance that leads them in circles,
Drawing slowly closer
To their true purpose.
When they must be kept at bay
They find themselves facing walls
Tall and strong
Behind which they can find no exit.
I am master of words,
Until I fall into those endless chasms
Set in twin blue-green seas
Framed by milk.
The swift and deadly swords
Become sticks in the hands of children.
The dancers stumble and stutter
Over once-graceful steps.
Walls crumble, and every errant thought
Now seizes on the rich supply
And flings the words forth,
A hairsbreadth out of reach
Of my grasping hands,
Now just too slow to ****** them back.
With a single glance, the tables turn
In a heartbeat
And the words
Become master of me.

I used to make believe
In the stability of unity
And unified individually

Until the knot came undone
And I hung a hairsbreadth
Above oblivion

We built up Rome in a day
And for a while it was great
But I should have known
Easy come, easy go
You're gilded and I was sold
So we glimmered like fool's gold

Just Like fool's gold

I used to make believe
You and I were lost
interchangeably and there
Was a surety in security
But gold's just rust in training
And all time's wasted waiting

But you're not waiting any more

We built up Rome in a day
And for a while it was great
But I should have known,
Easy come, easy go
You were gilded, I was sold
And we glittered like fool's gold
So it's no surprise I find
That I'm better off alone

Should have known from the start
You cried easy and came hard
You were gilded, I was sold
It was nothing but fool's gold

her shivers
have nothing to do
with the weather.

i hold her as we sit in the back of an SUV
headed northbound for Gainesville.
she sleeps restlessly, waking
intermittently. breaths short
and forced. her mother sings
pop hits that pour from the radio,
a melody that rings somewhat discordant.

i run my hand
through her hair. still damp.
i wonder,
for not the first time,
if this gesture means
as much to her
as it does to me.

from the driver's seat, a mother sings,
"stand by me when you're not strong,"
but her daughter is asleep and can't
hear the song. i lean over, lips
a hairsbreadth from her ear,
whisper, "i love you,
Lexi." she smiles subtly.

maybe i was wrong all along.

a corpse flower
blooms beneath
a blue moon.
stench of death
held aloft
right underneath
our noses.
once in a decade,
hang suspended—
stuck in the liminal space
between two moments.
for a hairsbreadth
we wait
on bated breath.
amorphophallus
titan arum.
a reminder that joy
is fleeting, a rarity
eclipsed by twilight.

I watch as the night
Fades away to light
And I wish the night
could stay a little longer
And keep with it
The pounding rain and thunder

Dusk to dawn in your arms, I spend
While you, lovingly, to my wounds tend
Your lovely fingers caress my cheek
I forget all, in me, that which was bleak

I pull you closer and hug you tight
But I just can't seem to get it right
The closer I get, the closer I want to be
With hairsbreadth space, I still have to deal

That light forehead kiss
Those gentle fingers of bliss
This is my place of all cures
Those heavenly arms of yours

I still plead for the night to stay
But the morning light takes you away
And the rest of the day, I feel dead
Without you; though, you were always just in my head

My mom's passionate about Newton's second law of thermodynamics.
She uses a "mom" version which can be stated as:
"Daughters tend toward disorder if not managed."
If I'm nothing else, I'm vigorously, meticulously managed like a tiger that must be turned judiciously from one situation to another lest a foot be forfeit.
"You're too young for"... is more than a formulate, it's a knife-like rule-tool, to dampen upheaval, banish trespassers, and put the "new" under glass" just out of reach. It's forever primed, there in the parenting tool-belt and can be thrown with the gunfighter's liquid, skillful ease.
So when I say I'm into something "new," I mean I've tiptoed into that Tartarus where you find the scandalous, like short skirts and Internet *******.
The "new" is prima-facie proscribed until it's proven cold, safe and harmless then blessed like an old Disney movie.
Our impromptu confinement in suspending the world has allowed me unaccounted moments to sample and measure how this "new" might fit into my life.
So it is  now that I wake up every morning ready for crime and I live but a hairsbreadth from punishment yes, I've discovered one of God's greatest gifts and seductions - coffee.
After about a week, my brother, while I'm reading the news, transparently focuses my mom's attention on the cup by my iPad, by glancing, slowly with his eyes. My mom is fleetingly lost, then she alights:
"You're too young for coffee," she says.
I look up and groan.
Then, as she moves to collect the now-banned item, I send a sisterly glower to my brother who stands blithely and innocently sipping from his cup.