Wrecked

Sometimes,

I remember that

the radio continues to play

as a car wrecks,

and I think that’s

how we often live –

ravaged by pain,

aware of our destruction,

and, yet,

humming along.

VD 1/4

You are a snow day,

a game-saving buzzer shot,

the first sip of coffee,

and the last page

of my favorite book,

when good defeats evil

and love wins.

Unity

I think our trouble

with “unifying”

is that we glorify

a beautiful, abstract

unity,

but never —

never —

choose unity

above

sharing each and every

fleeting condemnation

that occurs to us,

and thereby

keep unity

from ever

becoming.

Staying

She pulls me

gently

down a well-worn path,

littered with ferns and old letters,

and brings me to

a flowery clearing.

“This is always where they leave,”

she says,

indicating the barren field.

“Yes,” I say,

“this is it.”

“This is what?”

“This is a perfect place

to build a home.”

Halloween

Breathing heavy,

I wait for light to leave the sky –

longing for your nighttime spell

a brutal, tortured tongue-tie.

You haunt me with your drawling voice

dark and yet unseen,

you disturb my foolish, failing heart

and call it Halloween.

Poetry

Poetry is for the living,

but death

is what grants it meaning,

making time so fleeting

and love so precious

that even poetry

can scarcely

touch it.

Lands Over Lands

Even if you’ve never

traveled beyond borders,

if you’ve entered

the open arms of love

or eclipsed the lighted end

of despair’s underpass,

you’ve seen

the most exotic things

this life offers.

Beauty

Is something

beautiful

because it is

unexamined —

mysterious, unique, untouched —

or is it

the exploration,

the unearthing of layers,

that makes a thing so radiant?