Not about me

At most, my pain diminishes me

I feel small, I feel nothing

I feel the nothing pulling me in

I know its name, its harmonies well up

They pour out of my eyes and stain my life

At best, the pain underscores the why

Without agony there is no joy.



Why haven’t you come home yet?

Your pictures lie to me, the life in them misleading

I see your face and patiently wait for you to come bounding through the door.

But they lie, they lie;

You are gone, and no life will replace you.


Someday soon I’ll face my flames; I’ll

Sail the endless, salt-less waves; I’ll

Kill my shadow and hunt her kids; I’ll

Shiver in longing for places I miss; I’ll

Enter the rain-streaked hall where I died.

I’ll spit up the flood and weep out the fire

Each tear-drop a hurricane-blaze of desire

I’ll snarl at my tea-cup friends, singing their songs

I’ll roast up their curly-Q freedoms and toast

Every son-of-a-wanderer, filling their souls

With the cracked black asphalt-crumbles tickling my toes.

Someday soon I’ll drink my fire. I’ll

Let the roamers know I’m for hire. I’ll

Drink from the slate-granite stars, on the fly. I’ll

Let every bone swimming in my blood taste

The sky


I lose my breath for the ways we wept

Carving our chains from the sorrows we claim

I curse my hands as they build my plans

The coffin sized for me that I lovingly heed

Each step towards my death I shriek as I grin

I cannot stop mourning even as I descend

Why do we not cease all this clamor and doubt?

I know what will save me but I grieve anyhow

We built our own tomb-traps but we gild them and stay!

filling the rooms with silver decay

Floating our corpses in gold-blood and gloom

We’re certain this death will not be the last

We’ve died so many times in the past