posted February 18, 2008 12:01 AM            

I just want to say something.

If anyone is listening,
I just want to say something.

Are you there? Are you listening?
Can you hear the sound I'm making?

Is there anyone around?
Or Am I a falling tree in the forest?

posted February 18, 2008 12:20 AM            

I can't feel you.

You know I can't feel you, right?
It just won't happen.

Touch me. Go ahead.
There's nothing you can do.

I can't feel you.
What do you want me to do?
To try?
To imagine?
That maybe something is there
When there is really nothing?
When all around this brilliant light
There is no warmth? What burden!

To live a lie!
Would that be so?
If I should just imagine
That every time you touch me
To be something when it's nothing?
Would that be a lie?

What if!
What if I felt something?
Would it be real of me to feel
If it was simply an imagining?
To be there with a stolen touch?
Or would it be delusion?

Go ahead. Touch me.
There's nothing you can do.

posted February 18, 2008 12:37 AM            

I should've never told you.

posted February 18, 2008 01:09 AM            

Why?
Why ask?
Why ask this question
Or the next?
What sets us up into this
Tripping of Minds and Thoughts?
Hearts and Emotions?

Why ask?
Is there something
Underneath
That wills not to be misgiven
By sudden words of candor -
A trickling of misconception?

Why ask
When even in misgivings
And misconceptions
There are thanksgivings
And great conceptions?

What kind of craziness is this?
Where is wrong when all is right?
Where is black when all is white?
Where is sin when all is grace?
Where is the lie when all is truth?

posted February 18, 2008 01:16 AM            

Dear God,

Am I a good person?

I didn't think to ask until now.
I don't really know what sparked it.
Maybe I feel like I'm not.
Maybe I could be doing more.
Or maybe I just want to know how well I am really doing.

Can I gauge myself as accurately as you can, Lord?
Is that possible?
To be a God inside a man?
They say Jesus did it.
So many questions, Lord. I can't possibly ask them all!

God#@$%@%#$!
What is all this?
I just don't know sometimes.
I mean, why so many chances?
What is it that I'm supposed to get straight?
Nevermind, I know.

posted February 18, 2008 01:30 AM            

Running
in the dark
one-thousand miles per hour.

Cliché.

Oh, jeez. I even used a search engine to find that accented "é" so I could cut and paste it here.
Did it again just there.
What is that? Is that me? Am I that guy?

Oh, to hell with judgments. Even my own.

I'm running, fast.
But I'll tell you something.
I'm keeping my head on straight.
I don't need to ignore anything.
In fact, I should keep seeing everything as I do now, but even more so.
Go beyond it.
Go further.
Keep running.

Is there such a thing faster than light?
Science should know.
Keep running
in the dark.
Faster.
Maybe the light will catch up?
Or something will, whatever it is.

I can't stop.
Keep going.

Wait...is it making sense?

There it is again, judging...

Head straight. C'mon!
Keep it together.
Yes, there it is.
It is making sense.
I can judge that.

It's ok. It's not all bad.

Breathe.

Keep running,

like a shot,

in the dark.

posted February 18, 2008 11:31 AM            

Forget it.
You don't really want to know
anyway or anyhow.

And I don't blame you either.
Too many things,
There's just too much
to do.

Get up, get ready.
Eat this for comfort.
Get in the car, pray.
Pray that it will turn on
or that it won't take too long
for the engine to ignite.
Be thankful when it does take too long anyway.

posted February 18, 2008 05:32 PM            

As simple as it is,
it isn't always clear.
As simple as it is,
I just don't see it.

Nothing.

Nothing there,
nothing here,
nothing anywhere
and near.

Where's it gone?
Where'd it go?
I just had it
a second ago.
So simple, as it was,
like a tiny little marble
in my giant, awkward hand
as it slid through my fingers.
Nothing.

Why is it so tough?
It seems so rugged tough!
I just don't think I see it,
as simple as it may be.

And no one else admits it.
Not even I to them.
They all go on with answers,
empty in between the lines.

I thought I knew so well
but what I know is nothing.
That's all I know for certain.
That's all I love and live.

And only fools would think it empty,
as simple as it is.
Only fools don't think of nothing.
Only fools go on amiss.
But are there any fools?
For we all do think of nothing
as we all each take a turn
to engage and then to parry.

posted February 18, 2008 06:21 PM            

My something is my nothing.

What difference is there?

Nevermind.

No matter.

posted February 22, 2008 07:35 PM            

Truth cannot be possessed.

That which is not seen is still there.
That which is not heard is still beating
upon its very own space and void.

Do not conjure the Spirit.
It is not a dog to be led,
though much like a dog,
it will listen.
Call Him and He will beckon.
Name Her and She has genesis.

No, Truth is not possessed.
One's truth cannot be true if it is not another's.
That contradicts the Element.
It violates the Spirit.

posted February 22, 2008 08:50 PM            

I have the upper-hand.

Oh, yeah...
I really do.

I have the upper-hand
because I know it's not with you.

Don't tempt me or
I'll scrawl across the world
and blow through curtains discreetly.
Don't tempt me to sing
a voice often unsung,
my own driftwood passing as
a quiet squeak of nothing.
These things already happen.

I have the upper-hand
because there is no upper-hand
that's given any second due.
So I, for one, will give to self
my own shrewd appraisal.
Who else could I so care enough
to pair with in this shelter?
None so befitting.

I have the upper-hand.

posted February 22, 2008 09:22 PM            

Mollusk of a farther shore

Sweet and salty, the air around a heartbeart

Snails sing softly and shine like rounded rocks

Wet seaweed-dusted heads

Transluscent in the sun

Waters sidle up on pebbled couches

I am beached in the hollow of a skiff

My lips are threadbare scarves

My ankle is the color of the spirit

Patience is a polyp in my throat

Somewhere an engine is struggling

A woman is scolding her son

The sky is blue as Mary's robe

The clouds are white as her dress

Gulls bark at inestimable distances

Two mountains surround a sunset