Take Away

Seldom going on about

The way the rain can speak

To think the count was higher now

Than ever it would peak

To rush around through falling wet

Accompanied by none

And twirling in the loathsome dim

Enchanted by its shun

Mirrored in each dewy piece

Making beauty where it went

And creeping suddenly about

In all the time it spent

Thrashing through the space between

The unbecoming sway

An unimaginable gaze

To take the breath away

The glow surrounding at this point

Was woven by the dawn

And there was no good reason

It should be sung as a song

So ever

That there would be anything

but the breaking of day

to better beg the question,

historically, I know not of it.

The question being, of course,

how to go about this.

I pause never less than a breath

to spring upon the fragments of this,

the unleavened artillery, that perches

sometimes thoughtfully,

sometimes thoughtlessly,

in clouds of space all about my frame.

Impending then, the answer.

So curious it seems to me,

to spend so many hours in pursuit of that

which may not take a form I’d know,

even should I ever come upon it.

Nevertheless, I thought

So ever I’d query

Whatsoever,

Wheresoever,

Howsoever long;

Until I came to there

which may not be.

Lucky it is then,

that I have come to see

that what I seek and what I think

shall never intersect under my command.

For the only thing I know

is that I know no thing

but that contained within

this very phrase.

And with every being out

in search of answers never found,

ought not we be so ever more

concentrated on the questions?

About a Sign

A bridled tongue
And sundipped pen
Will try to fight for me again--

Through every day that I'll have passed
As long as frigid tremors last
To reach the depths of what I know
(To the extent that it is so)
I'll practice wholly thinking of
The time and space continuum
And hopefully with fist clenched pain
Can stumble out of dreary frame
And into lighted world unknown
By any other than a throne

The bleakness of my eyes' report
Is murdered by my heart's contort
Envisioning acceptance of
The world I know in swing because
Of thoughts and deeds done not by I
But rather, wholesome friend nearby
And I will rest in full despite
The treachery in sound and sight
And inhale every inch that's brought
And finally make love with thought
That books are penned and songs are sung
Indifferent of my breaths when young

I feel its warmth but see it not
(The day the answer is begot)
And clouded mind will finally cease
Disturbing every shred of peace
I will resemble each remark
However wretched, shrewed, or stark
And own my own as given by
A magic giver in the sky
I'll all at once begin to shout
How sea and sky could do without
The story of mistaken trust
Obliterating every "must"

How bittersweet of this conclusion
To coax me from the rash illusion
That I am fully worthy of
The first five movements from above
I'll feel and know when time is best
That my whole vanity's a jest

Were I to wake to find the ground
I walked upon was still around
And tree and rock not marred nor scathed
Positions perfectly arranged
First witnessing the plans unfold
Each plant and person rightly told
Here all exist were I not me
And where I am is where I'll be.

The Same

Dark clouds rolling around
Dancing, swirling with the sound
Thin and sudden strips of light
Thick, deliberate drops of night

Faster beating, shorter breathing
Eyes like oceans, heart is steaming
Knuckles raw and war-torn
Words that pierce, a stream of scorn

Lids lock at once to hide the gloom
Thoughts unspoken fill the room
Mind fizzles, shortened fuse
Collects itself within the muse

The lull itself will wallow in
Until the shades are drawn again
At that moment godsent dawn
Reveals the dark, once there, is gone

Golden morning streams on through
Making mirrors of the dew
A fragrant breeze like baby's breath
Cancels any thoughts of death

Fresh windows to the soul are dry
Lungs expand, collapse in sigh
Furnace within has been removed
Tired mouth and mind are soothed

Mind will choose, body will follow
Heart will either fill or hollow
Come upon Earth wind, sleet, and flame
The Sun will rise and set the same

cheap imitation.

mockeries of lockdowns
& locking you up downstairs
would never do,
supposeitdids & whatifs
don't amuse you,
& my imagery is
useless unless
these things
make you itch
where your heart is.

so my prayers go out for you
through your inky jet blue
night
& periodically throughout
my rose-colored-bright
day
as well.

with the leftovers of my 24 hours
i contemplate your structure
& what it is that makes you wriggle inside
your arduously polished patterns.
lipsticks, chopsticks, matchsticks, eye tricks-
maybe that's what little yous are made of.

& maybe we will explore it together-
the depths of your psyche, that is.
& we'll pour over your inhibitions
to come in contact with divinity.

& it's possible that even in the afterglow
you'll continue to peruse clearly empty aisles
in a hopeful manner[?]
& i'll continue to wonder why you're surprised
when the curtain falls before your final soliloquy
& your breath is taken back,
just like that shirt you got at half price,
because it so failed to live up to
the designer's version.