the world is on fire
stop what you’re doing
no
stop
nothing is fair and the sky is lit
broken
stop
listening
smiling dancing and buying
stop building hiding
breathing
complaining
stop spinning
stop spilling
stop drilling
for rain
i’m an ocean of echo
on the tilt-shift of dragon
i am gold and philosophy
still and bespoken
i am school with no student
blinded by billow
i’m the cloud of refrain
in a field of forgotten
stop
and now they say it’s not that bad, the sky isn’t
falling and here we are, bits of blue in our hair,
trapped in the rat-maze tracks we’ve worn in the
carpet, no longer even trying to get out.
and now they say sorry, so sorry, sorry, not sorry
and no one knows who cares, doesn’t care,
can’t care, wouldn’t care, cares too much,
has gone mad with the caring, can’t find
a damn thing to care about.
and now the sky is blue but it’s always raining and
the basement’s flooding, water seeping in around
the edges, no one sees if we close the door, ignore
the smell, carry on with dinner and distraction and
pretend people aren’t dying in a dark spreading puddle
of sour statistic.
and now. the question that only ever has one
answer, the damned unprepared living of it all,
smiling when the sun hits your face for one brief
silent moment, aching for life, alive love
laughter landing, burning through the
empty stare of days.
and now.
…
in the black lace
morning moment sunrise
hand held branch felled heart meld
water warped meander walk
of worship
…
there is no bitterness here
nor regret
just the walking off
weary worry
weight of the world
no solutions to carry
no voice fuel to parry
no answers hidden
in the littered grey gravel
just anger fury fear glinting off the back
of the (slick fake true) reel news
this sky that sky this sky
always leading always following
bluest
not enough
never
not enough
too much too much too much
to reach so high
…
these days
i drink information
through a funnel
an endless stream
of bits and bytes
hoping for
a nibble
or a pause
just long enough
to gasp
grasp
entangle
…
i listened for so long i went silent
mute as a river drinking dawn in the forest
mute as a sky bright with stories of stars
mute as a heart bleeding love like a wound
there are no words for any of this
no lexicon
for racing blindly through the darkness of reality
hawking bliss and deprivation in quiet turn
i am echo
singing jagged edge
across each mountain
you are breath
and something
less tangible
or everything
it’s all there
ramshackle and ready
prepared
but we’ve forgotten
history
her story
our collective
mind
i walk this path
i have traveled
too often
watch two bluebirds
savor sunshine
just the way March requires
i remember you there
on my windowsill
all magic and tragedy
survival
so often depends
on kindness
i say nothing
. . . . .
. . . . .
i let the dog out
and the moon was singing
down at the swamp
one thousand geese
honked the words
to a universal melody
polaris twinkled
guiding each of us
home
.
.
.
a giggle escapes
through the space
between
clouds
blue sky
bleeding
promises
and you
in the corner
throwing choices
at cracked white walls
always looking
for the one
that will stick
i hear an ocean of epitaph
singeing torn curtains
a whale on the roof
leaking tears
into gutter
grey gull
limping flight
through white waves of sand
a bead of laughter
rises up
beneath the surface
breaking skin and
creeping starfish
that will die
of too much sun
and the ball
rolling back in my
direction
comes to rest
at the edge
of false fealty
cliff hanger hopeful
and harpy sated
siren
marking grid
on fields of silent
glittered gauze
i once
built a moon
on a red wall of chapter
singing verse and pressing mortar
into cracks and desperation
all scrabble fingered
and blister burned
pasting love and scraps of
survival
over lies and offered
fiction
all the while pretty singing
this is the light
we eat by
this is the light
i worship at night
this is the light
i fly to
burning wing and hemmed
betrayals
my own false idol
swinging from a string
in the blackest corner
of orion’s night
.
.
.
digging deep through poisoned soil
seeking hope or refuge or both
and the flower opens
and we think pretty
but it’s all
just a matter
of survival
“this is not really happening—
you bet your life it is”*
hang your head
nod hello
run
stand your ground
i can’t remember
i can’t remember
your name
is
silence
or alice
or delilah
i can’t remember
and all you ever wanted
was bloom
.
.
.
