15 Friday May 2020
Posted in poems
The known and the unknown, truth and fiction,
seen and unseen, something and nothing,
it’s a cruel calculus that passes for reality.
The world is cagey in its obviousness,
impossible to know things just as they are
when all we see are patterns of light and dark.
The latest version of me is wondering how to feel at the end of this chain. It’s like sitting in …
It is impossible to find the beginning again, but still, we need something new, something like the beginning, again and …
We are born bewildered, with the crutch of obsession, into this mysterious algorithm of existence, this churning system of our …
Everything is on hold, wisps of smoke, clouds, fog, mist. The still morning air is a ruthless shade of gray. …
When I was a child I was a wind-up toy searching for the great secret: how to see past the …
It is dark as radar here, with nothing more than a sense of where we are, and this rattling breath …
After George Oppen A constant weight on the Earth, restless angels with absolute desires. Our savage hearts beat with fantasies …
Knowledge is of sorrow, boredom, ecstasy, the weather, -watching the storm clouds approach like ideas that never quite arrive or …
A thought, planted like a symptom, rises to the top, another thought suffocates under the weight. This is an uncertain …
