Tag Archives: emotion

When your pulse tugs, listen.


If you could hold it in your hand

Like dust tied down in space
And time, paused for the occasion

Would you?
The heart of your whole life,
The culmination of what truly mattered in the end
In the right now

If you could, would you?
Stop striving, leaning into the noise, pressing into the rush in that non-thinking way
And hold dearly whatever it is you hold dear?

Can you pinpoint it if you try?
And in the finding, could you revel in it deeply enough to feel alive?

We don’t, that’s my conclusion
Open-ended yet certain

I see a consortium of forests
With no trees
A pavilion of hearts
With no beat
An ocean of eyes
That can’t see
And nobody anywhere is dancing


I want to hold you in my hand



I Am Not Your Victim

I Am Not Your Victim

The worst-tempered people I’ve ever met were people who knew they were wrong.
–Wilson Mizner

I chased myself
In circles, ragged
Eyes hanging so sad
Searching, seeking
Some invisiblity
Some nonexistence
Some thing

Oh lonesome fool
I was

And one flesh, I became you
Joining in the party of pity
Hanging itself to death each night
Lay me down to sleep

Silence, sing of sorrows
Bringing lullabies
Be them borrowed

I have mastered the art
Of screaming
Without sound

How can this man I half became
Be still too deaf, too dull
To carry
And what of me
Of belief, of wedding

Nevermore, nevermind
Axes buried

And I, the madman’s trophy
Am now
No more than nothing
But once upon a time

Hindsight happens.

Hindsight happens.

It’s not what you look at that matters; it’s what you see. –Henry David Thoreau

I fully knew the probable outcome going into my situation. I forged ahead anyway.

I’m one of those people. I have to experience the truth for myself. If it isn’t firsthand knowledge it doesn’t feel like truth. It feels like secondary opinion.

Head knowledge is different than heart knowledge, and people like me will choose a broken-hearted wisdom over ignorant bliss every time. Without exception.

I’ve worked my way through the mine fields, planting a plant or two and singing my songs when I could. I came into things with a “can-do” attitude… I will leave humbled.

Willingness and ability are only divided by the variable of opportunity, of circumstance. I’ve at least learned that.

I wouldn’t do it again for any amount of money, or any promise of hope. Promises get broken. Money spends. There isn’t much worth gambling on or hoping for in this world anymore. I never really was the betting kind anyway. I simply took chances, and I took them not to succeed but to learn.

Succeeding in learning isn’t fun. For what it’s worth.

I’ve built a monument to tragedy in memory of innocence. I’m not sure which hurts worse: the memory or the tragedy.

Time measures our lives in units of sorrow, in incremental fractions of longing. In the moment, we only see what we can’t wait to have. Afterwards, we only see what we can’t get back. The “now” is a mistress of misery in this unseeing way, and the world –so madly– keeps spinning.

Fullest Measure


I twist and contortion myself
Into an apostrophe
Possessive indication
Of belonging
I belong

I stretch and distortion my song
Until it bleeds
To the key of F
To G, it then sharpens
I am sharp

I stay and moderation my thoughts harp
Reduce and reuse
Recycling pain
Invitedly magic now participates
I am part

I realize and reckon my heart
Into a fog
Fielding fantastic gait
Fury and fateful
I am fate

I am undone, a heaven, its gate
…in this present moment
I can count the infinite number
I can touch stars that burn until the fuse won’t outlast
I am out, last
In, first

Companioning all that was Thirst
Now the Quenching
Satisfied wisdom
Stays candid
I can

Abstractioned for man
A massive-most whale
A gianter squid
A gamble; a male
Telepathy: win
He says, This is it kid.
Whatever you’d like.
Simply surely soon sail
And then have it
But have not
My ghosts
For you live
I am (in the words
and the worlds still)


This life
As abided
Remaindered and there
Stilled. Settled. Purposed. Squared.
A fine and aged process
I am proceeding
And pleased to keep breathing

Up, as down did. And I do
For all time
Reunioned surrendered and blissful

Someone said there’d be days like this.

Someone said there’d be days like this.

It’s a certain madness.

The coming on of days, relentlessly break. Themselves over my head like the tide’s rushing waves. Crash and collapsing on the sorrow-filled haze that swiftly becomes my own newest now-state; perpetual longing. Days and days. Like some mathematical equation, the series of hours consecutively adding themselves upon one another with exponential unforgiveness; delirious daze. The multiplication of an enigmatic pain. One plus one plus one more, forever. One at a time. Times nine times nine. It never stops and doesn’t care if I like it. Doesn’t ask if I’m ready. Doesn’t let me ask why. Reason and purpose are no longer mine.

Ring around the rosies with my pockets full of worries and the air is growing heavy and it’s good to be alive. Depression is a dance and so I shall, I vow — again again. Oh my oh my, pretend pretend. The dancing floor is riddled with holes but they all lead nowhere. Thousand no’s, thousand maybe’s. Rocks don’t roll. They only bury.

Dance they say. Without a partner, on display and the music is broken and refuses to play but dance dance dance dance anyway. To what. For why. Because because, and heaven lays her head to cry. Though not for me, for what I’m not. A robot in a shrinking box. The moon is laughing at my thoughts. I still can’t find the sense I got that everything will be alright and this will pass like dreams at night.

Am I dreaming? Someone screaming silent tears that wet the sky. A loud distorted lullaby. Waxing, waning. No complaining. Full and empty, dissipating. I wake up mostly twice a day, the rest I close my eyes to stay surrendered blind to pain inside that nothing gives me space to hide.

The why’s and where’s are far behind. Memories; they’re over now. (Down my head to sleep shall lie. Itself, it hurts. It grows in spurts.) So sink me like a sunken bow. The ship has sailed, float on with wow… -less proof that I’m still breathing.