The worm

Why have you never been happy? Asked the caterpillar

I do not know, said the worm

For I have tried, to find meaning in wriggling through mud

Surely I have put effort into higher purpose 

Yet it eludes me for certain

And the caterpillar

Understood

For he would soon transfer his frustration

Into colored flight

Becoming even if for a short while

A thing of polination and cast of beauty

Surely people wept when his life, so short, would end

And still they taunt the worm though it cleanses the earth

For we are kinder to beauty than usefulness

And our lot is hard to fathom

From a ninety degree turn

Walking as we do, on top of the worm

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Moment #1

The blue

Crawls like a line of water

Containing streak of mercury

And just as you find

Strength

The blue

Omnipresent and unseen

Creeps closer

A malignant thing

Like a clerics collar loosened, seems a forlorn thing of no purpose

Disguarded stockings will lag wilted without wearer

Stripes on birthday paper are torn jagged

The margin of a novel bleeds it’s culmination

Deep grain in wooden table covers the scar

Flat white landscape, divided by sky and land

Endlessly running over the edge

Like blue hemmed girls, with pinkened mouths

Agape at the nonsense

Of our emotions

As they rise and fall 

Chords of melodies discordant

One step ahead of prediction

Mountain cedar wrapping her weeze

And January storm gathering

Washing out pollen like quiet swimmer

Reaching distant shoreline

Claim

Don’t open your chest up

let the butterflies out

burn the velvet gloves and seek to trust

hands held over hands in circles

dancing to the gravy of secure claim

Don’t risk dissolution

by the marble hands of your own family

it never gets easier

a little death upon a little death

pursed words kissing with violence

and just as you know all these things

you hang yourself by the neck

that’s the fool who is a child

keeps returning to empty chairs

all fall down

such is the rope burn

when love turns cruel

when love lets you down

family existing to crush the lotus

how then does the bloom float

something wide and spectacular

with waterlogged roots seeking ground

how then does the moon touch water?

reflecting shapes of wonder against glass

the hurt is

fierce and terrible

the tiger is

open mouthed

the knife digs

deep into sound

stars blitz like warm shower

lights echo in soft purr

you can cut me down with one word

you hold the key, you are my blood

and I love you when you hurt me

more than I should allow

how do we learn

to avoid exposure when

our wrists are bound

by family ties and emptiness

perhaps the pain is reminder

life is a knife, it can butter, it can cut

if we try we can surf

the upside more than down

like migrating streams releasing winter’s cold

 

 

Before their time

They say courage

Is learnable

Sometimes acquired in combat

 Trial by fire

But I have tasted white flames

Walked on coals

Swallowed whole

The seat of Hades

And still

Unable to grasp pole and walk electric tightrope

Never brave

A weathered rock unable to move

Even as sea receeds and escape, presents herself

It is not courage I possess

But by default

Staying power

Sometimes it is easier to be frozen 

Than act or flee

Simpler to tred water than

Drown or swim to distant shore

I am well versed in biding time

Treating days as if they were not precious

Undisciplined in

Owning my error

Avoidance becoming

Personality

They said I was a free spirit

I say

I was a gutless procrastinate

How long will life have waited

For me to act? Before

Sighing in disgust

She throws in her hat

Leaving me to consequence

For surely, what we believe in youth, will not burn

Catches up

Paying back ten fold

The only life is the one you make

To be a spectator in your own existence

Is not even a half measure

There is no reward for cowardice

No fulfillment in hiding

Life is a burning bush lighting darkness

It doesn’t burn nearly long enough

We

Are made of nothing without

Ernest endeavor 

Do not put yourself off

Climb the mountain

Conquer the voice telling you not to bother

For soon we are too feeble

Too near that twilight of the soul

It will be late then to lament

Take care never to postpone

Life

And if you must, do not be harsh 

For those who stumble can continue to try

One day it will all be so worth it

Every ache, every struggle

Mighty is not always the healthy mind

But those who refuse to lay down 

And die before their time

AGAIN


Sadness should never be more familiar than peace

Yet some days it is as if

Snow felted the house with only one emotion

And try as you might, the loneliness of your life envelopes

I have never found a remedy for that blue note

Striving to exorcise an unsettled icing of grief

Telling myself this too will pass

Somehow strikes false

For isolation

Looking out at the great cleave of land

Stretching as far as the eye can make out

One can say does not have to be sad

Yet if the majority of days you wake in silence

Wondering how you missed the full house

What happened to cast your dice alone?

Where from your earliest memory you shared space with emptiness

You may look at others with full lives and wonder how 

But it is a language you never learned

The discipline of togetherness or choice to be apart

Decisions made almost before birth

I carry the blood of reluctant loners

Speak the language of the professionally peripheral

None of us learned the art of heaving dinner tables or celebration

We learned to be alone from before we had known

I tried to break the Fates

Only ending further away

Now I live in a country without kin

A city without familiars

I can see myself, each year a little older 

More pinched than before, a flower dried and pressed

Flattened in her self capture

I want, I long, I desire so much 

To be known, to be among

Yet I end back here behind glass, an exhibit of one

Lost for fix, it seems, fate has her fun 

Childless, empied of possibility I feel like everything came undone

And I rolled like tumbleweed

And I gathered speed

Afraid of my life like 

Being made aware you were mad all along and everything you believed and clung on to

Was false

It is hard to be okay many times

That cold fear claims me, whispers, you are alone

The child within quakes to believe

She is still afraid of monsters

But the adult 

She no longer feels that is the worst outcome

For her, the idea of being alone

The last one

And no one notices those who are invisible

Yet still they live

As empty as a corn field

After they burn away the last dried husks 

A scorched Earth, flat and still

Enduring the ache 

Once, twice and again