V Day

Tomorrow I will not awaken again

into this noxious fog of rot and gangrene

I do not seek an amicable parting

There is no win win

and winning holds no appeal

Today is a day for severing the black and decaying

for loosing the dead limb from the healthy body

for settling up and moving on

 

So in a clearing beneath the smoldering sky

amid the dry August leaves

I will light it on fire

and watch it return to nothing

I will stay there by the coals

until the cold blessed rain

dilutes the remains

and delivers the ashes

back into the sweet earth

where all things

are reborn

 

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how doubt acts

 

 

crouching in full regalia

he awaits the crisis of indecision

and in the moment clarity eludes,

saunters out to occupy center stage

rolling spectacles in his ancient hands

head down, brow furrowed

he paces rhythmically

carefully choosing the most brilliant and most hateful words

to pose insidious rhetorical rhymes

he perfectly impersonates the wizard or a magical professor

a sage friend of time-steeped knowledge

the father, the patriarch, God

he solemnly addresses the audience

sad but true, he tells us all

in so many words

feigning regret, in a stage whisper

he tells me all that I am not,

and all that I can never be

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Creep

stealthy minion of

fear

father of death

doubt tip toes in

squatting in wait

when I’m almost asleep

or almost awake

camping out

in dark corners

I forgot to sweep

 

not invited

but allowed

a morbid

reliable roommate

it festers

out of sunlight’s reach

it poisons housekeeping

fucks the housekeeper

 

it whispers

like a shrewd advisor

probably not

it snickers

highly unlikely

it smirks

I know you best

 

I can hardly notice

how it ripens

and rots

becomes embedded

and rewrites the code

turns moldy and fetid

it sets the table

for the father

together

we host

winning anyway

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death prevails

it always wins

I will not resist

 

the deepest truth

whispers

giddily

quality over quantity

while perfectly organizing

the whole

universe

of meaning

 

then I’ll arrange moments and days

that crave the fullness of me

becoming consumed with work

engrossed in service

and lost

in joy

so that death cannot hold my gaze

or drive me around

so that I will arrive at that meeting place

surprised and exhausted

and my astonishment will be but the tiniest

appeasement

an amuse-bouche

for the victor

 

this is the way

love wins

how death’s sweet baby

fear

will come undone

and lose

while winning