Poems

Growing Pains

I had to learn
That what is …right…
Could be what I feel.

Who else could teach me that?

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Poems

August Kindling

Though nothing concerns me
Too much,
Everything stays on my mind.

Thoughts
That would look like the shooting star
Flit their stream behind my eyes.
Like autumnal nights,
I enjoy that show—

But what choice?
—They’re simply there,
Speaking to me
In a language like fire:

The mind
Is relentless,
Until it is not.
Until it burns you out.

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Poems

Beauty That Breaks

Beauty
That
Breaks,

The Sun
Goes down
On you, too.

In cold time,
The marrow
Gripped,
The heart’s storied bounty
Wrenched without ceremony,
And the soul’s triumph behind a heavenly body
Plunged from known existence.
(We know this)
But beauty has power
Like a godhead;
Breaks the self,
Fractures wit,
Tricks the mind by a tragic play of hunger laden dreams.

Thoughts build their aegis
Against the radiance
In a room
Under solemn dominion.
“In cold time,
Something else entirely,”
Screams an inner voice down the deep hollows.

In a hungry room of beaten beasts,
Beauty
That
Breaks,
You’re no home for rapacious hearts.
Where high tragic thoughts sired by the seeing mind
Defend their maker,
Beauty
That
Breaks,
I don’t fight, I don’t speak, I don’t move
Even when you move me.

Beauty
That
Breaks,
Love is the shield,
Kept me
From your reach.

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Poems

Put Down The Lotus

Took for teachers
Mounds of stolid dust;

Crying to be born,
They came in my idleness,
Hunting soul, leaving ideas.

I cracked their spines;
The brain vault opened,
The boy folded in;

Practiced power of self-control
Extinguished tears:
Passion tranquilized.

Dreamt mountains
I could feel without dreaming
From under this roof;

Learned the earth
Drunk with blood
As you with your wine,
Laughing in the sunlight:

Yes you’ve been in love,
Yes you’ve been in doubt:
Only thoughts, now.

Those burning, screaming fire,
They are burned again;
Walk, stumble, run into flame:
What are they?

Took for teachers
Mounds of stolid dust;
Lessons in feeling, they couldn’t teach me.

Drunk in the sun
With love and dreamt mountains.
Beauty,
Power,
Soul and ideas
Flowered the brain vault
With phantom peace:

Hey, put down the lotus;
Wake up.

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Poems

Why Do You Care What They Did?

Legend is even less than us.
Down by the water, an old voice arrests you, seems to say Here, now.
And it’s so simple, the stream, its swift music,
Steady and sweeping off your thoughts to someplace deeper.
To a lake of fire for your molten mind.

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