Mind Says What You Know

Mind says of the body
You cannot leave me alone with this creature;

I’m caught in the middle
Of the two at war;
I am wasted by their rage.

The light is less
What I am,
Where I am,
But how I am
To live
With and through
This natural war on reason
With you and everybody else.


Lon Chaney

You knew enough to
Keep it up:

That moonlit agony
From the night of the soul
Masking your face—

You gave out
Your goddamned life for show;

Put a crack in the heart,
Put a fire in the spirit,
Of those who watched,
Of those watching—made time and tense no matter.

Laughter and tears and
The eternity of print,
A tightrope beyond darkness but a breath away.

An artist,
But what He/She
And though it’s good
For a few laughs,
It hurts like hell
To be nothing,
Doesn’t it?

Way under the moon
Of gravity-bitten and conscious-clawed pain,
Is naked wisdom masked by shining laughter,

Just like you.


Rain All Day


By the time you’ve realized time,
It’s time to die.
Nature releases the body to Death
While the essential you claims it yours, rejecting that disintegration.
So conflict.
So life.
Come others, come the same.
Cen-tur-ies of this.


To gut and show candidly
The underbelly of life
Is not a crime.
But we reject the message,
We kill those messengers,
Artists with hands caked in the blood of centuries,
Artists with your life in their eyes.


No more a poet than a moth reeling from darkness,
I dream a simple sunset
On some mountain man is always climbing.
It’s good to see that mountain; it’s better, naturally, to destroy the dream.


The voice of wisdom, no matter the language, no matter the time, speaks the same . . .
Euripides, Molière, Celine, Jeffers—
I closed old books, not a question for wisdom but one for myself:
With all we are, the little nothing I can know,
To ask in the light:
Death, are you all I’ll ever truly know?