In reckless adolescence, its mayhem and destructive wake, I was free. I ask you: What is the price of a life well-lived? Adulthood: must it mean confinement?
you are the hymn that draws the grief from my ribs— you are the baptism the pious call “sin.” you pull me under, I drown in your depth— I emerge pristine, reborn, cleansed.
absolute freedom, it used to be the goal— until I learned, having nothing to be tethered to is its own kind of hell, its own kind of jail.
and when you hold my hand, my heart speeds up, but time slows down. your head tilts, laid on my chest, & the turning of the earth: it hiccups, if only for a moment. and your laugh— oh, your laugh, I can only die happy if that sound were my last. this love: it is…
And I think poetry is our remedy, for bottomless is the modern appetite which wants everything, all at once. a poem demands: chew, taste, swallow, savor— slowly. there it is: that fullness, so elusive. a novel in each word; you jump in, expecting a puddle, but fall in, swimming in hidden depths.
Break your life into verse. To run on this path, or to stop; savor, inhale— step, stop— gravel crunch, silence, eyes closed, heart open, holding the Sun’s hands. step again, stop. there is a hidden movement. a leap in every pause. such speed in stillness. such stagnancy in those who cannot stop moving moving moving…
Can you hear me here? Is there anyone there? Am I mute or are the ears of the world deaf? Have you awoken yet to the nature of nature? Have you realized what it means to be impoverished? Have you seen the desolate nature of riches? Have you seen the wealth of the poor? Have…
the former, broken into verse
can you feel the flame dying? the celestial hearth we orbit dims. premonitions of heat death: you inch farther and farther away. our gravity: not enough. this dance, it comes to an end— you are drawn in by another, by a pull far greater. goodbye old friend, goodbye. i pray this star is warm enough for…
can you feel the flame dying? this star of ours, the celestial hearth we orbit, she dims. premonitions of heat death — you inch farther and farther away. our gravity is not enough. this dance comes to an end— you are drawn in by another, a gravity far greater than mine. goodbye old friend, goodbye. …
anything not fed eats itself: body, mind, heart.
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THE CLOSET MYSTIC 