the consequences of sad

what shit is this when the warm water
is death cold despite the steaming heat
and one small, grey cloud
covers the entire blue sky
as though one lived entirely
on the verdent green edge
of a deep and black chasm…
such a simple thing to tip
such a small thing to trip
to lean back into a welcome fog
could take the razor to shave
but leave it with a shelf-full
of why bothers and who cares
don’t want to move/eat/dress
just sit and stare and fall
these are the stupid chains
these are the lead weights
these, the consequences of sad
that leaves the wires taut
and the sound so out of tune
one would scream
if one could muster the will

Act II, scene iii

Act II, scene iii – you fucked those lines up;
you left your peers to clean your mess
while stumbling backstage with no words
wanting to run back out and fix it all,
but you can’t, the curtain doesn’t work that way;
so you wait and you worry and you regret until…

Act II, scene iv – you pick up the pieces
and walk back out and act like it never happened
then you go home and hope the critics missed it;
maybe next time it will be perfect.


to write
is to cast different bait
into the same unstocked pond
again and again and again and again
with hopes to pull up some new thing
some great unknown monstrous beast
to fight and struggle upon one’s shore

and kill it

that it may be mounted on the wall
for all to see with awe and admiration
at the prowess of the great hunter
whose trophies hide an impotent heart

a shadow cast

i wear my forebears on my sleeve
as a known,
as an unknown history
i would run toward,
but it left
or it was never there,
it depends on where you look.

i am evidence of survival,
best not to take that lightly;
were they the fittest?
were they the luckiest?
maybe not…but I’m here,
I’m now…
a shadow cast
by the light of the past
stretching off to a fine line.