“The Secret”

Simultaneously we came to the same conclusion; that everlasting dreams all eventually yield to a dying constant.

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“Levers”

All the levers
we try and pull
when understanding one another:
our hands,
raw and sore.

When you leave your words open
to aching implications,
I spin wheels of thread,
tying everything together
to hang it from my ceiling.

“Full Circle”

Listen to the trees–
how they speak while the wind carries their messages out of the forest to bounce off the pavement of suburban driveways and creep into the windows of dilapidated bungalows.

The trees’ words summarize nature’s secrets, including the travelers that have slept under their flourishing canopies, the unbounded dreams of those travelers, their monologues that they spoke out loud in an attempt to settle themselves when the darkness became unbearable and worrisome.
The most precious secret of all is in the precise interrelation of all life that lives in the forest. The trees speak of each symbiosis that promotes life.
Their words are quiet, but assured.

For hundreds of years the trees have built up steam, strength, vigor, and wisdom.

The trees sway in circles in a menacing storm.
They are not scared of tumultuous weather. They are not scared of anything. Embedded in their trunks, their courage mediates them to endure, to sustain, to not cower. They model resilience when during the fall their leaves break off, and in the spring they come back, just as vibrant and healthy.

And you, my dear friend, are like a tree. I know you will come back even though you left me–
abruptly, without explanation.

 

 

 

“Footprints”

Baby, can you stop this blood clot of time that passes so slowly?
Will you hold me till you erode me,
Until you have so much of my heart that I become an endangered species?
Will you pull the shrapnel out of my lungs from these cigarettes?
Will you look for me like the CIA looks for a terrorist?

I want to keep the prism of your perspective and hang it from a necklace.
I want to take your bones and etch them into the walls of my bedroom.
I want to lift you up like a weightless paper cup and fill you up with love until you overflow all down my terrace window.

I skip you like a stone across the maniscus of a winding river, making ripples while you roam–yes that river bottom is your home.

Expose my secrets
Like a tabloid romance.
Hold me like a sacred scripture.
We are made of both atoms and allusions;
Physical fixtures and spoken stories.
If there was a lesson for every atom in the universe we would last lifetimes listening and dissecting the cadaver of meanings.

Your synapses fire like bullet trains full of weary passengers working overtime, heading to their river bottoms where they dwell underneath the passing ripples.

Your shiny teeth reflect your dreams. Your crescent smile reminds me of the forgotten journey of sleep. When I awake, my footprints vanish. My recollection–desolate.

You forage through my mind like a hungry hunter gatherer preparing for the bitter winter, seeking out my scars so you can touch them and call them your own.

When reading your mind is like trying to set free an animal in a cage, I search fiendishly for the key. I found the captive creature while trekking through the forest with my machete, hacking at the undergrowth, slowly advancing. It was dark when I finally found it, and my flashlight was out of batteries. So I lit a match and saw the pallid face of the trapped, hopeless creature. While I couldn’t make out its features I knew I had to help. Because I want to be able to read your mind well. I want to know what you think, what you want to drink, whether I need to blink from staring into your eyes for too long, whether my various impressions are right, or wrong.

I define “Beauty” as mercy of the senses.
I wouldn’t try to put you in a vacuum, for it is life itself which you make more beautiful.

“Pick and Choose Wisely”

Pick and choose wisely.
Your choices are like the voices of a choir singing together to create the melody of your fate.
If wisdom is not the annihilation of love then it must be that very choir singing songs of selflessness from above.
It is a fool who barters his life for money, but the tune of wisdom is the sweetest of honey.
It drips off literally everything:
The world is a sticky mess.

Pick and choose wisely
Your path may all but diverge from the herd but that doesn’t mean your choir won’t be heard.

Pick and choose wisely
The trees and blossoms that thrive on the coast of your mind are landmarks so that the zealous traveler can find his way to his missing essence. His search began with a vulnerable seed that he protected and nurtured until it had enough water to drink.

Pick and choose wisely.
If you act in such a way that you lose your path, just remember to laugh because most of us have at one point been lost and aghast.
The subsequent step may feel like a stretch, it may even cause your stomach to retch. But continue in stride, make your new path wide.

Pick and choose wisely
In one hand is truth
In the other endless communication.
When in reality your soul is a satellite without any capability of signal transmission.

Pick and choose wisely
Every failure is a success in disguise.
Think about that next time you lie
To make more palatable someone else’s mind.

Pick and choose wisely
Maybe your twin flame is across the globe
And you can hear them speak in your temporal lobes
But will you ever meet
If you have doubtful weights on your feet?

Pick and choose wisely
Every story has a lesson, just as every hand has a fist.
If you punch through to the ending, be certain you don’t miss.