superstition

you say the earth is my mother;

you remind me that she was there

to make me a mother, to make me

strong. i was a wolf once, and will

be again. many wolves come from me;

this is our tribe. inside, we are great

enough to hold a universe of paradox:

infinite paradigms, parallel lines

running alongside but never touching.

that’s what the circles are for.

we crawl in and out of this pack

design, through the mandala canal,

straight into the mind of god.

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while waiting for your phone call

as soon as you leave

i feel it:

 

the immense sadness,

the emptiness, the

 

alone-ness.

 

it makes me wonder

why i’m here; what my

 

purpose is

outside of you;

 

outside of

bringing your life into

 

being.

 

this house, this rent,

this uneaten food in the

refrigerator.

 

as soon as i’m alone,

every thing is vast and open

 

and possible

again;

 

beautifully vacant.

 

it makes me think

and want to create

 

and fill up the spaces

with music and dance and

 

paint.

 

this piano, these poems,

this uncooked

recipe.

 

how can something be

so delicious and so alone—

 

electric in one moment,

and dead the next?

 

it’s a long, long road,

up through this fissure

 

into the dark hollow of

spine.

 

it’s the only way

to move and be moved;

 

it’s the only

way—up, up—

 

and it’s

mine.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

every last thing

i don’t know why i looked back

at that possum in the road.

the body looked whole, so it

wasn’t for the gruesome factor.

night creatures intrigue me.

but what i saw was a wide open

mouth, bright red and stretched—

almost inside out—as if caught mid-

shriek. i’ve never seen a mouth like

that; it didn’t belong in the sun: it took

over its body like it was fighting to

hold on to this life with its tiny jaws,

with every last thing it had.

november

i am a sad song

 

but at least i

am singing.

 

i have fallen for my

own despair;

 

but i hate the refrain,

i despise the ending.

 

i miss the joy bursts of chorus:

were they ever really there?

 

…. sailing away like cursive

into the sky….

 

i go to another place

but the mirror brings me back;

 

the looking glass

in reverse.

 

do these words mean

anything to you?

 

i am alone.

 

reflected behind me, an

empty room;

 

within me, a deep

loneliness and a tiny

 

hope.

 

i have nothing to give;

i have every thing to

 

give but no one who

wants it.

 

i am forgetting how to love.