I write, but….

I write but
Not compelled
Not awoken
Startled by the force
To feverishly pen
What flows
What bursts forward
To be read
I do not wake
The words caught
Under breathe
Recited like a
Newly wrought prayer
Its power still new
Still raw
Still strong in its conviction
To be heard…

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the past has passed

i know you search me with your eyes

and wonder why my love waxes and wanes

why i accept your love with a haunted wounded wavering

…the past has passed and the scars have all but healed…

…the past has passed and its lessons learned…

…the past has passed and all those who did not stay are not missed…

and yet i and my soul remain in the clutches of its grasp….

fix this

i can’t fix this

something has given away at the seams

an eyeless needle

is all i possess

so come and sew me up

stitched through and through with scars

but patched up with your kisses

 i will threaten

to fall to pieces

all you need to do

is pull the right string

i await to be entangled

in the chaotic confines

of our harmonious mess

there is nothing better than that

which makes me say nothing but yes…

The Charioteer

This was written during my trip to Athens, Greece with the “Charioteer of Delphi” in mind.

The Charioteer of Delphi

How does he stand still
with his horses long run
ripped of his reins
as they have seethed forward
frothing at the mouth.


What hand did they not heed
what stone have they thundered past
leaving dust…that primordial dust
that gathers between his coppery green
eyes that stare off into nothing
while his feet stay molded
exquisitely waiting
for the nerves within them
to pounce
and let him flee
what stone
has set him
frozen.

the now

looking towards the Future

only takes you so far

when you are waiting

for the Now to appear.

and though all that is optimistic

claims to follow Yet

and all that has gone

has been washed over with

Yesterday’s rosy brush

the Truth is:

Now with its

imperfections

and awkwardness

is what i impatiently

crave.