comfort

comfort is not
what it appears
a murderer
dressed as a teddy bear
a mother
who eats her young
the placard that hangs
on this moment
does not point
to this moment
but to the next
or the preceding one
a fantasy reality
where confidence men
are trusted
for their warm hands
with their sure grip
that pull you back
from the precipice
without letting on
who led you there

not Al Pacino

not Al Pacino

I was sitting in the coffee shop
when he walked in, I swear he did
Al Pacino, in Cleveland for a film shoot
or maybe it was the Christ
holy light of each of our hearts
or my father, departed and all, as he is
returning to tell me
to complain to the Honda dealership
for the extravagant amount they charged
for an inspection that brought up nothing
nothing but my own lack of guile
the trusting naivete
Dad had a hard time
accepting
in me

assuredly, it was not Al Pacino
it was the handsome, scruffy Balkan guy
who comes here for espresso
but in him, perhaps
a latent everyday savior
or a doting father
the kind of man you might find at Starbucks
playing dominoes with his friends
proudly showing off his little boy
the kid, a tad shy and a bit soft-headed
with a grand, budding heart
that not Al Pacino
will not appreciate
for years to come

am I dying?

am I dying? I wonder
have I slowly been approaching
the end of my contract with karma
in a majestic car wreck trajectory,
the earth element dissolving into the water principle
my strength, gradually dissipating

this feeling of falling
this sensation of withdrawing
perhaps the Tibetan Book of the Dead
has my number, Britney Spears singing
"Toxic", in the background

I am still aboveground, yes
but what's to say
this month, this next moment
will not be my time?

all things must pass
oh, preach it, brother George
but I don't want to know
the extent to which this goes
how this soul dissolves
into bliss, what is bliss?
when my line of sight is contracting
self-certainty lacking
so slick, I once thought myself
with every bullet I managed to dodge
never knowing they would all be waiting
at the moment of my most prideful misstep
my most profound realization

dire bouquet

dire bouquet
midnight foray
feeling the hunger to disappear
into the woods to lose us

we have built wisdom into the system
prosthesis reaches to dream
binds us and releases us upstream
to merge into absolute sky

jettison medicine into the sea
breath for life, death for free

we have broken with the past
still, our ancestors hold us
to rituals meant to embolden
the DNA they have bestowed
to push toward prize
to realize, we must believe
we have only conceived this life
we have only this life
to give to receive
received only
to give

shadow blinds

staring at the shadows
of near-bare branches
waving in the wind
cast on my bedroom blinds
by the parking lot lights
I wish to die this way
watching you, somewhere
on the edge of sleep
not wishing to go there
just yet

the diligent one

don't assume
the approaching night
of dust and boredom
is the herald of a lesser merchant
come to sell you
purgatory on earth

believe that the ache
with which you face
the meat of hunger
is the ache meant for you

and, yeah, the sultans
of unimaginable inner kingdoms
do not think your life a waste
nor your efforts to unite
the beating cells of broken hearts
venting hate on one another

you only have this moment
to grasp the lightness of death
and it will never return
until the moment that follows
time after time after time again

nothing to prove
everything to lose
and that is where you have them

-- your enemies march to the beat
of the lead clock, housed in the lead sun
radiating sickness and wealth with no conscience

but your forgiveness will eat their innards
vulture of compassion
turn them to beg for some small particle of grace
turn them to honest contrition