his charm is a soft blue moon,
reflecting with the secrets of our sweet stars,
an exquisite work of art,
enchanting happiness, peace-love;

his heart whose center is the spark,
treasure, a poem,
crystalline embellished glitterwords
feelings gently mirrored;


day by day
slowly, surely
into decay

oxygen leaks out
into ether
replaced by toxins
replenished by waste

the existential conundrums
as we hit fan blades
event horizons
in time-space

black holes,
our own egos
coming to pieces
at last

resistance is
ripping atoms
in ecstasy

pushed over the edge
of the universal hotbed
we were birthed in
here –

– we are at Home
in this galaxy of lights
glistening at the
far ends of other

wormholes, warm and
whole, suckling at Mother
Milky Way’s breast and bawling,
“but, God! I’m the one

who tries too hard
because I don’t know how to be anything
but an authentic and sincere
sad son of a bitch”

how beautiful it is
to be cared for
and contented,

nowhere to go
but to grow
up and out
and into this

image file

snow in spring,
it’s a new england thing;
& i wish i could cut&paste
parts of my mind to the page
so i don’t forget my…
my, i am missing a certain sphere
of knowledge!
do i keep playing to my strengths,
or time to fill in the pieces?
math. finances. history.
biology. science. chemistry.
there’s a whole other world out there
i’ve been effectively ignoring
& pulling the wool over my own eyes
about what i know i want.
the ghosts by the river are happy here,
why not i?