Lemonade and Scorched Earth

some solid mass
formed of the ethereal
that had coalesced
into a man

drunken on power
inebriate of beauty
addiction follows
through the doors of vice

and still sanity
enamored of
the world of forms and emptiness
labored for a voice

but watching this
I took no part
just drinking lemonade
and dreaming of scorched earth

The Height of Entropy

The essence of a man
distilled in honesty
awareness disarming
thought of height
The essence of a man
described in absentia
to yield unchanged
unchained to cerebian fear.

Tread lightly man
you were the height of distance
between particles of entropy
and whispers in the empty ears
of the Phenomenal Woman
Primeval Witness
Distortion of Phenomena
Awakening
and Birth.

Temperance

There is still some sunset left;
a sliver of undarkend sky.
Some glimmer of hope
that is, perhaps, a reminder
the sun will return.
(And, perhaps crisp the skin
and bleach the bones of the Earth.)

Especially here among the Rockies
where day and night are so precisely separated
and the seasons move ahead in jerks of temperature
there is some tendency to take sides
on this unending cycle beyond our control.

I think perhaps the ghost of temperance
now looks over my shoulder speaking
something between a whisper and a shout
looking for the ally I cannot be.

I am a product of the human race,
prone to my extremes of thought
and rash action, but I can strive.

The strangest things are inherited.

I wonder if time knows of decay or if,
it being the constant by which we reckon our lives,
it is eternity like the stars, fixed in their places
on the crystalline sphere far away we can see
but never comprehend.

I looked at myself in the mirror today and realized that
even if he is a conservative and cannot understand
how I want to live my life, or what I do when I'm alone.
Nor can he comprehend my rebellious streak
(the one that goes against society, not particulars,
he could never understand particulars)
or my propensity for intellectualism
(an -ism among others he chooses not to subscribe to).

But, even with all these differences, today I realized I looked like him.
I walked with my toothbrush to the front door to close it
after the dogs had come in, and when I returned
to the bathroom mirror, I held my toothbrush
the same way he did in his mouth, I remember.
The strangest things are inherited.

I don't think he would understand this, either.

Lightest Snowfall

There is part of your memory now mixed in
with the lightest snowfall I have ever seen.
Driving slowly past your street listening to music
(not your favorite,
but I could never find any you didn't like.)
and wondering if everything that happened has blame to lay
at my feet or at yours.  I like to think we all break our own hearts.

If, if, if, if, if,
but the past changes everything.
Even when the power of your deep eyes over me,
your stories of things I never wanted to go through,
the mixxed up half truthes that fluttered around my head
in a time when I'd rather take a few shots of anything
then think too long on where I'd got to.

How can these singular snowflakes evoke
memories of us when we were a Summer love?
Everything I see is conected.

No One Else Knows

nothing music ever said
or wind blew in the trees
made me feel like this
not cold, precisely, no
definitely not alone

no one else knows
no one else knows
no one else knows

the devil is in the constants
things that will not disappear
after they've been ignored
all these years

no one else knows
no one else knows
no one else knows

and so we disappear
just an ending
with all the same disgrace
we've been carrying for days

no one else knows
no one else knows
no one else knows

On Grace

Grace is the Experience of Beauty
to share with Existence its providence
But, something terrible must arise
like Angles too beautiful for the mind.
Terror begins here that loss might
be the loss of this Grace.

If stars do speak in this dimension,
thundering voices, to we two alone
how could anything of this beauty,
solace, kind not open a thousand times
to Gates of Horn like Prophets?

Brief the transformation, atoms of time
to a change of being in Grace.
I brave the Angels of Beauty now
to unlock their secrets
where we may be, where we may be.