Poetry 3-31-22

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The Tapeze Artist

My heart swings
in wild arcs over canyons
of the unknown

Hang on, white knuckles
to the slippery bar
and tattered rope
that threatens to drop you
one way or another

Down into the breaking of hearts
unmendable
succulent burn of muscle
and fiber
fighting to hold on
to the imperfect known
and not fall into the
unseeable future.

Have I so little faith
in the universe’s plan?
is my human failing
to fear so strong?
when the only worse case
is just death
in itself only a doorway
to another journey
another dark canyon
another unknown

Cling tightly
white knuckles
until the shaking
trembles unbearable
and you have no other recourse
than to
let go.





VerseDay 3-21-19

Because sometimes…this happens too.

 

 

Untitled

 

But sometimes all is darkness

And the sun that lit one hour

Is extinguished in the next.

When you face your smallness

The insignificant

Replaceable-ness

The meaningless

And least-needed void you are.

The worthless use

Of space and breath

When it doesn’t matter

If you walk the Earth,

Or lie beneath it.

And the false bravado

A flickering candle

put out.

As though

It never burned

At

All.