In the bright sun of day
I am shadow
A mask without a face
A smile without a reason
Laughter without glee
A sign of existence
Without presence
So I breathe
Bury my hand
In the hot sand
Shout out the pain
Of heat and grief
And emptiness
Give voice
To the being
Which once cast
The shadow
Until the voice
Becomes being
A vessel
For the light
The pain and grief
And emptiness
Become the shadow
And I can’t say
where it began
or where it ends
or if it ever will
It drives you to
the edge of mad
(where you found me)
but with your ever
growing faith
it’s clear
Life is not so
rational
as you would like
Discontinuous
In fact
Time sometimes goes
from front to back
while space folds in
upon itself
and plops you down
in the middle of
you know not
what
Yet still you stand
amidst the fray
(such dark embrace)
to write these words
you promised me
Love is not so
rational
as you would like
But its beauty
drives you still
I scramble up an ebony mound
To find a landscape of ebony mounds
Growing to distant mountains
All of the same ebony skin
“At least,” I think, out loud
Into the air so dry
It swallows up the words
Right off my tongue
“the falling sun seems less
Like a fire
On a cast-iron skillet.”
With every
Repetition
“Boys will be boys”
They say
All around
The world
Meaning
Simply
Girls are made
To be had
Events
Connections
Love, loss
Attainment, failure
Lessons, places, people
Glories and gaffes and grace
Everything that ever happened
To get me here
Where I’m standing
In this moment now
On the path
To who I’ll be
If nothing comes
Find a prompt
(Photographs usually work.)
Start again
Breathe
Quiet mind
Write what comes
Don’t argue with the words
It’s OK to not like what they say
Write them anyway
It’s OK to not have the right words
Write down the wrong words
The right ones can be found later
Wait or pause whenever it feels
Like the words aren’t coming… yet
Or the meaning isn’t right… yet
And the right way isn’t present… yet
Quiet mind
Breathe
Take the time
To let them come
To let them flow
When they flow
Don’t stop
Stop, when it feels OK to stop
Stop, when the words feel true
If the words feel true
They are authentic
Whether or not they seem beautiful
Whether or not they seem important
Whether or not they seem angry
Whether or not they seem loving
Whether or not they seem … whatever
This is the hard part
Whether or not they hurt a little to read
Or hurt a lot
It seems, though
Authentic words are never hurtful
Nor bitter
Nor righteous
There is no deceit in them
Nor guile
The ego is not authentic
Not all words which come
Need to be shared
Even authentic ones
Some words were only ever intended
To speak truly to a readership of one
But, consider sharing them anyway
The word could use a little more
Authenticity
Outside
The first layer
Pix to Words 