Too Far In

Planted in the heart of the question,

Tendrils whipping out like flames—

Why raise a child to be feral

When you’re already tamed?

Question marks are wounds pressed deeper

Incantations summoning nothing,

Or maybe a chiming thought

If you’re lucky, if it works, the paper goes unpaved

A hand without fingers or a palm,

The unearthliness, the vulnerability of wrists

A look-what-you-made-me-do ilk of bitterness

There’s a difference between going with the flow

And taking the hits

You poise yourself like a livelihood

That those veils are for stamped beauty,

Not the skittering reality that you need a hiding place—

Dashing away the moment you learn life isn’t a race

Only so much you can put in one poem,

An agglomeration of reasonings, of causes

That one hopes lack consequence

What did we do it for? When, why, how?

History needs more structure,

Why go in chronological order

When you have the alphabet?

Why put you before me

When I am the one writing?

If you build the world off a stack of

Assumptions, does the originality vanish

Under rounds of alter(c)ations and changes,

Or is it there forever, waiting for its return?

Are we stuck in an infinite state

Are we too young or are we too late

dust cover shell

dust cover shell

take cover!

yank my arm & shiver with delight; be my light?

shine so bright

it hurts

if everyone here was asked

to choose between me and

you, they’d choose me

wipe a tear

live in fear

memories under the bed

broken doorframe where i hit my head

sky blue sky blue

everyone is out except for y-o-u—

hearts on a page

lazy love you

dove with twisted wing

flower that blooms underwater

a delicate rose

naturally unnatural pose

1964

oil on canvas