daily constitution

Embrace the body's natural longing for a happy norm.
It's the way a step takes place, a collected pacing
that is alluring and energized...
And all resistance against the untimely death of a
leisure lap.

I've sworn an oath to uphold in subjective tones,
but the worthy object is the daily one.
It is the one that mends in cascades of introspection,
and owes itself to itself as pride would without
the taint of sin.

The happy norm is
the utopian sense of bounding unobstructed
and it moves on and on in this sullen world.

Lazy Sunday

We would cuddle often
together in mutual admiration,
each inspired by the other.
Plastered off our desire
and nuzzling comfort to
avoid the day.

Well, what of places to go
and things to see?

We break once or twice
but a cold vacuum stills
the air and harms the void.
No, no, no..we won't leave
this; there's none other.
What a picture of the future,
this present, an idea
I'd put into song.

I hope that we might sing
this song together,
and let it echo through 
the chambers of our hearts.

Swell of burdens

It's peculiar the way that carrying out can usher in:

Burdens.
I've seen a swell of burdens 
carried out the door.
Burdens that fill bags--
   literally fill bags--
beautiful bags that sat at
cross purposes.

I saw a beautiful being
tote those beautiful bags,
swelling with burdens,
out my front door.

Such a sight and such a sensation.

Mirror woes, Mirror waves

I do not believe in the cheap trick and I would not say but that it needs to be said:  far more unsettling than the predictable end is the reflection of us as we live.

The mirror woes and
the mirror waves,
present 
unsettled constitution
in sedentary haze.

Poor boy!
     Poor us for living.
     That he might know
     pain and pain alike,
     and that hate is forgiven.

In every moment a
reflection.
In each a rattled nerve
less sense, scant affection.

Poor life!
     Without meaning nor worthy lament.
     Grant that we might blanche,
     not persist and persist;
     yet from birth defiling only innocence. 

Rest easy always.

Heed the comfy word
friend and
let it settle 
upon your ear.
For calm and 
easy rests the 
mind, blessed
with words of
softest hear.
Never mind
you, life and
struggle,
nor burden 
full and great.
For you have
distractions
mild and aplenty,
to occupy your
fate.

the call to reason

If you seek relief in the transient balm of your age,
you will note the whimsical fury of the present
and the thorough disregard of your effort.

Contrast, then, the stark and fleeting
with the perpetual ease of
the will to forge a new meaning in your time,
in your space;
meaning that will envelope the I in an inimitable way.

The goal of any person: the call to reason.

All-and-none

Count me among your many,
but count me not at all.
By skin, or taste, or refrain
I am but my own.

But by breath, and life and wonder?
Consider me your brother.

I hope to share the space of ours
in peace.
Though I may be quiet and
oft reserved, I am peace.

Never will you watch my movements,
for they shall not hurt you.

Come on Wednesday

Wednesdays are like come-ons.
Tempting while I blush
and engulfing me in the spirit of madness.
     The good spirit (sans spirits),
     a phantom release of pleasure.

Free from the escape,
unencumbered by the echo
of days just passed.

Wednesdays are to me an image
ripe and pure.
The vixens of the mid-week 
impelling my vocabulary,
nay, my gravity!
Altering the force of my axis and 
wielding me with naïve joy.

How sensitive and sarcastic of me to fight
an unearthly invitation.
Like the first cynic, 
shall I lie with the dogs?

Or open free and wide the lung space
I'm apportioned 
and open,
VASTLY OPEN, 
those breathing apparatus;
while owning the best of myself
on the best of my days?

A question to be sure,
but one of obvious resolve.

Mid-May musing

The irony of human suffering along the sliding scale:
you are forced ever outward by centrifugal forces.
The clarity and peace of the origin
an irreducibly tiny part of your once effervescent nature.

Breath now, the musty air of time everlasting.
Taste the staleness of the fragile identity.
And in awareness of yourselves, may you find the
peace denied as you press ever outward.