Empowerment of Non-Choosing

Fascinated by anyone who
did not choose anything about their birth
which so far, is everyone I have ever met. 
In which case, anyone as helpless.
Oddly enough, in this regard, anyone as helpful!
Because in this way, everyone shares the same buoyancy.
-- a weathered resilience to overcome.

Seduction

I want to stay. There is so much

light. You are there. I

am gone now. I feel the

dark ocean. Why

are we running? How high

is that wall? I hear

laughter. Do you

know what this is? Who does

the following? Energy chases

the mysterious. Seduce

the imagination. Into madness,

where dreams save. What if

seduction is not all

it appears to be? Luring

eyes stoke the fire. How

love burns for desire.

Finding Irresistible

Follow.

Past delusion,

Further than delight.

It is there; all the same, and ever-changing.

Hold onto it purposefully,

so you feel it slip away.

sense it drift astray…

It will lead, you will guide.

Both are grappling

To survive.

Sharper and Duller

I would not understand

how from trapped within a tornado

I stayed straight as a pencil

my sharp pointed led feet

spinning hastily on its eye

(though I doubt the prick was felt by anything)

my palms met above my shoulders

arms covering my ears from whirling cries and curses

my dull eraser head somehow remembered

how I could barley lift

an eye open to witness

such a twisted demolition

collecting all too familiar nouns

giving them flight only to throw

down their spirit

I would not understand

how scribbling the disaster

spared me from destruction

somehow leaving me

sharper and duller

A BLÜTHNER and the Fingers that Lay it Down

In the event anyone has walked on water, 
it would have been during a Chopin concerto.

A Blüthner taken for the seas,

and the fingers that lay it down

taken for a symphonic masters of waves. 

Amid black and ivory tides

melodies distinguish their fine-tune

by the fingers that lay it down.

Grasshoppers jump the bouncing keys,

pulling the strings of a pianoforte.

A bead of salt water rolled along the face

of the fingers that lay it all down,

filling the air so dense with romance,

I may have confused the sweat for a tear

in the Blüthner’s reflection

of hands twice over keyboards.

Eighty-eight tickles travelled the room

plinking about on pointed toes,

leaving a trail of smiles sitting upright

by the grand fingers that lay it down.

What Tames a Lion

Thunder cracks thick humid air

kicks an ear drum

and moves in my chest

like a lion’s roar.

Before bolts of light split trees

the skies turn jade,

sitting so still not even a blade of grass bends

under the quivering spines of prey.

As the lion waits to pounce,

high heat crashes!

slapping fields with sonic snarls,

drowning any animal’s cry;

whipping the lion’s rumble

until muted and tamed.

Fuel for a Fire

where wind passes through a hollow

a ghost carries

aired tan bones

like a pile of kindling

fuel for a fire

lit amongst the fog

of a grey man floating

without borders

where stones meet stones

a heart carries

white bones covered in flesh

like a pile of pride

fuel for a fire

lit amongst the wreckage

of red covered fields

with borders

where just before soaring
a soul carries

timed bones

like a pile of truth

fuel for a fire

lit amongst the passing breath

of gratitude