Wounded and Extraordinary

All of us are wounded and extraordinary –
carried to our fates
as if by serviceable beasts  

who mostly can be counted on to tend us:
conscientious porters sweeping, turning on
the lights, generally putting things to rights.

Unsuspecting days and unexamined nights

become our fare until, perhaps responding
to some small involuntary dare,

we disappear – no longer
here or there: replaced by space.
It isn’t terrible that we don’t leave a trace.









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I Took a Dive Last Night

I took a dive last night

with the intent to decode sleep –
and hadn’t gotten deep before

two emanations rose to greet me –
evidently glad that something
from the waking world had come

to enter theirs – awake.
I was so delighted I began
to quake and turn into

an emanation too,
which they dismembered.
I wonder how I’ll be remembered.







.

Promiscuous as Air

 

Some think it obeys strict laws –

but happiness doesn't care.

Unhooked to any cause,

it’s as promiscuous as air.

.

Hell

Hell is full

of reasonable
conversation.

Plausible
persuasion.

Earnest
arguments
that matter.

Chatter.










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In a Plume of Evening Blue

In a plume

of evening blue,
three masks escaped,
last night, from you.

Divining other purposes,
they crept adeptly,
while you slept,
off your thin surfaces.

Entwining as they
billowed from your
pillowed head, they
hoped for a baroque

epiphany beyond
what they could
muster up on top
of you in bed.

Awake, you feel
more naked.
It’s harder
now to fake it.







.

Looks Like My Love For You

It sprouted out of me today –

looks like my love for you.

Perhaps it came to me to say

that I made that up, too.












.

Plus I Have to Pee

They sit there

night and day.
They want
a yea or nay.

I don’t know
what to say.
I wish they’d
go away.










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