the eyelid of time
doesn't even blink for us

yet we scurry around
trying to breathe validity
into our moments

casually ignoring the fact
that we are only
a speck of dust
on a hair
in the nostril

of eternity...

for a sneeze

Violet Echoes

as violet echoes
tint the morning dew
your memory
melts across my arms...
the warmth of our togetherness
did not follow your leaving

softly, I sigh
and let this moment
wrap around
the essence that was you


between the moon and yesterday
is a curve of hollowness
where I like to sit

wrapped in my hand-knitted memories
I scoop warm, buttery echoes
out of their thin shells
chew them slowly

and wait
for the sky to fall

Ice Melting

The roof's ice-layered crust
is dripping...plink plop, plink plop.
Free-falling drops
descend through space;
their individuality exists
for one encapsulated beat
each splashes into anonymity,
swallowed by a pool
that holds the Essence-of-the-All.

Perhaps our lives
are but a brief awakening
from frozen sleep...
a chance to dance
for just an instant.

Then we pool
our essence
in the All.

Dark Desires

A drop of light
from an angel's halo
fell to earth, floated down
a deep core of velvety darkness.

Warmed by the heartbeat of time,
it began to churn and bubble,
blending the essence of desire
with the creamy texture
of a freshly poured dawn.

Then, bursting with energy,
it billowed up; the earth trembled
and chocolate spewed forth like lava,
layering its thick, silky nectar
across the tongues
of complacent multitudes.

It awakened their senses,
leading them up new heights
of awareness;
it trickled into pockets of loneliness
and spelled "friendship"
in a universal language.

Worries wafted away
on a pillowy sigh
as people understood, for the first time,
the meaning of pure bliss.

Cracking Up

Morning crawled sideways
off the clock
and fell to the floor.

Hours popped open
like dried seedpods; minutes
clacked and rolled across
the layers of my mind.

Somewhere, life is being painted
in shades of sea and sky,
lovers are swimming
on waves of emotion
and baby birds
are learning to fly.

But here I sit, on splintered
edges of time, trying
to glue myself
back together again.

The Folding

How arrogant they are;
striding in small god-steps
across the delicate membrane
of their planet.

How casually they expel
the poisonous sweat of their endeavors,
ignoring the gasps as ecosystems
shrivel and die.

While greed incubates in boardrooms,
they bask in reflected glories,
polishing their reflections
in the mirror of time.

On the other side of the glass,
sighs of resignation;
another experiment gone awry. . .

One by one,
the stars blink out;
the flow of existence condenses
into a single particle of dust.

And the universe folds back into itself.

Stop, thief!

The job is underway;
I turn my back for a moment
and Day takes off -- racing
down the road,
my only set of blueprints
under his arm.

I stare helplessly
as he speeds across the hours,
heading for the bend of twilight.

Slumped against the scaffold
of my wobbly poem,
I toss my hardhat aside
and spit in the dust.

These days --
you just can't find reliable help.

Flag poem

by accident or design
humanity's flag
flutters on this planetary mound;
a wave of glorious defiance,
of its insignificance.

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