springing

so much of joy is
hidden in corners and crevices,
shadowed, obscured by the
light of the mirror,
and bruised by a slight brush of
the fingers.

withheld

only now can i see the things i've missed
and every time i read again will i remember what has passed
and what is there but there to know
of world and man and lastly self?

touch the sky

diamonds sing something fruitful brings
sun shining gleam across the chariot race's dented rim;
without itself it quiets down and settles in some
unknown town
but now it crows its mighty wind jostles the
assorted wigs and tablecloths aside the
dusty curbed street miles' line

man's modern interjects his
empty nest a foreign debt;
his crowded alley holds the weight of all
the world's gone wistful dead

his bird has flown, her eyes ablaze
is upside forth and backward gaze.
the anchor huddled her callous wrists?
as she tears away, she tears from his.

the arms they bore held open no more,
but for sake of sake, the ground's embrace:
and for all the doubt we live within
the disappointment leaves a taste

forget me now, and forever be it so
that you may have some outstretched hand
a tongue's tip wrapped around the
sorry mix of dull little letters that
scrape our sounds and make a name.

free me from your memories
of times impressed upon you deep
to have some recollection of
the thoughts you have of me.

release me from your
monstrous gaze, i beg of you to let it be;
the flight of love decays of days
and harmony begs of you and me

madness

of some madness I
to some degree
and to say that I am mad
is to say that you agree
when is it that you recognize some
maddening mess within me?
perhaps it borne as you asked yourself
am I mad, or isn't he?

proven

remember, my sons, when the world turns black,
the faces of those who have looked upon the triumph of a
fallacy gone flat. and
when to scoff at proposals
of such a motion
would not betray such subtle notions,
beware, beware:
the lofty pride of presumptuous fools will
bring about the rushing ground
as kingdoms crumble their own weight
beneath the air they once surround

astound

i cannot abide some
trembling throat guttering
glimpses of some things unknown
in opted ignorance rises chorus of a temple set to worship
airs of its salty breath reminiscing on some
old hypocrisy, or some obvious insecurity:
all things simple, sincere, and unsurprising,
almost upsetting in all
of its
unawares
and urgent uprisings.

but then i choke, a
sense of reaching out beyond my
place to hold,
in peaceful relation with my
spirit caste;
incapable of letting go.

perhaps it is so much our similarity
that tears us from our truest sense of
shared humanity as dearest friends,
but for some joy that never seems to see itself
in this sordid competition that will never cease to end