Blind I wait against my will
For the fury to build
Unleashing silent impenitence and
Over-compensatory sycophancy
Waiting for the blood to thin,
The vessels to expand, or perhaps
Contract to emend
This current course-
Pain coursing as vascular regret or disillusionment.
Oh, the worlds which in
I’ve dwelled, passing again
Through mist by mist
Faces erupting, faces dim
I must, I muster, I am
Fumbling graceless
On some twist of sin
And tasteless chaos
Where I’ve been reduced
Now incoherent echoes
Of meaningless words
Lost consonants
And low vows.
I wait for the rain
Which falls in me
To soak the solid
Am I insane?
Is insanity
The absence of hollow
Or the ability to see?
Can life possess
Or in truth be
An isolation tank?
I sank into sensory deprivation-
It sank back into me,
And still I’m tumbling
In the great descent.
It’s only alchemy
These combinations firing
Inside of me
This volatile language
My body reads
And obeys.
Data swimming
In a chemical stream
Informing every iota,
Every atom in me,
What I am to feel;
Who I am to be-
But I resist, I persevere:
I will not fear my basic chemistry.
Arrested in step
At the sudden lightness
Of curtains caressed
By an unexpected breeze
In the midst of an otherwise stifling heat-
Dancing in waves,
Touching my face,
Friction giving way
To cool… to calm…
To quiet relief as comfort.
Beauty hiding in the whispers
Wrinkling the curtains.
An unexcavated strength,
Veins extracting their toll,
Forms in the deepest, darkest holes,
The abandoned mines of broken-down souls
Possessed by the weakest parts of the whole-
Strength that screams
With foamy lips never dry
At unseen ghosts in black skies,
Weeping for the strangers hobbling by,
Dreaming of consciousness as a closing eye-
Strength still, that looks,
And in looking, sees
All that is and should not be,
The kind of madness compelling, “Flee!”
And all perceived chants agreement-
And in the sweat, the sorrow, and the mud,
The hunger, the loss, the burn of chains,
In thirst, in isolation, in condemnation
The strength tarries-
The soul remains.
I remember you
Walking in slowly like fingertips
Transversing a weeping piano
Notes as quiet drops slowing,
Collecting on the pane
That holds us at bay.
I heard you
Humming a doleful dirge
Between the bars
That stir our hearts
To refrain, to merriment, to holiday-
Your solemnity undergirding
The beauty of your sway.
These grinding bones
Have ground me down
Weighted still,
Full and round,
With future endeavors.
Please forgive
These heavy days,
Moping, groping,
To find my way
Back to passionate.
It doesn’t matter-
My changing positions
Because You are the God
Of every transition,
And even in this twisted state,
I am still Yours.
I don’t ask for help
because there’s nothing wrong;
It’s these damned unavoidable days-
Broken in the most alienating ways
And how I crave sunlight,
cash in hand, and the
sounds of streetcars and city cabanas
advertising syrupy cocktails-
Concoctions to dull our time
and senses.
I don’t mention it,
because it can’t be helped,
and it doesn’t help to mention.
My intentions are to return,
to work, to folks, to the higher call,
but these stalled days
feel like fingertips slipping
off the edge of the precipice,
And the silent falling
through some fathomless abyss
Because every surface is deep.
Plumbing the depths,
my casual breaststroke,
dredges infinite silt to pan,
to rub between hands
unconsciously familiar with the task.
Each granule forks in
endless serpentine directions-
These introspections are too numerous,
so I ask for leave-
Sunlight, and
some cash in hand,
For temporary, shallow relief.
I’ve walked these streets
Since my bare childlike feet
Stumbled unknowingly
Over glass and stone
So desperately alone
In my blood and my bones
Within throngs of hardened faces.
I still remember these spaces,
Hungry and graceless,
Exploring, hoping to discover-
To unearth, to expose, or uncover
Some version of safe, or love, or
Home.
Home- that secret fantasy repeating
In all the orphans’ tiny beating
Hearts- ever keeping
The fire kindled, the native
But long forgotten language
Like the memory of a pledge
Not yet redeemed,
But always blooming unseen
In the hidden depths of dreams,
And hopes fallen as wilted petals,
Blackened by the cold metals
Of bustling souls and pedestals
And ashes.
I looked up but once, I know,
There in the window, a glow
Of candles, and smoldering souls
Sharing some spark of smile,
Of tender warmth, and I, beguiled,
Lost the hard miles,
The frostbite, the feet that bled,
The serpentine paths that led
Through frigid humanity- instead
I fell in love with all I saw through the glass
A world unknown, unsurpassed,
Beyond my grasp,
But the only thing I’ve ever seen.
I called on You last night,
And You were there.
Closer than a brother, fairer
Than ten thousand- mighty,
And tender.
They tell me how to speak,
How You would have me,
All reverence, or all intimacy,
As the King, or the Seeker,
Or the Savior
Narrow forms of appeal
And I quake with fear,
But You play no Lear
To my clumsy Cordelia
Or my calls,
Through all their intimidation,
I cannot remain unspoken-
I call on You as one broken
In childlike trembles of desperation
Looking for a Father
And You’ve never waxed pernicious
In my improprieties,
So patient with all of these,
And ever the God with us-
With me.
I called on You last night
As just me to only You,
As with all else we’ve been through
You showed up and made it right,
Looking at me through You
That I may be lovely in Your sight.
viewingcamelot 