Category: Existential Poetry

  • World Peace

    World Peace

    From where
    does peace arise?

    Does it ascend from victory drums,
    like conquest smoke
    of wars won
    by fractions of mankind?

    Or is peace
    like the moon,
    ready to lift itself onto the summit
    of man’s imagination and hope
    once the fire of the sky has waned
    and youth has run its course?

    Is peace the percussion of the heart
    or the stillness of the night?

    If so—why, then, does it seem to find me
    between beat and silence?

  • Artistic Ambition

    Artistic Ambition

    This is the ambition.
    It is this thing on this page.
    I sketch its features with these words, awkwardly
    scratching lines with a childhood’s fantasy
    now recreated, now resurrected;
    this is its face.

    This is its eye outlined, but where
    lies the essence?
    Words are not images. They are suggestions.

    In writing,
    I am trusting mankind.
    Is there a common humanity? Do you—reader—
    cup your hand in the same spring
    and draw from its miracle formlessness
    the shapes and colors of my mind?

    I write how we dream,
    sharing imagery and metaphor,
    notes of a heart beating
    as one.
    This is a shared life.

    The ambition again is this,
    the desperate reach through the dark,
    the splatter of acrylic onto lips,
    the stirrings of your tongue, and
    the whisper—

    you, mouthing these words that you read.

  • Spirals All The Way Down

    Spirals All The Way Down

    Spirals
    all about.

    Spirals
    of all types.

    Some turning this way,
    others that way.

    Left right,
    up down,

    each a distinct rhythm,
    and beautiful.

    We fall in love

    with one another,
    spinning and weaving together

    life.

    Spirals
    on end.

    Spirals
    sparkling night.

    Spirals,
    I am one,

    as are these words
    that eventually unwind

    through time
    and reveal the page 

    marked by the print of an unknown finger.

  • Brief Intoxication

    Brief Intoxication

    The world seemed so jovial at that moment:
    when every tangle
    of gold grass was a joke dangling
    from flapping tips.

    Every tree jiggled
    fat belly secrets
    of beautiful things hiding
    in the high fever heat.

    I laughed so verdantly,
    bemused as to why the world
    had ever seemed so dull and dark.

    Before I knew it though,
    the stars had risen,
    and in their frozen light
    loomed that familiar
    sterile cold.