Aug 25

As the Clock Grows Ever Louder

Urgency’s increasing.
Will the panic ever cease?
And will the still incessant ticking 
Lend my mind a sense of peace
Enough to practice what it’s preaching
Give my life a sense of meaning
Leave my mark, whatever that means,
Spend well my allotted time?

Or will my constant fear be realized
Will my nightmares spring to life
All my fruitless efforts mocking 
How I’ve failed but to survive
Will this mediocrity 
Maintain its power over mine
As the clock grows ever louder 
‘Till at last I’m out of time?
Aug 24

At The Risk of Waxing Sentimental

When a fall is caught
That quiver of sensation
From fingertip to shoulder
And away, then
From one vertebra to next 
Summons lightning from the crest 
Of the crown- then it spirals down.

Not yet caught -the fall-
But still remains the catching 
In the throat, and the shiver 
Is still pressing 
Imminent the plunge; I hear it calling,
“You’re not caught, you see.You’ve already fallen.”
Aug 23

Why I Don’t Write Like I’m Running Out of Time

     I’ll begin with a blunt forewarning. For the first time,  I’m about to pour out the innermost contents of my soul all over this expansive and terrifyingly public entity known as the internet. Is that the best of ideas? Likely not. Am I going to regret this immensely in a few hours at most?  Absolutely, but here I go anyway. So bear with me or don’t.