Dispatches from the Suicide Hours of Immortality

The poem is a pied piper for the rats in my mind

the sunday times 8.2.20

if and when


as falling falls away


the heart

a darkened well

of things forgotten


maybe someday

maybe never


white flags

at half mast

over the fields

of love’s lost wars





saturday night blues


unsweetened silence

in the dimming dusk

of hollow gray bones


hardly a rattle

from the evening’s breath


stoic and solid

as a statue


i sit and type

by candlelight


navigating these clouds of sadness

hanging heavy over

head and heart

for far too long.


here from gone


once entranced

by the embers

of oblivion


now just backlight

for the presence required


the wreckage from which returned

still stands as a smoldering reminder


never fully out of view.


gratification, desire, and escape


attuned reaction


suffer the grasp

liberate the release


know the point of turn

and pivot with purpose


whether tangible or visual

aversion will not bode well


find the middleness

to investigate the root of this craving

in the heart and mind


in doing so

you will have solved

its power.


stars and bars


driven busy with affliction


menaced by the blind disorder

and downplayed immediacy

of supposed authorities


conditions amplified

by inaction and ignorance


a nation of crybabies,

contrarians, and curmudgeons


confederate cockroaches

crawling from the woodwork

to spew their bile and hatred;


i have never been prouder

to be ashamed of my country.


“To be courageous, is not necessarily

to go anywhere or do anything except

to make conscious those things we already

feel deeply and then to live through the

unending vulnerabilities of those consequences.”

  • David Whyte

Poems for Days – Day 26 – 7.26.20

[intimacy of distance]


unnamed upon this journey

an evolution of constant becoming


leaving the shade of previous forms

walking beautifully wounded

outward from the center of exile


accepting of all the comings and goings

so that even if the ground were to give way beneath you

it comes as no surprise.


Poems for Days – Day 25 – 7.25.20

[slim and none]


mind off

and running



from the cliffs

of false hope


to drop into

the unknown



to fight

or fly.



Poems for Days – Day 24 – 7.24.20

[brighter things]


strategy and catharsis

necessary in times of strangeness


keeping sharp the talons of the mind

to diffuse the passing time-bombs of thought


becoming aware of muffled ticks

far beneath the surface


the psychic pricks of trauma and stress

triggered by this confinement and isolation


have become fodder

for a deeper understanding

of the horizons within.



Poems for Days – Day 23 – 7.23.20

[deeper the well]


dim reflections

far from the surface

of the sky


a mirrored illusion

showing only one side


but still illuminating

in its own way


in portraying the balance needed

to walk the uneven grounds of this life.




Poems for Days – Day 22 – 7.22.20



squares diminish

as light escapes


dodging hammers

in this season of sickness

and stupidity


returned to the fine art

of scraping by


as hope grows thinner

than the skin of my teeth.



Poems for Days – Day 21 – 7.21.20

inner gravity


as near futures

burn before our eyes


only presence

can turn the tide


giving full attention and awareness

to this experience is our only way forward


however painful, frustrating,

or daunting it may be


there will also be joy, fulfillment

and peace of mind if we stay the course


making space

for the myriad emotions arising


as the river flows

relentlessly onward.



Poems for Days – Day 20 – 7.20.20

[the sum of small hours]


in the cold dark mountains

behind my eyes


a horizon awaits

somber and stoic


whispering secrets to the night

howling like midnight winds thru the valley


as silver streets wind and slide

beneath the laughing moon.

the sunday times – 7.26.20

hope and desolation


between brink

and bombardment


when either

hammers or love

will fall


it is best

to always be ready

for both.


the blooming of the bloodroot


though it seems forever

only an instant will ever pass


we are but a blink

of the cosmic eye


bleeding out

from birth


into the wild stars

of ever dimming light


that hold more knowledge

and grace in their fire


than can be comprehended

by the fleeting human heart.


let not the threads of consciousness fray


left to suspect devices of

denouement and deaf ears


it becomes painfully obvious that

set ways of relying on nothing more

than what has already been drilled

and reinforced into concrete belief

are not likely to be undone


there is a hard fight at hand

as the blood spilled is continuously

either denied or defended


yet despite all this

there is hope in the youth


that first and last promise of light

that never goes out.




the odds are optional

and never quite equal

to the task


always dependent

on the amount of soul

in any equation


what is being brought to the table

is far beyond the sum of experience


swagger worth less

than quiet cool


stealth and subtle style

over bravery and bravado


here in the clumsy hazard

of beingness


where all bets are off.


holding true


thru the bending ways of the wind

there remains is us all a deeply rooted core


an essence of irremovable light


maybe buried

maybe cracked

maybe obscured

by simply being life


by the years piling up


but no matter the debris

no matter the obstacles

no matter the darkness


it remains


and the farther beneath it all it rests

the brighter it burns


all it ever takes is a moment


to close your eyes

to pause

to breathe


to realize

its presence

is the truth

of your purpose.


“There is no insurmountable solitude.

All paths lead to the same goal:

To convey to others what we are.”

  • Pablo Neruda







Poems for Days – Day 19 – 7.19.20

[counterpoint to cacophony]


bathed in the shadow

of towering light


a trembling stem in the stairwell

from the pit to the pinnacle

with no flower to speak of


only the muted grief of parting

held within the joy of silence.