The Sunday Dispatch 5.28.23

[cusp]

never more 
than what is

though the mind intrudes 
with unsolicited expectation

pressing down on the heart 
until the pressure is unbearable

endlessly fooled 
into craving a definitive fix 
for an imagined urgency.   
*
[mayhem and mercy]

it’s never 
one thing 
or the other

it’s always everything

pinches and pecks
bushels and bombardments

our mind 
not machine enough 
to take it all in

so the heart and the soul 
take the brunt in myriad ways 
we have yet to understand

knowing so much more 
than we think  

while secretly giving us 
the strength to go on.   
*
[give it a minute]

around again

what ends we meet 
still to be determined

hoping to make new 
what always seems to break

some connection beyond understanding 
draws us back into each other’s orbit

a nice surprise
on a lovely day

now to suppress every instinct 
to jump right back in

to put the learning curve 
of years past to good use

to simmer
to stay

to steer 
the impatient heart 
thru the shallows

before the deep end 
can swallow me whole
once again.   
*
[good for the damage]

upright from hollow
leveraged by fences mended

dousing bridges mid-burn

none too far gone 
to make a better way forward

though still a bit 
of smolder in the rear view

that nothing 
can ever change. 
*
[wide against the sky]

holding sacred
what keeps us whole

an infinite distance
of guarded solitude

growing side by side
toward a greater understanding   

of what is needed
to cultivate a deeper state

of love and trust.
***
“All we are not
stares back
at what we
are.”
-	W.H. Auden

The Sunday Dispatch 5.21.23

[time serves no master]

born from a pleasant abyss
into an abysmal present

increments of infinity 
arbitrarily measured

doled out 
by concept and tradition

a contagious trap of mind
to dissect and delineate

the shattered whole.
*
[passing strange]

nothing gone now
everything remains

even the dead reclaimed 
by the living screen

we hold no sway
over what is done 
beyond our life

what might have been
may very well be

but far too late
to do us any good. 
*
[branded]

as off as 
the day is long

from deep 
sleep disturbance

a vision burned 
into the backstreets 
of the mind

hovering in the ether 
of unreachable thought

an amalgam of love and loss
fused in the stream of unconsciousness

to break the surface 
of timeless transience

and haunt 
the dead hours 
of awakening
*
[this far]

the days turn south
the reasons turn clear

humbled from havoc
grateful from the grave’s 
closest call

come clean from the memories 
of mayhem and misuse

to toil now 
in a fine and peaceful madness

that only 
such hard earned serenity 
can afford.
*
[a contented emptiness]

a space 
of no need

a vacancy 
in which to 
rest

no keepsakes
no memory
no reminders

an unfilled openness can be found 
within the breadth of a moment

if you know enough 
to look.
***
“I have remained here because of
my comfort with the darkness I know
and my fear of the darkness I do not.”
-	Hanif Abdurraqib

The Sunday Dispatch 5.14.23

[spineful of splinters]

clouds cracked 
and stripped

citizens sucked soulless 
by the toxic cities of the mind

the hum of life 
twisted into the dirge 
of imminent extinction

nowhere else to run
but out of time.
*
[if not for this world]

tries and turns
waywardly wasted

ship somewhat righted 
for the time being

tending to accept 
rather than regret 
what’s been done

to finally own 
the unchangeable past

and be grateful 
it has led me to some 
semblance of safety

however precarious 
it often seems to be.
*
[love, lust, and longing]

this
the unholy trinity 
of the heart

when left empty 
for too long

all just bleeds together

a dark ghost 
haunting the little light 
that remains

as surrender 
circles the wagons

and all the lonely nights
finally close in 
for the kill.
*
[in waves]

red lights 
sworn to secrecy

flowers left 
for the clouds 
to devour

this world inside these bones
filled with so many tricks and turns

small circles 
crack and spill

blood rushing 
toward nightfall

there is no telling these dreams
where to begin and end

as the mind drills its holes in reality
so the wolves of memory can slip thru

and remind the heart 
why it breaks so easily.
*
[off the ground]

nothing awaits
beyond the presence 
of hours and darkness

fall forward 
into the tension 
of what is

remain the anchor 
time wishes it could be

rise 
within 
yourself

to become 
everything 
you need.   
***
“And if the heart’s a rock
I’ll whack it with this tin
cup and eat the sparks,
always screaming, always
screaming for more.”
-	Gregory Orr

The Sunday Dispatch 5.7.23

[crushed]

far between the few
in the lonesome empty spaces

stars fall 
in the long 
dying night

and i reach out 
into the darkness

for a hand 
to hold.
*
[breaking up the down]

keeping balance 
within the framework of chaos 
is vigilance in action

no useless parts 
of the animal

everything sacred
everything source

both subtle arrows 
and tons of bricks

nudging, pulling, 
shoving, falling

and if you take it all as such
you just might begin to see 
a method in all this madness.
*
[broken mirror mind]

wounds resurfaced
by tissue and scar

once 
so deeply gouged
by the darkest shards 
of reflection distorted

now termed and conditioned
to withstand the initial barrage

long enough to learn
how to break gracefully

and not always having 
to needlessly shatter

into a million little pieces. 
*
[asleep at the altar]

falling into silence

a sacramental purge

a flicker 
and a voice

the purity 
of ether and 
ozone

spinning wheel 
spitting flames

we burn 
and breathe 
all the same.
*
[into stillness]

the night is more 
than darkness

the storm is more 
than ruckus

everything leading up to 
and away is all the same

no delineation 
but in the mind

simply a forced perspective 
of mortal conditioning

diverting our attention 
from the peace to be found

here and now.   
***
“There will come 
a time when you believe
everything is finished.
That will be
the beginning.”
-	Louis L’amour