Today,
I am the product of your inadequacy,
and
I refuse to be a part of anyone else’s.

With determined, immense and weary consternation
I have no juice for your project orientation.

While taking out the trash and washing the dishes
I think about faith and love
and wonder what’s the difference.

And wonder if there is any difference,
And whether it really matters.

Without you
I would go about my day doing different things,
asking myself questions,
like these,
that don’t really matter.

This is today,
like I said,
and tomorrow will be different,
as I have faith in time,
and belief in love.

Oh,
to live experimental days
abundant with sumptuous moments
open to accident,
surprise,
unpredictable processes,
true serendipity 
and love of everything

being 
all good.

No narrative in the crashing waves

no story;

only elemental power,

primordial disturbance of the sea,

mad crashing

angry waves;

indifferent forces.

               Taking an exuberant plunge 
               over the junk nostalgia
               of order,
              doing this, doing that
              with the intimacy of a dog’s breath,
              documenting the change
              in my pocket,
              oblivious to epic ambitions,
              while a yellow flower breaks free
              from the mundane weeds.

            Shhhhh....
 
           Step silently into anonymity this place of personal stillness. 

           Sigh. 

           Relief from the constant throb of gotta 
            fill those holes inside 

           and make some Big Thing from nothing.