Not For Sure…

Not for sure I’m quite here yet,
spending time,
wasting time,
time seduced
by fireworks and frills,
distraction not being a place,
a detour, yes,
a movement smooth and effortless,
away from place and a time notched in meaning.

Too bad,
oh too bad this gong of presence is muffled
in imagined past, and future projection,
fueled by unctuous schemes and urgencies’ insistent barbs;
unanchored and drifting,
in the current of lost,
the waves of losing:
tactile evidence grounding presence in the world.

Waving the tattered flag of surrender,
a half-hearted life of neglect,
of discernment of porous beliefs,
of connections barren and uncultivated,
sometimes careless, often clueless
to the ever-changing interdependence,
registering spikes of false confidence,
convinced that
when things go south
it isn’t necessarily you.


A poem is a messy thing,
a curious joyride
of unfamiliarity.

Readers bring their carload of desire
to make sense of
its momentum and inertia.

Of course.

We were taught
by the well-intentioned,
who never rode a hurricane
and couldn’t feel its eye;
who preferred the morning edition,
comforted by the comprehensible,
friendly and familiar.

Thrill seeking
attention demands
surrendering the need
for prosaic answers
in service of
the deeper dive
of questions;

resting in the exhilaration
of not knowing.


Bombardment of total sensation,
this coexistence of dissimilars,
emotional jolts in series,
producing utmost bewilderment,
encountering fantasies and
erecting puzzling solutions,
to make sense of the discontinuous flow
that we absorb;
negating any longing
for a life more abundant.

Too much now,
at this moment
between all that came before
and all that will come after.

This She Believes

I am the product of your inadequacy,
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,
nd tomorrow will be different,
as I have faith in time,
and belief in love.