Solstice

I just feel very confused. Very disoriented. There are people who have goals and reserves and expectations…. and I’m still just trying to survive in a lot of senses. And I’m just tired and I’ve been tired and im afraid I’ll continue to be tired. Exhaustion isn’t a song that lasts temporarily—it’s the silence that comes before and returns after. And everyone up there is strong and focused and full of potential and vision. They are realized, and I’m confused.

The Flames of the Fire Slew

Cast me into flame
I am not Shadrach, delivered
for I have much hurt

In Succession

What is numbness, if not a response
to environment?
………….And when that environment shifts, what
is numbness but a stagnation?

“Music is the manipulation of silence”
Vitality, in turn, is then the manipulation of illness,

Not yet begun
………….art painted
………….………….song sung
………….………….………….poem vomited
………….………….………….………….life negotiated
………….………….………….………….………….notarized by a lady bug
………….………….………….………….established as
………….………….………….legitimate
………….………….substantiated
………….conclusive
not yet concluded.

What is vibrancy, if not a response
to duration?
………….And when that duration resumes, what
Is vibrancy but a broadened capacity?

A Witness

A man sprawled out on a curb.
At the level of concrete
and asphalt.
A dog between his legs, CVS door behind.
Munches on M&M’s.

A man approaches, flops down beside
the stranger.
Pets the pup, both exchange names.
Silence, most companionable.
Race, upbringing, family background, status
—the curb knows none of these.
It only knows that two find themselves
resting on its surface—action well-rehearsed.

Not all have been so low
that they are eye-level with the street.
Two men speaking silence in accord
know a respect, respect mutually shared.

A chance encounter;
“Thanks for the convo”
“Nah, thank you man”
The handshake occurs, then ends
The curb remains, a witness.

The Truth

Today I ran
to see the sun set.
Today I ran,
ceaselessly.
Desperately I stumbled.
And today I caught the sunset.

I ran.
Over asphalt unyielding
and through gravel which catches.
I ran.
Around those for whom
reckless abandonment
is alien.
Towards the only constant
in this world,
I ran.

The tumult of light, and infinite spectrum
imprinting the night that follows.
To this I ran.
This afterglow of warmth.
Heat in bearable moderation.
A fire that cozily settles
and whose presence comforts
the tired child
who absorbs it,
and who does not fear the cold
so much, anymore.
Towards this,
I ran.

I ran to
the blaze, it filtered through the grove of trees
so distant
and shone in the water like a mirror.
—come, child, it murmured—
And I ran.

Light reflected in the abyss,
for those souls
enchanted by the edge.
With Prince screeching in the current,
I ran.

“Everybody’s got a right to love”
Alongside Grief, I ran.

And today I caught a setting sun.
I ran and breathed with the air.
My lungs heaved with felt feeling.
And I saw the colors
and remembered the colors
of long ago.
And the ones of today.

A realization, slowly,
manifests.
This caress in my ear:

Today I caught the sunset.
And today the sunset caught me.

At Last–Continuity

Alive, words on a page.
Alive, inside jokes
coy glances and scrunched nose
guffaws and screeches.
Alive, awareness of death,
inherent,
without surrender to it.
Alive, studying
to love your eyes,
the ones you begin to

distinctly discover.
Alive, floating the streets,
negotiating terms with
this wandering traveler
—relishing his mobility
and the navigation
assisted not by compass
but curiosity.
Alive, thrilling blood,
that blood which bleeds,
blots and clots,
ardent homeostasis assured.
Alive, pride
in endurance,
humility
in origins,
admission
of sensuality.
Alive, a continuation.
A life is a continuation.

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