hacking at solid ground

when the canopy of stars
has been made
sandalwood turned to sky
all lights have dimmed and blazed
just right, just then
my hands still reach somedays
feel ready and justified to claw at
more than I can reach
more time, more bevel
if today I could have the power
to stretch forth two hands
and reach somewhere
change someone
hold on to something
then everything will be all right

sanyasa

  

they arent the sands of time

or the ides of march

I think they are the tides of time

I have, a few stones saved

as the tide swells 

into a thousand years of memory

between the years

I have endless despair

as I fail my parents

my loves

and my children

but now, right now, im busy

failing me

the music swells

and a few hands

guide me into the bright light

I turn around, and theres even a few

for my sins

pulling me back

not many I remember

from the last hundred years

beside me flowing

are so many children

how many children

is too many?

peatalok

 

this here are the elvenar

you cannot trust their words

but their hands are true

that there are the ashadar

you cannot trust their words

nor their hands

but their ears are true

clockwork

 

put courage to paper

and song to voice

these sounds outside

they are blips and beeps and constant 

consolation, contradiction, confusion, command

they are made by the damned

a step outside maslows graveyard

how many condemned

do we own?

must we own?

can we own?

who here rations the divide

between the lines and beyond the pale

can it be hells waiting room 

and not the wall

who here is tracking for their own doom

convinced, and utterly convincing

they are the damned

the age of fire and water

for a while we had clothes and foods 

the lazyboy the Ikean 

but the colds of earth 

layering days and years and urgences 

upon the male fantasy of Shelter 

has rendered the Impermiable Woman 

to earth and wind and now everything 

is fire and water 

everything changes, is earnest 

constantly progressing, passionate 

everyone is struggling all the time 

to stay afloat 

to soothe the burns of uncertain time 

and we are back in the uncomfortable rotunda 

of turning to the patternologists 

for comfort and comedy 

oh btw, are we still dimorphic 

did everyone agree? oh they voted!