Significant

My little puzzle
kills me
and barely makes the world blink

how's that for feeling significant

so much work to wake
and do the right thing
and then mean little

My puzzle
still baffling
so nearly complete
but sacrifice has drawn me away from the final conclusion

kept me alive perhaps
or do we not die with nothing left to do

Crumble

Small stones
rounded by floods
and countless changes in the currents

we crumble
from our first loss
to our last conquest

What sense
have I
of what it means
to have permanence
and of how little it matters
beyond each moment

When is the last time I was just watching the sky
just being and not trying to

killing creativity for a clean canvass
trying to find that inspiration
that only falls farther away
the more you know or try

Looking at stones in a river
and seeing time
wisdom and permanence
and not seeing that it just happened
through nothing more than a twist of earth
that made water run this way
rather than another

but also seeing that like the stones
I am worn
dulled
diluted
and consolidated
by a deluge all its own

Somewhere between the overstated
and unspoken
are the moments that allow me to live

Forever searching
hoping to turn over a new
sharp edge

What We Have Left

Give me the world
within.

Where the puppeteers
can't send strings.

Where paychecks aren't needed for the rent,
or heat,
or sustenance.

Where for moments
I can live long and free.

The imagination
that keeps souls alive
through the worst torture
and slow death that is us all now.

Give me the world
within.

The world two thirds through a good movie,
or song,
where nothing else is.

Give me these grains
no one can take,
or decide how I need spend.

Give me the awe that is not for sale.
Give the life found in first kisses.

The joy unexpected
found sometimes in just a walk around the block.

Where the power of the world order
can never come and stand over
and direct my next impulse.

Finding Middle

Nineteen and sharp
I've seen all I need
and I never forget.
Anything else-- I already know better.

Now forty is just a sunset away
and the foundation that got me here is crumbling,
full of every crack in everything I thought was for sure.

So clear
all I don't know now.
So unclear
how to get beyond my past and present to some better mix of both.

Small Wings

small wings
big enough to carry my few ounces
that can still float off to dreams

little wings, feathers of sparrow's plight
capable but to their task only
with baggage downed, they soar

in my life

birds
flying underwater
fish in the air

me in my life

snails
out of shells
sluggish

me in my life

purified ocean water
salt in the tap
chrome crusted calcium

me in my life

a gravel road highway
going somewhere not very fast

me in my life

old wood
no longer spared by a roof
standing tall against the sun and rain
grayer every april

me in my my life

laughter of desperation
cutting but not mending
tension
heavy in light shoes

me in my life

dented glass jars
just fragments of what they meant to be
but sharp as ever

me in my life

an empty freeway
going north or south
cutting east and west into different lands

me and my life

toast at tub side
electrifying
in so many wrong ways

me in my life

friendly fire
I guess there is such a thing as friends too close
or one's competing selves

me in my life

all ears and eyes
mind worn flat

me in my life

stars in the ocean
cooling down
dead light still in transit
to the bottom of some end point
or my eyes

me in my life

birds surfacing
with their catch
another mouth fed
for how much longer

Modified

Six ears
for a buck

Looks like corn
smells like chicken
tastes like fish

zaps its own bugs

I'm unsure
if the rest of the meal
confused things

or maybe
they're just clear

like the juice
in the kernels should be
before serving