winter comes again in time and our
skin splits/ the heckling of stars:
the way implied, they could
be a sun, be the warmth
spoken of, yes I know
and we instead cracked
cups glued many times
hold fast.
how small the earthquakes warn
of a shatter and maybe
we choose to tie the rope tight
instead, tight around
our own eyes-
my dear friend, hold
the hands of your choosing
eyes shuttered and heart wild
with hollow rage like
a sun burns
from its self until done.
and what can we choose but
an anthem of joy or
despair?
dear wildcat, please free yourself
of the hunters trap and if
you must chew your own
leg to be free, be free
or if the rope is tight
and just right, I will try to
find you if you ask,
because I know your wild heart
and you know I am cracked
and full of nuance/ how you
came along and saw me going again
above the waves, breath held
to go down again but I stay
where nothing will rip
feet from sand, even
the crash all around/ but
you could see that I was tired-
it will be a choice, my dearest friend
to let an anger go that will not
destroy your enemies, at the
knowledge that nature is unjust
and will not strike down those who
would harm but give them chance
after chance… for you and I
to speak truthfully and
uncomfortably is
the only justice.
so pull the wound wide
and see like the ocean waves
there is no choice
but to return to the shore pounding,
flailing as a storm brews or in a sleepy slumber
beneath a still blue free of everything
but the pull of time, no choice
but to hold, “thought by thought.”
In Due Proportion 