Artificial (A Prose Poem)

Feeling good today, the sun's glimmering like little jewels in stale light and though the wind is brutally cold I don't mind it at all, letting things roll off my sleeve like water droplets on green leaves in a breeze . . . have nothing to think about, nothing to worry about, just the free feeling I was given today and though I wonder if this wonderful feeling is artificial, hand crafted by brain power in a lab in the form of a peach tablet smaller than a pea, is this me, I don't know, maybe it's a new me ready to take on the world but I can't help but be afraid that maybe I was better off the way I was because it was all I knew and now I'm steadfast on a journey of becoming something new, uncharted territory, discovering things maybe eyes were not meant to see like riches at the bottom of the sea, but I take a long look around and my environment is augmented in ways that I cannot explain, color is beautiful, and people are happier because hey, I'm happier, and though the definition of happiness is different for some I think that this is what it is for me, and the help I needed to get here was all that I need.

Remembering October (An Occasional Poem)

Burial of a grandfather, October 15th, 2004

We stood in rows and leaned
like flowers wilting from the cold-
noses dripping, tears freezing into
clear crystals that fused onto faces
the quakes in our frigid bodies
outmatched by the quakes in our
brick heavy hearts

Upon your lawn,
hundreds of bodies shrouded
in blacks and grays-
and the mass reminded me of
an impending darkness intent
on swallowing me whole
and recoil as I may, I was afraid

And in the distance, holy words that
I wanted no part of, because
there was nothing holy in hands that
are meant to protect, taking what is ours
because there was nothing holy
in I, too young to feel such anguish and
anger that could not be quelled

And as they lowered your
wooden bed, we wept for dirt walls
that beckoned you home
the last parting gift we could give was
the sand we dropped into your grave,
where you would rest your head-
for eternity.

Be Still, My Breaking Heart

Be still, my
breaking heart, unravel
the binds that
tighten about your
flesh, the core
is made of string
easily cut by
hands that I know

Be still, my
breaking heart, do not
unravel the binds that
tighten about your
flesh, the feeling is
what keeps me alive,
the core is made of
string I'd like cut by
hands that I know

Be still, my
breaking heart, may
you be at peace with
the death of
a kindred flower I
could not care for
in the right way, for
I tried, although
it was not enough.

Far Gone

Too blank to even write anything. I don't even care. Today was horrible, but tomorrow will be worse.

Truth is, I was diagnosed with something today. The only support I have is myself, but when yourself dies a little every day, it turns out you're actually alone in this.

Tragic.