To dance in the rain (11/24/96)
Great big tears weep from the sky.
I wonder at why the heavens have cause to cry.
And yet the tears embrace me as I dance
in the mud, on the ground.
Their tears encumber me with their wet weight,
Endrenching my clothes in their embrace, melting
One tear into the next, becoming altogether one,
One with each other, one with the mud, one with
The rains, with me and the sky.
And heavily my vestments cling to my flesh
Holding my shape as a hand caressing the form of
My body, the shell of my dwelling, and I
Feel not so much alone with myself, abandoned, but
Alone as one with the earth and sky.
Whispered Silence (11/94)
If ever time were passing by as clouds perambulate the sky, I'd love your voice within my ear to sense that there were someone near. And yet, if I could never hear the whispered words of one so dear, Would I be less than I am here no words within my mind to clear? As time doth ever pass me by, as clouds perambulate the sky, As shines the sun, reflects the moon, And water flows, and wind doth blow, I long to hear your voice, you know.
Strength (Sunday, September 22, 2002)
Sometimes I wonder
where strength comes from,
when everything seems so hard.
I try to remember
what’s easy for me
and slink into comparisons.
No, I am not another man,
nor is another one me.
I realize how little it gains me,
to put on another man’s clothes.
My task I know
is merely to be
the best of me I can.
Then I remember
that strength itself
resides inside of me.
The muddy clouds of me (December 6, 2006)
I want
more than anything
to be subsumed in distraction
to no longer feel the burden
of my own emptiness.
I want
more than sorrow
to feel something greater
than my own numb self.
I am
at once
absorbed in self-pity
consumed by longing
hollowed by the shrug of existence.
I, I, I.
I tire of my own pronoun,
wanting simply the strength
to shirk the robe of its embrace,
for it stifles me
more than it gives me life.
In this depression
I have so little to give
no pleasure to take.
Even masturbation
brings no reward.
To feel again
the warmth of another’s tears;
to see again
the rose in another’s cheek
as frozen winds
leave off the battering of their assault.
To shed the I enough
to hear the whimper of another’s pain;
to smell the musk of their fear,
and taste the salt of effort.
Oh, that my senses will awake again,
from the dark that obscures them,
these muddy clouds of me,
to once again permit my self
to be.
