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the firepit was dug, and it shone
intensely white and ephemeral,
and I, thinking it would endure
as sustenance, or life itself,
knew not what she thought, nor
did I think such a thing unknowable,
but I have seldom been as wrong

I survived as ashes survive,
and she has gone to burn in other places,
as meteoric as my memory,
and I suppose it also wrong to hope
that someday I could be consumed again,
and knowing this desire, I stand
chin out and cheek turned,
ashamed in my folded and sheathed heart

[untitled]

I was a laser, focused
a coherent ray of light
bending gravity and empty space
infinite in my singularity

Now I am scattered, buckshot
cleaned and dressed and strung up
reduced to writing on credit card offers
matches left unstruck and deals unmade

Too old to continue bearing the load
failing again to be a lover leaving
a candle in the window
has only arsoned my abode apart
ashes in the wind while
embers hum autumn colours

Lake over Heaven

It should not be hard to discern my purpose
Hearts are harder here in the city
The murmur of mine moreso than most
It should not be hard to design my philosophy
But I'm wary of the weight and wage
and oppressed by unscheduled overtime