Illuminated

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The twilight of my heart
Rebels against
The dying night.
Like the fiery stars
That litter the
Firmament,
Your love burns
With brilliant veracity
Regardless of the sun’s
Vibrant obscurity.

The twinkling of Your
Love is only intensified
Against a blackened
Backdrop – other forces
Beguile my eyes, but the
Ostensible truth is that
Your love is there – inextricably so.
Whether I can feel it or not.
Whether I can see it or not.
Whether I can hear it or not.
I know it is there because you
Are in everything that is beautiful
And holy.

Incandescent Darkness

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My Splintered heart
Has lost its ardor.
The brownness
Of the edging day –
My love’s
autumnal chill –
Frosts the diaphanous
Pallor of the daisies
Lining the hallway
Of my indifferent smile.

Vapors of inconsistency
Swirl up to the glass
Ceiling of veiled tones
And hushed silences –
Screams of violent,
beautiful hope –
Love’s lunar squall:
Waxing and waning,
Heaven cloaked
In Hatred’s eternal twilight.

And yet, time’s healing
Forgiveness,
In scraps and patches,
Stops the bleeding,
Salves the pain,
And baptizes the darkness
Of my starless night.
Words will find me;
Words like water
Will wash me clean.

 

Ready? Begin…

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I pledge Allegiance to the flag of the United States of America and to the Republic for which it stands, one nation under God, indivisible, with Liberty and Justice for all.

I say this pledge every morning. In unison with my students, we stand with our hands over our hearts in respect and reverence for the things we are to remember. I wonder if they are fully aware of the profundity of this pledge of this allegiance that tethers us together as Americans — as citizens of the great United States. I think not. They are roboting their voices in unison – monotoned, droned, Novocained to the impervious nature of these paramount utterances. By saying these things, does that make you any more or less American if you actually mean it when you say it? Sometimes I try to recite it as if it were the first time or as if my voice wasn’t metallic and inky, but the struggle with that is timing – pacing – uniformity. We MUST stick together or this whole thing falls apart. Is that really true? Who am I to say in earnest or even in true honesty because I, myself, am a fluxing flowing void of psyche and obligation. One MUST say this pledge. One MUST stand with hand over heart and RECITE from memory – from five years of age until you no longer bleed blue. Well, I bleed red, white, and blue; but I don’t like saying the pledge. Does that make me a bad person? No, of course not; but I can’t help thinking that it is a slap in the face to those who have fought for my rights for my un -, sub -, or under-appreciated freedom – it’s nothing to sneeze at, but these poppies keep pollenating my sinuses. God bless you! No, let’s leave Him out of this, shall we? Can we? Is that at all possible? I think not. What if I lived like I truly believed in this pledge? What would my day look like? Would I do things, say things, appreciate things differently? Or would I continue to robot my way through the unsatisfactory endeavor to achieve what Jay Gatsby and Willy Loman couldn’t? That elusive, slippery little lie – the great American Dream of happiness and contentment…I haven’t found it from saying things, from mere recitation. Perhaps, I must put my money where my mouth is…but the casting shadow of Lady Liberty is long and wide in the sunset of my dreams. So, I will continue to perform in the most allegiant of efforts to entertain, sustain, maintain the proclivity and profundity of that Star Spangled Wonder hanging in the corner of my classroom and my heart.

Love Me Like a Metaphor

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Love me like a metaphor

Bathe me in your words

Intoxicate my thoughts

Enliven me in verbs.

 

Emanate my breathless tone

Nullify my pain;

Conjugate each falling star

Steady love’s refrain.

 

Speak forms of love in diction kind

Sing lilting songs of joy;

Command the syntax of our hearts

Compose my words held coy.

 

Conjunct in me your grace, your strength,

Inspect my passion’d curves.

Come diagram my heat undone,

Relent my sweet reserves.

 

Love me like a metaphor

Call forth my form’s desire

Satiate my needs aflame

Douse me with your fire.

 

Hourglass

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In the infinite splendor of the cosmos,
Comprehension eludes me
In form and shape – a box? Put it all
In a box and see what comes of it?
Pandora won’t stand for it and neither
Will the Fates! They snipped and tied
Their strands with such synchronicity
Things cannot be replicated – unless
In the blipping form of déjà vu…

So, out of the box we go and into the
Unparalleled wonder of destiny’s
Hold — this microcosmic entity of reality:
Time. We can’t force it to stand still
As much as youth would covet
That chance. Nor can we compel
It to speed up; she drags her tedious
Heels through the sloughs
Of hours, minutes, seconds…
An egregious summation – a torturous
Grind when true love must wait
For her soul’s reflection to return
From the rippling wave in the waters
Of the firmamental deep – torrential oceans
Of pictorial magnificence — constellational
Glorification in undulating rhythms
Of perfected, harmonious love –
Waiting – yearning – hoping
For True Love’s reciprocating kiss
From across the dusted stars of dreams.

A box? Put it all in a box? Time and space
Won’t warrant such an occurrence
As desirous as it might sound to have control
Of things. A hand, marching in circular form,
The gradual agony of the slow ticking
From one numerical prison to the next –
It’s an eternity until your voice fills the void,
And seemingly a lifetime passes in the night
Without your form next to mine –
But, in the context of heaven’s
Wondrous crown – the paralleled Ether
Of stars and moons, of clouds and suns –
It is a mere celestial moment: a small granule
In the hourglass of cosmic measurements
Until I am with you – Boundless and free
From infinity’s fateful grip. Forever satiated in
The fullness of your love’s glorified aeonic embrace.

 

 

Of Strings and Stardust

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The strings call to my soul
stronger than words could ever elicit.
The mingling transcendent cosmic flavors —
salted by my tears and compelled
by your crashing waves
on the shores of my inability
to know my own heart
to decipher her needs
and control her defiant inclinations
of passionate longing –
“Move me! Make me feel!” She demands.
The strings acquiesce, inciting floods
of serene turbulence – night’s glorious
celestial embrace. My heart beats
to the heightened rhythm. My breast — rising
and falling with each gorgeously tormented
sound – each gentle nuance is like dancing atop
night’s glittering constellations, like waltzing
through the galaxy’s infinite dust of beauty,
heedlessly and magnificently bounding
from one star to the next.

 

 

I Wear the Sun Differently

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The sun is shining
and so are you —
your smile is full
of rainbows and
blueberries…and
hope. But, I wear the sun
differently. My eyes —
cloaked in the melancholy
of your scars —
cloud and bring forth
vengeful floods,
unsettled and unavoidable.
My love is messy —
to say the least. Pieces
of me and you are
scattered like ash
in a blaze of
stardust and dreams.
My anvil’d heart
sinks into the depth
of your ocean eyes.
Your words, like water,
wash through me
as you burst into
colors of vibrant mists —
your hues of healing light
glitter the path
to what will make
me whole again.


about the painting: “The Wanderer above the Sea of Fog” (oil on canvas) piece was painted by the German Romantic artist Caspar David Friedrich in 1818.