“A handsome man guards his image a while; a good man will one day take on beauty” (Sappho, Exhortation to Learning).

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rainy streets

rainy streets —
endless tires
run the
endless roads,
cannot be still,
as if cars
are like prayer,
and must be
done ceaselessly
somewhere.

smiling faces,
hidden agendas,
fatuous men
in elegant suits
working the crowd
with compliments,
like waiters
serving wine.
radiant lights,
shimmering glass,
and women
in sparkling gowns,
disperse views
around the room’s
elevations and angles.
your wry smile
was like dark crystal,
both shadow & light —
affecting, yet
deeply sombre —
both attractive
and repulsive.
loneliness is purer
than feeling conflicted.

where is home?
you all only
think of yourselves;
therefore, this
is not home.

the mind imagines stability

The mind
imagines
imposes
stability
on an ocean
of momentary
flickering moments,
like the frames
of a movie
seen as ‘motion’
of ‘matter’
in ‘time’;
sensation
plays the eyes
for the eager mind
and the algorithms
that once
produced an outcome
are applied again
and again
and adapted
until successful,
becoming
an ever more refined
actor in the
mind-extrapolated
plot
according to the
mind-extrapolated
agenda.
I once saw
something I loved,
then it turned
in an unfavorable light
and I
could no longer
conscionably
love that
hideous thing
as myself,
so I became
something hideous
and now
I can love it again…
for the moment.
We are
an unutterable
present annihilation.
We
remember the past
and
imagine the future;
there is no time…
just the present,
which itself also
is barely mnemically
removed from
the actual present.

grandeur, tonality, judgment…

grandeur
tonality
judgment
invocation
agreement
viciousness
calloused
judgmental
evaluative
perusing
causational
formative
operative
constructive
abstruse
longing
yearning
lusting
craving
colding
holding
which way is best
closet
folding
germane
scolding love
my hosed
holding
mane
folding
balancing
excitement
pleasure
contusion
monstrosity
veracity
resting arms
lonely eyes
swarms
pastels gentle
smile
like the wind
beautiful
waiting
blown away
frail leaf
flicker
of sunlight
your existence
come again
then gone
breaking stone hearts
he worried
about himself
again
scornful face
unchangeable
unconstant
unseeming
he forgave
the lies
we told ourselves
our thoughts
and the trees
golden rustled
in muddy green
daily girl
perennial smile
unfaked
informed
weathered
right place
right size
gentle mother
loving gentle.

yellowed brown the face of learning

yellowed brown
the face
of learning
trying honestly
and small
moving
to keep warm
rainy dry
green blue
leaves overhung
my spotted vision
once gone
once away
once fled
into rome
for a day
i paid the rent
once more
again sinned
to call it
that again
my watches
of water called
and my words
the words of all
the streets i’ve walked
the halls down i’ve called
sunlit white façade
bluelit lacking shy
i honestly know not why
you turn your head away
from my mind
all mine, oh that’s why,
to relearn one’s own voice,
the texture of black
writing your delusions
slow on a sack
of intellect spilled deep
and far, but not wide,
there is no more to hide
since we called
your home phone
and caught you at home
watching yourself
watching us all
the all-ready there
placate the mind bare
found walking on
shadows of gardens most fair
your hair was not
the fall of water i’d hoped
nor nose the right shape
nor mouth right hook
but who called the gods
those self-centered dogs
presiders o’er pagents
and moralless hogs
fogs creep their stage over
w wittely humid
their image their face
and that face a hood
don’t be so you
and i won’t be so me
but i’m just speaking
of my wants there to be
another me but better
a craving i watch
stroll down the halls
with eye-squinted clutch
of my throat of my eyes
of my arms and mouth
what wall did crash down
what words ring aloud
crying
crying sobbing
lurching
heaving
outpouring
years of long debt
i decay tomorrow today
it’ll all be alright
please let it all be ok.

platonic sickness

if i
only lived
before i live
i might
do right
the next
ten years
before falling
really in love,
living
really at home,
really
with my family;
i might look
at the million hers
with less purpose
and more ease
and she might
look the same,
not yet tired
or indebted
or worried
about
regretted unaccomplishments.
for a second
her image flickered
in my head
half unconscious
and I but shadows
remember
though I run
mental marathons
to re-paint
the picture
theorem in the fire
of consciousness;
i have dreamed
that face
for nearly ten years,
growing with me
yet unavailable
a message
a fantasy
or an ideal
at whom
with whom
i stare
through others
our minds
the same
inseparable knife
through
a fabric of mind
spacetime
i would
know you
even
if i didn’t
see you
feel you
as in of me
a mirror
within patterns
reorganized
and called
the life of me
my mind
you were
were you
but here
i gaze
at your face
in pieces.