raisins (20170524)

today is one
of those wordless days
when all the words
(and all the king’s men)
don’t do any good
remain buried
deep in the chest
like trying to pass
a hairball

from space
i have looked down
into the chasm
as it yawned
(here’s a bedtime story
and a glass of water)
and felt the void at my back
folded like raven’s wings

nothing stirred before
or behind
only me
in between
some kind of ridiculous meat bridge
between
thought and deed
desire and action
life and death
silence and more silence

here is one
of those wordless places
where the syllables dry up
grapes becoming raisins
under an invisible sun

Poem 20150829

beowulf had the wrong idea
fighting grendel
he should have let the
monster clear heorot’s hall
of those small men
scrambling like rats
with their small worries

but he had gazed before
into the eyes of leviathans
had liked the taste of it
and knew what he was getting into

he must have stared long
and hard into grendel’s eyes
while he wrenched that arm free
of its socket

and longer still into the eyes
of grendel’s poor, grief-stricken
mother

he spent a lifetime
swallowing one abyss
after another
and as an old man
when it came to time to fight
his last monster
it was the biggest beast
he could muster from his own
soul

a dragon
but all beowulf wanted at the end
was a proper burial
and one last look at his wealth

if he had spent his youth
looking into the eyes of birds
would he have sprouted wings
and flown

—–
“Beware that, when fighting monsters, you yourself do not become a monster… for when you gaze long into the abyss. The abyss gazes also into you.”

― Friedrich Nietzsche