January 30, 2014 § Leave a comment

did it start at Genesis
at the ABC
or at the very beginning
of the end
with hope
on the right foot
stepping from number one
or a countdown
from ten did it start
at first-things-first
or slow and steady wins
and second is the best
when the good guys
finish last or was it
the chicken or the egg
a Big Bang that cut
the ribbon
at the line
signaling a small start
with a sunrise
in a new chapter
breaking the ground
of a page turn
at the omniscient alpha
just before the fresh tomorrow
that’s dancing
like there isn’t one
was that exactly and precisely
where it started
and where
it all began


January 26, 2014 § Leave a comment

Standing with your forehead facing west
your feet sinking slowly
into the watery sand
and your eyes trained on the brightest star
falling lazily from the sky
sinking slowly like your toes
into the shimmering mouth of the sea
that awaits hungrily below to swallow the day,
it’s at that moment, when the star seems to rest,
for just a bit, on horizon’s edge
and a line of light traces where the silky pool
meets the sky,
and earth’s edge,
perfectly curved and round, appears
and for a second
you remember
you’re standing on a planet
floating in a galaxy of rocks
among a vast confusion
of time and light
in a foreign universe of matter
dark and violent
and miraculous
and then you blink again,
and it’s nighttime
and you’re back on earth.


January 24, 2014 § Leave a comment

With weathered hands and downcast eyes
he carefully collects the days, weeks,
years and decades, balancing
this unbearable expanse of time
atop his hunched shoulders, his task unrelenting
it grows with each passing day
a burden taken with vigilance and care
for if small pieces should slip from his grasp
he is chided by those who remember
and punished by those who forget
but he is only one and we are many, and as his accounts
of the facts and stories and lifetimes and fictions and lies of millions
become blurred and inky with time
he must let the insignificant, sodden bits
float to the ground, for his muscles tire
and his mind becomes cluttered
and he worries for his sanity, because what he has seen
is far too much for any one man to bear himself
and those small pieces, released from his steadfast hold
become dusty and yellowed and torn
as the weight of days and weeks and eras
trample them underfoot, until they are forgotten
and erased from pages of timeworn tomes
indistinguishable to even the spirits
who still wander the earth
unrecognized and foreign to all
except to the man with the weathered hands and downcast eyes
for History never forgets.

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