a philosophy of language
November 13, 2011

preceding essence

I believed in falling into being and
her and the way her mouth moved
when she said the word tomorrow
and I loved her eyes in the morning
and we fell into step on the sidewalk
we breathed together in the midnight light
we knew when to talk and when
not to talk and when to hold each other’s hands
and there is language immanent in every
movement of her arm though we don’t know
how to speak really because we are still learning
the most basic vocabulary of this foreign language
living is a foreign language these
touches are an unknown dialect
I am learning I am trying to learn
I am wondering who speaks this fluently
wondering if I can fall in love with them
so they will teach me their first language
nothing is so easy nothing is natural
to me to my limbs and in the depths of my being
there is nothing there is emptiness and so
I can be anything I tell myself I can fill myself up
with anything I can hold on to
anything I can keep between my fingers
what is this I am trying to find nothing
nothing but that’s okay I can live
I must live I am inevitable

free verse
May 31, 2011

Living is for this

I have emptied myself too perfectly
of every last childhood reminiscing to be alive,
and as each raindrop falls onto my tin roof,
I am drifting further out to sea
on the puddles welling up in my front lawn
and on the water filling the potholes of my long driveway,
and soon the grass will be completely underwater
and I will walk barefoot through the mud
and let earth push itself between my toes
so that I can feel how the earthworms live.
I have emptied my self of my humanity,
and I don’t want it back because
as I was dreaming while lightning broke the night sky open,
the devil came to me in my sleep
and told me that he tried to cry out
and leave every trace of horror behind
and live in paradise and destroy himself
and care for nothing but the patterns of monarch butterfly wings
but life held him back because what are we
without something to struggle against?
But I am done with suffering.
I have turned in my ticket to the afterlife,
and I have renounced all my humanity
that was tied up in every moral wishing for better
because I am done struggling
against every unseen evil that lies nascent
in the sharp stones of my driveway –
the evils that lie waiting underneath
the tongues of the eight-year-olds
who have known too much for their age
and will let it all loose
when the adults have left to commit their own sins,
but I have emptied myself of the concept of sin.
I give up my guilt.
Guilt is for nothing.
Guilt is for making us feel like we cannot be human,
and so I have given up on being human.
Let me be an animal without words.
Let me live with my toes in the mud.
But oh my God,
how I love to sing.

free verse
May 10, 2011

A down-going

We are falling through an emptiness of our own making.
In the pitch-blackest hour of our nights
when all the stars have turned their backs
and the earth has forgotten why it needs to turn,
we will crouch on the far-side of the continents
and unravel all the tales we forgot to tell
and let the unspun strands slip into the
steady sunlight and burn
so that there will be nothing left but
the ashes of us – the charred remnants
of the humanity we once were.
We were the humanity who once spun all the strings
together into the chords holding the planets in place,
those lines that let us traverse the nights as tightrope walkers,
our toes grasping at the unwavering woven tales
of ourselves that kept us off the ground.