how very surreal
is this life

the life of

a wanderer
who has travelled
to far distant shores
only to lose the capacity
to move

a dreamer
who sees nothing
but deepest darkness
when he closes his eyes
at night

a lover
who has touched
the flesh of the beloved
yet sleeps now perpetually

a teacher
immersed in knowing
lecturing to generations
yet having somehow forgotten
how to learn

a writer
whose unremarkable
name adorns dusty spines
while his latest pages display

’tis time
i think at last
to lift this rusty ax
to sever these cursed roots
and set myself free

Salt Lake City 12 Sep 2012


we are shrouded in noise
i thought as i turned down the music
and pondered why–
turning it off completely
i listened — just that, and realized
that it is we who surround ourselves
with this cacophonous cocoon
willfully, needfully

and i think i see why
we encumber our lives with sound
and song and frantic shouts
with whimpers and whispers
and clicks and creaks
with endless bloody noise
why it is we indulge the senses
so desperately

closing my eyes, i waited
and wondered and felt and
knew something at that moment
something unperceived:
how easy it is to hear silence
echoing within the vast cavern
of nothingness at the core
of this fragile being

i shuddered and wiped my eyes
it matters, i thought
turning the music back on
this matters when the only voice
is your own, expiring unheard
and you long for another
just one other voice
to announce, “I am here.”

Salt Lake City 22 Aug 2012