raw poem

 (untitled)

Now things daily fail, wit droops downward,

and eloquence evaporates before the dark—

where oh where is our poet of sweet majestic rhythm

with a philosophy that satisfies the intellect?

A mind adorning logic with imagery picturesque;

of metaphor and simile as suggestions to luminous effect—

someone disposed to clothe ideas in most splendid dress, 

standing as saving grace towards a liberation’s truth—

an ear fine for its meter, imaginative and soothing in affect,

a vision delivered with pathos in the manner of artists,

speaking after prophets;

someone for when it’s impossible

to rewrite history we already know,

to compose light we still must learn.

20+ year old art someone had framed; must return to this series one day

poem

 After Edna St. Vincent Millay

O Earth I cannot hold you close enough;

the winds born of these wide blue skies,

and mists that roll and rise

upon your mountainsides this very day—

yet again at rest, sublime witness

to gaunt peak high above

awaiting with view of the sea.

O Earth, I cannot get close enough

to your glory known and pursued for this long;

that which stirs a passion to make one burst

with joy and mirth—

my spirit all but out of me in

seeking your embrace.

O Earth, let the Sun burnish your oceans

and numinous orb,

let fall your burning leaves,

let rise your various seeds,

calling every thing—

tame, wild, or in-between.

poem

 (untitled)

Suppose you were standing in a backyard landscaped
and manicured just so—plant and bush and tree
curated to precision and flowering all about;
and you had a paperback book open in your hands
about the history of philosophy
randomly picked from a shelf indoors;
and then a special someone came out the slider
and towards you, asking what was being read,
and you replied something about the Stoics,
something about life composed
solely on what you can control and what
you can’t;

and as they reached you,
wrapping arms around your waist
to look at the text too,
then kissed your bare shoulder
and said “Truth”—wouldn’t that be it?
Wouldn’t that be supreme in meaning of this existence—
learning in a best possible way,
hot kisses later in the day.

old poem edited

 

Let’s Talk

Let's talk about the universe,

but not how many stars there are in our galaxy,

and how even an olympic swimming pool filled

with sand from the nearest beach

still wouldn’t hold enough grains to pair them all.

And let’s not talk about how out of all the frequencies flowing,

those visible are infinitesimal within the entire spectrum of things known. 

And let’s not talk about how quasars spew more energy in seconds

than is allowed for in our current conception of physics.

Let’s not talk about what has yet to be explained,

let’s not talk about the mystery of it all, but rather,

let’s discuss what we know to be true:

let's talk about how exquisite your pulchritude is,

and how easily you’re adored.

Let’s talk about how much I long for you.

Let's talk about hands and fingers touching skin

causing endorphins to flush into our bodies,

and the special membranes we here on Earth know as lips.

Let’s talk about what it would be like for ours to kiss.

Let’s talk about the worlds which would come into existence

from such a cosmic event.

Let’s talk about you and me

as a match made in the heavens.

E. A. Poe

 Poe was more than some drunk drug addict dude who wrote The Raven. He was a harsh critic who argued writing is analytical and therefore methodical, not spontaneous: most writers would shudder at showing the public something before they’re ready. Poe's conviction was that a work of fiction should be written after the author has decided how it ends and which response they wished to elicit. Once determined, all other matters of the composition—characters, settings, themes/details—are in service to what the writer/artist is dying to say about the world.

Note: new Poe bio released 3/18/25; 700+ pages: https://www.amazon.com/Edgar-Allan-Poe-Richard-Kopley

When the CEO of Facebook says

it's no longer centered on friends and “more of a broad discovery and entertainment space" means it's a public utility and should be turned over to the public. If you're American, just because you create something doesn't mean it's perpetually in your hands, and especially if it becomes a harm to society.