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The carpenter sits
at a workbench
  and plank

carefully carves,
skillfully shapes

Each line,
grotesque knot,
of original form

The artist
a splotch of moss
hues of gray
the delicate green
of each leaf

The gardener
plants the lie
among the truth

The philosopher
  before me stands a tree
  the truth is real
  simply open your eyes
  and you will not be


It can happen
on the quietest street
or the busiest avenue;
in the smallest house
or the greatest mansion

I found it
sitting on the floor
building trains
with my son

In the living room
singing and dancing
to Hamilton
with my daughter

Huddled over the crib
whispering my baby to sleep

I found it
in Hyde park
on an unusually sunny day
just you and I
when we were young

It's there
with my doodle's head
resting on my feet
as I work

It's everywhere
in everything
at every moment

I just have to remember
to look


I'm not looking
for love like wine
drunk, fun, out of control

I have love like water
cool, clear, refreshing

Love like the rapids
is exhilerating
and exhausting
I'm here
for the smooth,
steady ride
on the current

We'll hold hands
never growing tired
watching the birds
fly over our heads

I used to think
as we float down the river
we'd get bored,
drift apart
that the current 
would weaken and slow

How wrong I was
How glad I am


Do you ever think
of space,
then worry,
you'll float right out into it?

Have you ever been
on a plane,
imagined the bottom disappeared?
Then made yourself stop,
too worried you might fall through?

Did you once read an article,
about space energy,
so powerful and fast,
it would obliterate the earth
in a second
and we'd never see it coming?
But you can't think about it,
in case you make it happen?

Yeah, me neither...


I used to be
so scared of death;
Used to be,
I couldn't talk,
couldn't think
about it

My body felt so close,
like it was ready
to slip away
at any moment;
every little twinge
and I thought
  "This is it"

At least,
until you came along;
grabbed me by the shoulders,
stared me square in the eyes

I am going to die.
So are you.
So is everyone you love.

everything you've ever known,
ever touched,
will turn to dust;
not even a memory

You can't fight it
You can't change it

You can only pretend
and deny it
    ignore it

Or, accept it,
embrace it,
make the most of it


I have so many questions
  is it my super power
  or curse?

I have so many questions
  no answers

Always questions,
  never when it matters

Plenty of questions,
  nothing interesting to say

Full of questions
  looking for the laughter
  maybe some joy, too

Full of longing
not for the answers
  but meaning
not looking for knowledge
  looking for life
  for belonging

I've got questions
  and fear
about what you'll say
  if I ask
  if I answer

I've got questions
but will I ask?
Who will answer?


We're talking,
but through a brick wall;
I hear your words,
and you hear mine,
but not my heart,
not my soul

I want you to hear it,
I really do;
I let out
the faintest whisper,
but no more

Let's take out
our hammers,
smash holes
in this wall

Let me pour you a glass
of my desire;
an unfiltered cup
of my adoration;
I have so much
to share

My hammer is ready;
I'll hire a wrecking crew,
will you?

But I won't,
because you'll reject me
and I'll be left
without even the whisper
that I hear now


To abandon expectation
is to be rid
of disappointment;
All who let the shroud of desire
fall to their feet,
will notice also
lying dormant on the floor,
a lathargic hound,
his bite a distant memory;
but now,
which dogmatic montra
to take up its place?
That stoic aversion
of all that does not align
with nature?
But which nature to align to?
How about,
an epicurean pursuit
of pleasure?
But which can one taste
while shunning
the tantalizing eye of desire?
Perhaps only the silence
of that final dream
will bring the reprieve
we seek;
Shall we sit and wait
or usher it forward?
Better yet,
can we accept,
take up the path fortune designed?
Can we simply enjoy the hike; 
divets, thorns, and all?
Without searching for
that mystic trail
that does not exist


We are so far
from even the smallest
grain of knowledge;
we have not yet tasted
the sweet nectar
of truth;
yet we walk around
like proud roosters
ready to attack
anything that approaches
the coop we built
for ourselves;
we've confused the reflection
in the puddle at our feet,
for the stars in the sky


I stand on the precipice of insanity,
curiously peering over,
wondering at the feeling
of that detached air
caressing my face,
whispering in my ear;
at the attempt to lean further, 
the hands holding me
grasp my attention,
I will not dive,
not to those unseen depths,
I will not climb,
not to those blasphemous heights;
oh how I long to swim,
no, fear to drown, in those
other-wordly waters,
oh how they draw me in;
I will snap every connection
in my brain like a glowstick,
and walk in a light
none other can ever see,
I will float among the stars
of a galaxy that belongs
only to me;
I look up at the mountain
of delusion, scream
for her avalanche
to wipe me away, no,
to wipe away my chains,
to set me free;
my wrists strain 
against their chains,
no, your hands, even as
my feet leave the ground;
I will live in psychotic freedom,
bathe in deranged waters,
sup on the imaginary;
if only I can escape,
if only I can break,
the grip of reality