night conceals atrophy and decay
but it happens all around us
what binds us will fall away
our flesh and bone to dust
give me your answer
before we rot
I love you’s
heard by
none
***
These six Landay (Couplets of nine and thirteen syllables) may be read as a single poem, but they were created as six separate poems about six separate subjects.
Grasp that lightning if you must;
harvest it, gorge yourself upon it,
repurpose it to power your safe haven,
getaway vehicle, or doomsday device,
whichever you choose;
I’m not qualified to judge.
Ask my mother.
She knows. She knew
way back when I was 16 years old
that I wasn’t shit
and my grudge-fueled quest
to prove her wrong succeeded
at proving her both absolutely wrong
and unequivocally right like an
accidental Schrodinger’s cat experiment.
Inability to forgive
converted my potential into kinetic,
driving my momentum
into achievements I never imagined for myself,
and it also left me lifeless,
dead-eyed,
inside an unremarkable box,
waiting to be discovered by wiser forces.
Forgiveness is for old folks
who no longer have the energy for grudges;
many of whom are gathering
their remaining momentum
in a last-ditch effort of
getting into heaven.
Suddenly
the meaning of The Lord’s Prayer
crystallizes before them,
and they’re angling for a slice of salvation pie.
I don’t know much about forgiveness,
but I do know how it feels to run out of steam,
finding myself alone with regret. Nowadays,
I find both grudges and forgiveness
equally inert.
All that matters now lie within
taking accurate readings
and observing what is.
***
Hephaestus’ Waste & Cosmic Rubble 