INSOMNIA

there is nothing
that truly holds
us; not the world
or our lovers, not
gravity or even mortality.

loosed we are
born and returned
to the infinity of death's dark
and silent mystery.

PEACE

it matters so
little, we know

better, we still
flounder.

the soul is restless,
it flaunts
and feeds
and we

forget the difference

between
wants and needs.

THREE LIES TIMES TWO

i think
i am
the world's

greatest
living
poet.

REALLY NOTHING IS

really nothing is
finished. things go

on not to
mention on

and...

(rinse/repeat)

...until we no longer
perceive any-
thing, not

because nothing
exists any-
more, no it's

because we never
really were

anything

to begin
with.

SAME THING

face it:
you are
mottled
reckless
awkward
and angry.

in other words
perfect
for me.

DISTRACTION

what we want
desperately: to be
somebody

who is an expert at
something, who knows
even a little bit
about anything --

who knows

the right questions or god
forbid, the answers.

(either suffices.)

and so we turn
to hobbies and vices --
where shared compulsion
stands in for purpose
and engagement postpones
identity crisis.

TO BE A PARENT IS TO JOIN A CONTINUUM OF FORGIVENESS

family vacation?
really
more like

family
vacation

or just

family.