Poems

Poems

Bones and Flesh

The bones strain / against their muscular constraints.
Cell by cell,
tissue by tissue—
I build myself up.

The stones rejoice—
they’ve become David’s beloved.
Goliath’s heady heights
will only lengthen the fall.

Cell by cell,
tissue by tissue—
I build myself up.
Towards the fall.

“How will you know you’ve reached the summit?”
asks the flesh—
its meaning so plain:
“Stay ignorant, bone; support my goals.”

Holding me back
negotiating with Gaia's pagan gravity
I grow.
That’s what I do.
Heady heights await,
and so I grow.
I march and march
cell by cell,
tissue by tissue
Am I growing only to fall?

Will It?

Five erudites sat sullen and serene
Pondering their imminent unease.
They waited, knowing the rowdy bear would return.
It didn’t harm them—no bruises, no cuts.
A rambunctious presence, tugging at thought.
It was going to be any moment now, I swear it will.
Will it?
It will.
It hasn’t.
...It will.

One of them thought a forgotten thought.
He looked up and remembered the existence of the four others around him.
What are they thinking?
Should I ask?
He did.
And change took place.
The serpent was wrapped and the milky sea was churned.
The bear was no longer rowdy, it had remembered love