musings while sitting in a pizza joint waiting for cheese sticks

wherever i am, i am here
whatever time it its, it is now
why worry about anything?
he says

and thus he drifts to dark places
and makes them his here
kaleidescope spheres of bubbled pain
apathy

he wanders with no compulsion
for every diversion is now
surprise turns in time go flat
apathy

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I see your face staring out at me
A flat form
Immovable blocks of color
Tiny electric squares
That somehow stir the liquid
Life in your eyes

And I have no words to say
No feeling but a blank
A blank, but fulfilled
For not all cravings must be
Satisfied
Empty space can be complete
Without being
Filled

There is peace in static
Of conversations not ventured
I look at your block face
Liquid life
And am blank, fulfilled

Quandry

When a wave
Lays on the sand,
Does the sand experience
The wave
Grain by grain,
Or as a whole dune?

Does the wave
Exhale upon the sand
Droplet by droplet,
Or as a unified body,
Dynamic and varied,
Crashing and retreating,
As one?

This quandry I must pursue,
For I am sand and sea,
And must know
Whether to divide myself into my
Elements,
Or remain an indistinguishable
Whole.

Sweat is my body crying
In fear,
Joy,
Strain.
For as my soul is one
With a greater consciousness,
And cries in implacable passion,
So too my body
Spirals down,
To the palpable rhythm of
Whence it came,
And cries:
In passion,
In sweat.

I heard you cry
Over the telephone,
Obstructed by electric
Crackles, and ever
A wretched length away.
Your sorrow so pitiful,
So raw,
So bereaved,
Carried to me on wires,
A pain so cutting,
And I was powerless.

I Wish You a Sanctuary

I wish you a sanctuary,
A cradle cupped hands,
A silent pouch a-swinging,
To close your eyes to distant lands.

I wish you a silence,
To engulf, to bathe and clothe
Your weary metal ears and eyes,
Which concrete mother hewn and clove.

I wish you my grove of trees,
And creek a-running past,
My silent sister sanctuary,
At peace, at rest, at last.

Small Smiles

Small smiles speak a million grins,
With subtlety,
Above the chin.
The quiet mouth,
Of joy repressed,
Tells multitudes,
Of laughs expressed.

And be it slight,
Or dainty, shy,
Plastered on,
Or wafting by,
The smallest smile.
To me is true,
A passing thought,
From me to you.