Tag Archives: the self

Old Poems Posted (3) “Casting”



Vision – like drawing a picture, or doodling, you have an idea how it will look, even a precise image imagined. But rarely does it go very smoothly. If you cannot adjust to a bump in the paper or a twitch of your own hand, then you cannot finish. You must find a way to include mistakes in the final product. You must learn to work through them. Sometimes it exceeds all expectations, even those of its creator.


My dreams like water
dripping from my outstretched hands.
Wet hands.
I remember
without pain
what ache is.
This indecision.
No aspirations can be
separate from childhood,
from parental input.
No collaboration
can dim the floodlights
on a mistake.
On fire.
My promise to myself
is an abstract on life.

What is the long run anyway?


Never keep secrets too long
inside, to must
to memory’s withering.

A mouth opening
closing, a fish spitting
thoughts wide

reality shelved temporarily
self-interest on pause
leaves us feeling emphatic

I hear my voice in the abyss
and all the attention paid
crashes and echoes.


Old Poems, Posted (2)


my compartmentalized life

with thoughts flooded
words contaminated by watery overflow
This uneasy simplicity keeps separate

me with people
me at work
me in love

Endearing or not
it is honest.
No less honest than the outwardly clean cut
who are spheres without
any smeared line

I am blurred
marks like a maze to deceive

As a riddle
I can call it
Stark contrasts
do no insight
I am looking at you
to confirm
I need you to approve
you have no boundaries
only an unmitigated self
revealed in expressions words
No. I am not compartmentalized
I am what I am

I am lying