Written for a Friend on the Eve of his Birthday

life

The body.

It decays, yet:

These houses of meat are but temporary things for our soul to reside in while we experience this world.

This version of reality and consciousness.

All of our souls chose this plane of existence for some reason.

It’s a class we’ve all enrolled in.

To learn things.

Soul things.

Like how to Love and have Compassion and to learn Acceptance—

this reality is an ultimate test in Acceptance.

This world has infinite ways to humble us again.

And again.

Whenever we think we know.

To show us what we must accept about others and ourselves.

We learn to yield our great capacity for knowledge and noise to our destiny of peace.

Of sweetest silence

and quietude.

The state from which we arise and to which we return.

And every moment our bodies persist is another moment to learn.

And wonder.

Every moment

is another opportunity for awe

And gratitude.

Dearest Friend,

you’ve persisted

and continue to persist—

these moments

this life

is a chance to find

new horizons of possibility for our souls

knowing that whatever we find

is what we’ve always been meant to see.

The weight of conclusions

and decisions

dissipates once we realize that the only way to live

is to live.

So,

as long as you’re alive

—knowing every moment is a reward that we’ve somehow earned—

—that has been mysteriously given—

please feel

blessed.

Please feel amazed

and unafraid.

There is nothing to fear,

these things,

they happen.

The body, it decays.

That is the world.

But you are a soul,

Dearest friend.

The Life of a Siren

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The Life of a Siren

The siren is born with a song in her heart; it is as fundamental to her being as the very water she breathes. She is not a predator, but she is doomed to enchant. She sings her song because that is her purpose, her very existence. She is doomed to drown the enchanted. She may be the most splendid monster, but we should not judge her murderous enticements. After all, we do not judge the black widow for entangling and consuming her unfortunate partner… her actions are in-built and inevitable. And, like the black widow, the siren is doomed to loneliness.

Every sailor she’s captured should have known that oceans are vast and unforgiving. The sailor is advised not to listen to siren song, but he is helpless to hear. Every sailor, being human, has been endowed with sensory capacities: humans are born punctured with orifices, utterly susceptible to the penetration of loveliness. It is unavoidable that they will be victims of flavorful aroma, tuneful fragrance, and melodies both soft and delicious. Like the siren, humans are souls divided, and when they meet only one will survive. Survive on until the next tragic inevitability.

Reflections on Rochester

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Pain, absolution, pain, catharsis.
chasing that high:
tension, release.
Resist, surrender–
The exhilaration of experience:
an object of desire so abundantly meaningful…
elevated close to total importance
to the extent that the pleasure of longing for it sometimes exceeds the pleasure of obtaining it.

A wise person once said that love can be defined as “the acute awareness of the impossibility of possession”
This is true.
I skirt along the border of attainment,
feeling the thrill of nearly
and the ecstasy of almost.

The Split-second Poem

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Split-second decisions are full of lard and MSG and high-fructose corn syrup:
It’s calling you,
It’s saying yes,
It’s saying no,
It’s leaving.
I carry their weight for years and years
But no exercise regimen seems to exorcise the guilt compacted in me,
tumor-like, hanging from my bones
One idea disguised as inspiration or revelation or a stroke of genius
will be the last to leave me, stored in my gut,
sagging,
my lifelong hangover,
my tattooed asymptote.