light therapy

the box flickers with doubt
light tentative & unsure
white heat soft & brief
the promise of healing
fleeting & tenuous
electrons run
nowhere else to go
to the retinas
to the hypocampus
to the disease-center
warding off the evil
voodoo, trickery
biology

the light now steady & strong
streaming to the face
sure of itself
knowing its purpose
smiling & healing
its destiny fulfilled
the mouth is upturned
as it soaks in the waves
fighting the grey
winning

praying

gold & cream fabric
miles & miles of fabric
covering the secrets
no one sees underneath
only the few

imposed life
rules for the mentally inept
for harsher times
square into round
guilt creeps

judging, judging
black & red eyes
from the pews
from the aisles
but no one knows

god is mine
i try not to surrender
those who would steal
worshipping
warped images
of a world gone
of a book from another place

their god is dead
mine might be alive
let him breathe
contradiction breeds guilt
each day
intellect vs faith
science vs belief
sense vs fantasy
religion vs reality

let it go
set it free
my god longs for me
for me to be free
of pain
of doubt
of fake faith
of forced ideals

longs for me
to accept
to celebrate
to embrace
to help
to reach

to live

resentment breeds hate
hate is the opposite of love
the negative of the spirit
religion is misery
misery is unnecessary
god hates misery
my god hates religion

whitegreyblack

colors gone
no fuschia
puce
seafoam
cadmium
mustard

brighter & brighter
brightest
just a dream

reality looms
pale
transparent
colorless

a photograph
2 dimensional
lacking depth
a movie
images going by
a screen
a filter

greyscale
absence of everything
lacking
negative
opposing
contrasting only itself
fading
all but gone

Next Time

paper white skin & fragile bones,
she tried desperately to stand.
the satin of her white slippers fraying,
loose strands of hair tickling her face.
balance eluded her each time.
memory of the basic skill gone,
like a handicap.
like an amnesiac,
she simply lost the ability to recall
not just the basics of the skill itself,
but that the balancing act was even possible.
that she would ever be able to stand,
let alone walk on the rope.
that the combination of her anatomy
and the rope
had the innate capability of performing this act together.
she tried so hard to remember.
after each time, she tried to remind herself.
as if this knowledge would somehow comfort her during her time of suffering.
as if it would ease her mind,
the knowing that it would come back.
knowing that she would find the rope again.
that her fraying shoes would somehow hold her,
that she did not need the net below.
that all she needed was faith.
if only she could somehow remember next time...

protein

Calcium on dust
painted white bones
brittle strands of glucose
held together with a whisper
faint as a memory
fragile non-matter
almost not there
gone with a breath
icicles from the wood
hit the earth and shatter
no one notices
gone into water
part of the eco
no longer its own
part of the whole
no choice

DissonAnt StrinGs

guts tight
cringeing eyes
lips pursed
falling grey matter
into the abyss
tired
an ache in the nether regions
the unreachable place in the mind
sunDay
the non-day
the night of night
mysterious chords
enforce the dread
move the bile
clench the fibers
pray for relief
pray pray pray

itch

an itch
the protein of the fingernail
is not enough
alleviates
and
aggravates
bitter
and
sweet
pleasure
and
pain
organic on organic
like moves toward like
cells & electrons
plasma & protons
serum & cilia
yin
yang

Night-Cottage

Playing
like an African child in the red clay
Lilac fields
fill me up
it is not real
but it helps
and they are there
in the cottage
down the road
it's un-real
only in the grey folds
in the electro-stimuli
but they are there
i feel
it helps
angels
i sleep

Anger

Knocking, banging, clanging...
it comes when it wants
like a socially-awkward dinner guest
with a bouquet of wilting posies, a bottle of rancid cider
uninvited, nowhere to sit
with the rudeness of senility
it makes me laugh
inept, embarassing
inevitable
it bursts forth
there is no reason
there is no place
it has no place in this world

Un-nature

What to do when insides turn out 
When blood skin reaches air
When the burn is too shocking
When even the still air makes it too hard to be
When the flesh no longer performs its function
When the organ is pulled away by force
Exposing the red - the fresh, the tender
That which was not made to be in contact with the air, the world
That which cannot survive but with the protection of what is now gone
What to do?
When wounds should be fatal but are not
Some call it "miraculous"
It feels wrong
It cannot be
It is unnatural
An anti-miracle
Should not be allowed
Nature should not be fragile
But fragility... well, that is the nature of things
It is unnatural