because i am too exhausted to write prose.
mad rejoinders, wonders,
eyes and hearts forward, brothers:
the changes may come coldly now,
if you have dreams, write them down.
let no openness go closed.
let each petal of each rose
be lined and counted.
punching through paper walls, seeing stars--
dizzying work, shifting walls--
we do not enter these rooms to stay.
it could not be another way.
help your friends and sons get fed, spin the wheels for daily bread,
you cannot ever win this game.
could it be another way?
--we do not enter these rooms to stay.
voice in the wilderness
honeyed and wild-eyed
no rock: a storm, a madness,
a tearing-down of
the made ways and clean days
of the wide world.
unstable as they come, this bravest one:
to pave the way for love so great
a world must be unmade.
who loves the unmaker?
who praises change?
so, lonely goes the prophet.
now who could bear such weight?
well, one thing i can say for the (ahem) tumultuous relationship i have been fully and passionately engaged in for the past month....at the cost, perhaps, of just about everything else in my life....is that it has made for a surge in creative output. five new songs, dozens and dozens of rather awful poems, lots of sketches, several batches of naturally-dyed herbal-scented playdough to keep the kiddies happy, and so on. also i now have an electric guitar.
that counts for something, right? sublimation or bust.