i have never been one to let scabs heal,
so how can you expect
me to let this pass painlessly, fade
into a diminished humanity?
i think really what i wanted was a
cataclysm, catharsis,
but all your outstretched hand withdrew
was a sunset, crimson glow fading
to leave goosebumps on a hard-worn dignity.
The last throw
went to balance, and though
she tipped her hat
to fire, to ecstasy and wild joy,
i’m left behind in a frosted limbo, wondering
where i will find dancing stars
now, surrounded by this nebulous,
ebbing reality.
chaos
if Lorenz had dreamt in color
Chaos, indifferent,
leans back against a faded brick wall,
gray smoke matching gray air,
flecked strands of his head uncovered against the cold.
Thoughtful, thoughtless,
flicking burning embers to a muddied ground
where they die, each, an inglorious death
among footprints and soda cans.
He exhales and looks
in at grudged and paned windows
on a caged smile:
Chaos, infected
with the melodrama of his forbears,
caught between definition
and eternity;
a no-longer youth,
not yet wise.
Intractable, remorseless,
a precise instant
in jeans and mismatched socks.
Distracted by a flicker of butterfly wings
etched with destiny in black and gold,
he ducks,
brushes the spiderwebs
out of his hair,
maybe even winks.