haunt memory

an infant’s eyes

and what’s behind

how about when love’s denied

for the first time

the longing for milk

that look of anger

will it haunt memory

at what age will judgement

seize the child

the separation

the absence

the labeled cardboard boxes

filling the otherwise empty room

 

this is the change

that does not come about

 

this is the thought

of forgiveness lost

 

to the void

 

and yet love remains

even if it’s battered and abstract

An Average Urban Journey

urban prayer haiku

hail mother of grass

un-virgin soil saturates

with robotic tears

when destruction comes to bear

music transforms into a portal

into your past life

into the love you felt

into the thoughts

you barely remember

life becomes meaningful

when destruction

comes to bear

by and by

it happens always

just sometimes you don’t notice

you die each day

when the happiness

you almost grasped

keeps loitering

when humans

who no longer live

feel so close

and yet they’re

the furthest

they could possibly be

visit the grave

in your mind

spread the ashes

across your chest

fear the thump

thump thump

from the inside

of the vacant room

the footsteps stomping

from the apartment above

of the old man who never sleeps

he knows when you have sex

he knows nothing is sacred

cringe at that brush on the back

of your neck

while you’re facing

the desolation

of an electronic filled room

stubbornly refuse implants

retain biology

die again and again

keep dying

until death itself dies

An Average Urban Journey

Bodies litter stained floors

in this subway station as the head

piercing drone of trains rush

through tunnels, an anonymous man

throws his own body in front of a machine,

is crushed by unimaginable force.

I am unaware of this, sitting inside

the beast that killed this human.

We stop for a few moments,

a robotic voice announces

that there’s been organic

difficulties. The world won’t stop

and so we’ll move on after more machines

clean up the mess. There is nothing

to say about the dirt speckled

baby blue tiles that adorn the wall

I stare at beyond the blurry advert

that encases this compartment.

We begin to move again.

This is what happened:

we said nothing mattered

enough times that it actually came true.

Only a few don’t separate meaning

from life now. Emerging

from the underground I found

a poem in the sky then followed

my sour gut, ignoring more crumpled

bodies along sidewalks. Heavily armed

police everywhere. A rich and powerful

person enters an ancient marble temple

on 17th street. I walk towards the source

of spotlights roaming skyscraper walls

and then sit in a fabricated park to lick

the invisible moon above us with my feeble

thoughts. Again I get up to wander and worry

about death, then remind myself to allow

my feet to guide the rest and arrive

into the unknown.