Daily Archives: April 27, 2016


A certain level of fatigue
has become required
for credibility.

Express your freshness
and willingness to get going on something
and you will be made to feel small.

There will be disbelief
followed by knowing chuckles
and head nods, murmurs of

“newbie, naive, that’ll change,” perhaps
a grudging offer from someone
to take you under their cynical wing.

Don’t do it.  Don’t fall in.
Run screaming from them and don’t lose
a minute of sleep over it.

You’re wide awake and you still believe
in daylight and morning.  Hold on to that.
As far as can be told, there are no plans

for that to ever end while we’re alive.
You’re awake. Stay awake. You’re refreshed.
Stay refreshed. Dark things are afoot, it’s true,

but you shine, and you reflect so much else that shines
that there’s a chance, a real chance, 
that some part of what we need dwells with you.

The Day I Opened My Mouth

Emptied by the force
of breaking a bad habit,
I’ve crumpled a bit — a slight 
deformation only,
a temporary folding
of internal time and space
by the suddenness
of the vacuum.

I can never return to
my first shape,
never again
be smooth and shiny
and ready to hold
whatever is offered
or poured into me,

but I will expand.
I will return to my 
full capacity, or at least
I will expand enough
to contain my expected
multitudes; at least, that
is my intent. If somehow

it is never met, if somehow
I remain this crushed — 
or worse, if I break open along
a seam or sharp fold and must then
be tossed aside, it will be

intent that carries me
to an end I am meant for 
if my purpose and impact

I will not pretend on that day
not to be 
but I will never say

I did not know it was coming,
and I will not regret the day
I opened my mouth
to pour out for good
what I’d borne for too long.