Every everything
An onion full of stench
Sometimes appetizing
No telling when or how

Every everything
A packet no one’s read
A black hole paperwork
An answer in there somewhere

Dream or how it just is
Fantasy or operating system
Direction or illusory urge
Did the land itself just heave

Every everything
A doctor with a Doberman face
A mistake on its knees for your pleasure
Doors that open on walls that move aside

Welcome to the newest of new
Every everything’s changed
Will you carry a daisy or a dagger
We will need both 

Listening to
my old guitar
in better hands
than mine
causes no jealousy, 
only wonder;

it seems that every song 
ever played upon it
has been hiding in there
and all of them 
are now ringing
around this room

as if every yesterday
has found its voice again
in those hands and 
those strings.

If I let envy
stop my ears tonight, I fear
I may not be worthy
of seeking those songs
for myself tomorrow.

Mystery
upon mystery,

how we force
some creatures
into becoming
our dearest symbols;

then when the symbols 
become extinct,
our mythology
grow stronger, as if
the death of eagles
is irrelevant to the death
of all that we have made
the eagles stand for,

as if we never cared
for eagles in the first place
beyond what we
could make of them.