Soup at Zuma

The air hums amicably.

Crisp Wednesday midnights

make for good company

on long-kneaded days as these.

Five dollars will fulfill their destiny

tonight, at Zuma on Old Woodward,

where a Pink-haired, wired thing

strikes a smile and the register drawer.

The Minestrone noodles fold

and slop over themselves, like the day,

working against their midnight hour

resolved to stay noodles long as possible.

There's no need to chew.

The small heap of vegetarianism works

its way down into my abyss and says,
"Goodnight," like the day

Tuesday Morning

This is the rhythm that never ends.

Each foot forward is progress;

Is Discovery

Of the topic we shan’t ever write of,

Architects of snappy culture.

Scrutinizers of syllables

Or so I've been told by some

And myself

(and disregarded many a time might I add).

I have watched sails burn in furious stride

And even burned my own in name of it.

(a few times in fact)

Holding ashes, I think we all contemplate

The cinders that stain our palms

That we so choose to inhale,

Harvesting cancer in our breath.

Gratefully, the ashes have cooled and settled

I walk with them in small jars,

Contained and appropriately labeled,

So not to jumble the contents

Or let it spill upon me and others

As I walk to the rhythm.

It is remarkably paced.

It is constant;

A heartbeat in meditation.

The Monster in the Mirror (VI)

There are two figures atop a summer hilltop
It is day... and sometimes night
One is a priest sitting in the grass
The other is a soldier swinging with their sword
They both have a Monster on their back

Their Monsters whisper of what they are
And what they shall become... what they shall not do.
The priest weeps for the fall of everything
The soldier laughs at the challenge of victory
The summer will be long

The two sit quietly unlike their world
Next to each other...
Ten thousand ways apart.
The priest wears black by nature
The soldier wears color by choice

The Monster knows me well
The Monster is my father
The Monster is my desire
But I vouch
The Monster shall never be my child