Tuesday, July 1, 2014

without


the raven is within, and without,
as a soundless scream,
a silent shout,
he's turned around
and stretched out.

without entering
he stands in the middle
of somewhere to elsewhere:
realizing his shape-shifting
is a becoming, but severe gifting.

he feels too much too often
finding always too much to feel
and all much too close
and all much out of reach -
a lasting, familiar ordeal.

he can’t stop from leaning
on all that invested comfort
(his great deceiver)
making him a believer
in his self-authored script.

distracted dreams
collect at his feet:
a warmth drained of color,
beautiful in their gathered decay,
safe there for yesterday.

oh, how he wishes he could stay!
but, he already feels far away.
and the cookie cutter steps
have rusted in the rain,
leaving him within and without.