Tuesday, April 22, 2014


(Poetry Scales 5)

I don’t want to flirt
with incognito death
however she is
     made-up or how well she’s dressed
don’t want to arrive
     without having reached the end
the destination
without starting the race
paint this circumstance
     as some goal or end vision
as if sheer dumb chance
     were my guiding complusion

I don’t want to drift
just manage to exist
I don’t want to stall
     inert watching life spin past
I don’t want to fall
     under a spell while it’s cast
caught in a stupor
sad preoccupation
chasing a fable
     illusion bred with rumor
chasing my tail or
     some queue filing towards nowhere

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