A Tribute to the Invisible Light

Similar fears follow ego-maniacs
parading around as poets
in the mundane masquerade
as do a like-minded reader
whose solipsist eyes flick flick flick
over glosses & wonder
when we get to the good stuff
while a fool dances his way
around a kitchen
finalizing a homemade meal
(Mom’s recipe)
for yr tired mind, singing:
anyone for everyone
everyone for I


I am the date
you never asked for

& I’m really no good
with time:

it escapes me & everyone
when I’m around

Don’t ask how.
Simply be worthy

of this no-time
& the life hid herein

There’s reality
somewhere in all

this & you may wonder
if words 
could be as real

from the voice
as from the hand

(from theirs as yrs
from anyone else’s)

or if it’s all some
dead dog’s dream

another’s childish game,
that same old cosmic joke.

You may never know
that I was here. You may feel

differently: maybe
 so much
dinner-talk foreplay

& footsie through the ether.
You may wonder if

this is as much about you
as you believe it might be
                                                  (it might be)





I am cleaning up
the kitchen. You are

picking at the plate
(polite enough to oblige)

too proud to be honored
too busy thinking

yr goddess’s gift
to all humankind

to recognize this feast
was about the maker as well

The intention was set
as the table, the guest

you & any anyone
who would have sat down.

It is always you
& someone else

It’s always both of us
& a tiny nation of admirers

Don’t be upset.
Ethical slus like us

were born to roam
& spurn worship

where too readily available,
born to chase other’s tails

to wonder about sexy exes
devoid of poetry & poise

to wonder if their fleshy bodies
are finally warm enough

to hold us, if their hands
are ready to appreciate

what once we offered
to them, 
if our numbers

still haunt them drunk
nights on the contact list.

You speak nothing of any
You let me let myself out

of my own house
& give you the key.

The last somebody
to hear me sing

ran to one wise
enough to keep silent

She kept her eyes
on the clock

she never even
picked up her fork

But you – you have chosen
the better thing.

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