APPLY THEME

Rampant Tenderfoot
Current Protector
Inaccurate Lingo
Leisure Removal
Forward Thinking
Ash and Fire
Ash and Fire
Ash and Fire
Dark Wood
Deep Ocean
Magic Paper
Drinking DNA
Black and White
and Red All Over…

WHITE MILK SUBSTITUTE

Am I a shadow of a man if I cast none of my own?
Are we the sum and total of eight essential ingredients,
minus emotional baggage and excessive wear and tear?
If we can split the atom, the logic goes, we should be able
to gut the infidel and point his entrails to
True North. We should be able to find ourselves
on the face of the compass, by the bias of magnetism
alone. I’m all for short term myths, but we’ve
got to get the order forms right. One slip can lead
to a simple paper cut, which in turn could lead tothe slow, onion-like unraveling of my cover identity,
and since I don’t go much further than skin deep,
that’s not a view I want to keep.

INCOMING FEVER DREAM

The eyes may play tricks,
but the mind’s got its’ games
rigged; one way in, many ways
out, and it’s up to individual
participants to rend the veil,
to ignore the hallways filled
with unemployed centaurs
and harlots, the avatars being
stripped of their momentary mantles,
crucibled in fire and restarted again.
What is really real is really
not the point. It’s how you
navigate the system.
It’s your fever. It’s your verdant
forest to burn to the ground.
We supply matches, blowtorches,
even premium vintage napalm.
One way in, many ways out.
Proceed.

to-do list has me

approaching paralysis.

I did something else.

(haiku by Doug Roussin)

THE MOON AIN’T NEW

the rust-colored moon
grown old in a brief eclipse
I almost missed it

REDO/NEED YOU

I keep hitting the button,
but nothing ever happens.
Or, rather, it keeps happening.
The uninterrupted flow, the intake.
No pause. I can’t find the pause.
I want to hire a security consultant
to look back at our less guarded
moments for points of entry.
I want to second-guess my third
personality, I want in.
I want a frame, and some bubble wrap,
and a one-use tranquilizer dart
to help capture the moment.
I keep hitting the pause, but
nothing ever happens. Or, rather,
it keeps happening…

MEMORY CHECK

So many of us gather at the checkpoint,
our fingerprints frayed at the edges,
smudged, indiscriminate, our identities
already a muddle, currency a second guess.
We hurry through, busy shadows inside
a larger frame work. We are afraid
to be empty, but we had to leave
so much behind. Memories are what
weigh the most, dragging us beneath
the roiling tide. Now, new ones
are being supplied, to anchor us here;
entire stock photo galleries of family
and friends, pinned to our tattered collars.
There are PowerPoint back story presentations,
seminars on the ties that bind, helpful hints
for awkward small talk around the kitchen table.
It is dizzying, a burden and a release at once.
To be able to point at a blank spot on a page
and say, “The story starts here…”