Halloween repeat

Hollow Cavity

the rot of ages could not enlarge,

then and now no heart to know compassion.

I was that murderer, that blank stare,

the beast inhuman that villagers burned,

the tale parents spun for truant children,

the terror at night, her eyes wide and sightless in the dark.

I was the coward's knife from behind

tracing that second smile,

the hard unflinching fingers at her neck,

the menace in the shadows,

unseen, unblinking, unwavering,

waiting for the moment,

that instant of inattention she gave to me.

Your Kind buried me,

continues to bury me,

when you find me.

Yet somehow I am here.

Somehow I see you.

All.

Maximize your way to Hell

I was thinking today about the glut of things out there that can, somehow, if you use them correctly, make it so that every second of your day is productive. Make it so that people will take photos of you at various times of the day and insert them into PowerPoint presentations on how to be frikin' awesome. Yeah, if you will just download one more app you can not only solve the world's problems you can reduce the number of tissue squares required to wipe.

This occurred to me as I was reading a blog and then another blog about social networking and being the writer of today.

So, take this for what it's worth. I am well aware that I haven't made it to the NY Bestseller's List. I am not a household name. As Chris Farley would say, "Maybe I don't 'own a toothbrush,' and maybe I can't 'reach all the parts of my body,'" but I do have an opinion about this.

Winter creep

I am warm.

It is cold.

Outside there the enemy.

I see it in the snow on the ground,

the gray filter of overcast

a blanket blue of varying hue,

crisp like celery,

ice breaking, snapping somewhere.

I am warm and wonder

what inherited guilt is mine,

like winter cold should rule

no molecule bound or slowed.

It is the season circle some progenitors knew

I feel new again

I feel new again

the air tastes like morning

like AM sun shines clear and mild

bright heat a hint in sight

but not on my skin

meadow vision, pond

unspoiled nature now

here even surrounded in city

centered lower than that grasping tasker

that worry of my own

my ownership, what I own

what I wish

the flow downward to my heart

direction reversing

losing myself not finding

listening to another's wisdom

again, happy again

until I forget to remember.