The Shape in the Stone

Each day I chisel

The rough surface of this rock,

Trying to find the

Sculpture. I chip off

The words I don’t want to say,

“I don’t feel close to

You right now,” “I take

Pills to make life bearable,”

“If I could run, I

Would.” Another chip.

“I know you sense the dread in

Me, but haven’t the

Words to express it.”

“My best days are behind me.

They flew past while I

Was waiting for some

Validation that didn’t

Come. There is less of

Me each day.” I would

Rather die with these words not

Said, than hurt any

Of you. Alas am

I fated to wound you to

The core. Chip, chip, chip.

What Have You Really Loved Till Now?

“Your real educators, those who formed you, reveal to you what is the true primary meaning and fundamental substance of your being … Your true self does not lie deeply concealed within you but immeasurably high above you, or at least above what you usually take for your ego.” Nietzsche

What I love is the

Neat, obedient, well made.

Miniature, fine

Tuned, durable, marked

By craftsmanship. Intricate,

Smelling of old wood

And discipline. Love

I also the raw, untamed,

Unshorn, tacky, and

Tawdry, unabashed

And simple, open and free.

Wild, naked, real.

I am Apollo

And I am Dionysus,

Sharing a lifetime.