Archive for February 8, 1993


Posted: February 8, 1993 in Poetry
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I have never felt power like this:
the strength to bear people’s friendship
without the artifices of forging my emotions
like the signatures of the dead
on a current document.

I find I’m liked for who I am
not everything I claim to be or wish I was;
pretense has always dampened the fires
that I was wanting to stoke;
I find the call is honesty and enthusiasm.

As soon as I found myself wonderful,
I couldn’t wait to show it of by being so –
no longer shivering in trying to be magnificent
so that I seem wonderful, I see myself
wonderful so everything I do from
my clear mind, my open heart, is wonderful.

The recognition of emotions for what they are
no matter how much they hurt in their true forms:
guilt or anger; shame, sadness; pain and love.
is a truth I must learn to find.

The Skeletal Tree

Posted: February 8, 1993 in Poetry
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there is a tree at home
in the Wooded Area,
a community so old
that it has no sidewalks,
no curbs,
and many trees.
there is one tree
on the corner of Dupont
and Silvergate Streets
that is hollow underneath
its splayed boughs.
it is an upside down cup
or a limp starfish
but sometimes at night
the branches underneath the bowl
look like skeletal ribs
and the drooping limbs
look like hanged men
in the dark.

Wind in my Eyes

Posted: February 8, 1993 in Poetry
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where can I run to?
I am hiding from myself again.
I can’t turn around without feeling
what I’ve done and where I’ve been.

I’m falling away and I fall through your sky
I see the ground coming up and I forgot how to fly.
you taught me before and I never knew why
but now I’m falling and falling with the wind in my eyes.

I wander around in a daze
feeling strange about myself
I’m trying to keep my stomach level.
I’m trying to think of something else.


who knows where I’m going
maybe I’m just a crazy guy
but it feels more like being in love
than going out of my mind.

[unsung Pus and Zero Boy ditty]