joy and despair

i think pain brings out the best and the worst in all of us. but for poetry, even when overcome with joy there is an element of sadness-it can never be completely forgotten because it is the contrast between the two that makes them discernible, describable.

the gardens in the city

i walk past the gardens in the city every day; the landscape's array
of harmony and texture is wasted on the mannequins scurrying by.
the wily fountain plays mind games with me; it
sprays the air with a stale taste that reminds me of tea in a styrofoam cup.
the water whispers your name and wakes me up
as it cascades in sheets over the walls of stone,
making me even more aware that i am alone.

maybe tomorrow i'll take another route; it's spring. if there's anything
i can't deal with, it's rebirth-buds bursting open like firecrackers that
celebrate the season. winter's icy overcoat
melts away; earth floods, revealing the debris underneath-a mixed stash
of cigaret butts, paper and leaves. i crash
every year about this time. i'd rather see snow
in its sterile frigidity than what's buried below.

there's a hole in the sky where the sunlight ought to be. daylight, dimmer
than the night sky, drifts aimlessly down to my head; it has no warmth,
no luster. two little sparrows become lost in their mating dance-
i remember my empty bed. i never had the chance
to get to know you; how different life would look to me
if the two of us were here. i can't help but wonder if i
might have captured your heart. time flies mercilessly by.


zenio

i wish i could be innocent again. god, please dim the lights
so i won't see the puppets' strings or the stagehands in the wings.
i want to go to work, but there's no wheels on this bus,
no backs on the buildings, no you, no us.

i looked for the cure-a shot of the hair of the dog that bites
me to prove i'm not asleep. dead is better; be that, instead.
i need to live or die. this waiting is killing me,
but not fast enough, and not completely.

i want to return to my childhood, when there were wrongs and rights,
and rules to tell me how to be, what it took to be happy.
i could dream about a prince named Zenio; we would meet
and fall in love and life would be complete.

i hope for nothing now-there is no future, just days and nights
all in a row, always the same. there's no one to thank or blame.
i can never go back. my eyes had a glimpse of what lies
beyond The Veil and now they won't shut.

i lost my place in the garden of eden; the sounds and sights
no longer occupy me. lies and truth are both compromise.
i have no more questions. all my ties, cursed or blessed,
are broken, forgotten, or laid to rest.

i think there's nothing left undone; ocean depths and heights
of mountains, boundaries of space and time each put in their place.
i am watching reruns. they can drink; i can't pretend
not to know the story, i've seen the end.

i feel sick to death of sobriety. i witness their flights
of fancy doomed to fail with no way to explain how i know.
i ache with loneliness, when mercifully my heart
remembers; i am not-only Thou art.