Neal

the heart spins
counter clockwise and
out of control

at times like this
your eyes filled with ash and
splinters of love gone wrong
you must fly by instrument
alone

your gut
so long ignored
will tell you where
to go

and all of my mistakes became
the color of
your hair.

i write you now
from a place of familiar
pain.

the scenery has changed
again
but the plot remains
much the same:
senseless and
tragic
with a touch of the absurd.

hello, old friend,
so nice to see you again.
how have you been holding up
beneath the weight of this
brave new world?

the stars are quiet tonight.
from where i sit
even the moon
finally
seems tongueless

and there is a vacancy
wider than the sky
lodged firmly
in my heart.

nonetheless,
it seems so strange
to have come so far
only to arrive at

nothing

as my skull vibrates
with Greek myths and
ancient Chinese tales

I remember Faulkner saying
that it was good that they put love
into books
because it could not survive
anywhere else

and I still hear Leonard
singing
“I’m glad you stood in my way.”

and i understand that
and more.

i do.

but all of it
ultimately fails
to comfort me
now.

my eyes are ringed with sickness
and wet with
pain

i might have gone and swallowed
too many
rainy days

there is a place that you finally come to
that you can only reach
alone

from there the view is majestic
sublime and
terrible

you see all of the beliefs
old and new
all the structures of thought
theories
rules and laws

you recognize them all
finally
for what they are

chains
cages
prisons

and collecting yourself
you empty your mind
of all the garbage
the previous generations
heaped on you

you wipe your eyes and
you smile and
you begin
again

you push on
unencumbered