Not sick and not well:
It’s a moderate hell
Of maybes and mostlys
And too-soon-to-tells
Where the only thing certain
Is not everything’s swell
Like a fall with no landing
Or a round with no bell.
Not Sick and Not Well
A Shadowed Caricature
Twisting and straining
For a meager sliver,
A mere hint of light
Until gnarled, knotted:
A shadowed caricature.
Blinded and awestruck
By an eager river,
An ocean of light
Until overjoyed, overrevealed:
A bittersweet conflict.
Progress: an Acrostic
Painstakingly gained
Retroactively visible
Operatically dramatic
Godot-ly subtle
Repetitively new
Everlastingly present
Suddenly lost
Simultaneously all
The Darkness Came Slowly
The darkness came slowly.
Not a sudden eclipse
Or flip of a switch.
It was a long, slow sunset
To an unending twilight:
So gradual and quiet
You never noticed the dark
Until the sudden glare
As light broke through
Not Seeing
“Just tread water!” they cry,
Not seeing the concrete on her feet.
“It’s hopeless,” you sigh,
Not seeing the lever within reach.
“It’s perfect,” she cries,
Not seeing the blood on the gem.
“Just forget it,” he sighs,
Not seeing the opportunity then.
