Cell Division

Peace, it doesn’t thrive on growth
it’s conflict that takes naturally to
the idea of possession and expansion.

How often the fights we have
within ourselves get out of hand and
spill out into the wider world.

Where the path to reconciliation, once
much simpler, has branched out, circled
roamed, split, and split again, until
simplicity begins to lose its memory.

Cell division looks painful, does
it not, to a peaceful frame of mind.

But looks exciting and beautiful
to the enterprise, one becoming two
grow, it says, or die.

And we look everywhere but within
when, seeing it all spin out of control
we finally become desperate, and ask why.

it’s still here

a sour feeling in its stocking feet
the drip coffee brujo divining
a caffeine poultice in the
filter basket, his sweat lodge
as his supplicants pace the ceramic tiles
eager for blessings

a fitful sleep is begging to be recalled
to stake its claim on waking territory
already invaded by packs of wild obligations
our noses in our notes
obstacles of tempered steel loom
that still life painting
in the hallway taunts me
with its confidence, its sense
of fulfillment, its dubious claim
that things can bypass the madness
and simply come to rest

what appears to be real
does indeed appear as real
it’s all an inexhaustible network
of causality where even
impertinence is sustained
and the logic of what’s allowed
to be admired, or to be shunned
the judgment
ease back, ease up
the rough edges can be deburred
by the embrace of ease
and small talk, clinking glasses
can later be heard at
the judge’s chamber door
if you listen, really listen

that exquisite stillness just before dawn
I slept through it again
but it was here, it’s still here


I lift my glass to mental health
to mind: the source of matters

single pointed cache of wealth
when flesh and bone are tatters

I toast the peaceful, happy minds
of all you non-mad hatters

compassion’s light will loose the binds
of darkness as it scatters