this month I began a new cycle

of creation--resignation--perpetuation.

who am I, and who are you?

if only I knew, if only I knew:

what more there is to me,

what more there is to be.

swept up by music beyond measure,

the undulating rhythmic grace

unifying time and space,

has fettered me in place, but my pace

spirals off beat. I can’t stay in my seat;

my feet stick on repeat repeat repeat

defeat: that aggravating deceit

replaying in my mind until I find

some logic, a rhyme or note or fallacy

to balance out the scale for me

so the past will remain behind, not rewind--

these fluid moments weren’t cast to last,

but the meter won’t abide--

whatever the frame, they’re all the same

past, present, and future collide

consolidating into a single somnolent hush

so this slue of thoughts ebb with a rush

of exhaled energy, shifting from neurosis to narcosis

in an instant, distant and resistant, and

so, so quiet but still not still, anything but

still--

what do you fear, and why

are you afraid? let’s continue the charade

for both of us, it is one word, two syllables:

Myself. Yourself.

the answers come as questions.

who am I? Myself.

who are you? Yourself.

can it really be as simple

as the barbwire dimple

in your smile, or the pallor

of my skin--the drive to win,

your prejudices, my addiction,

our mutual love of fiction,

plums, and popcorn, or our differing view

on life, spontaneity, and what is true?