Without A Self

Where would we be

if we were one

without a self?

Perhaps our kitchens

would be less dated;

our calendars would be

slashed with checks

and thorough lines.

The women in line

at the deli counter

would struggle for some cash

and reverence,

pay up on gas and tobacco.

The little boy on 6th street

would not waver

from the line he drew

in the sand at his waterfront

beach house, asking why it is

the water must turn over

and over–

and, like a switch,

we turn to the next page.

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More Than Me

If

to feel

is the only

thing that’s real

what’s my house

doing catching on fire

from my thoughts alone?

    

We

all want

to know whether

right and wrong can fit

together under one roof

and yet we sing on in the rain

free of dreams and promises

only embracing the chance

to live and breathe.

    

To

know imperfection

is to know ourselves

to realize our existence

is to acknowledge happiness

and perfection manufactured

into one, unperfected presence:

to believe in all matter more than me.

   

August 14, 2014