fragment

I wish I could fragment myself,

Split myself in two,

In twelve,

In one hundred and forty four thousand,

In order to take on the suffering

Of each and every one of them:

The disaffected.

The disenchanted.

The disenfranchised.

The depressed, the isolated, and the melancholy.

The used, the abused, and the broken-hearted.

The maltreated.

The malnourished.

The maladjusted.

To each and every one of them,

To each and every one who hurts,

Who spends each day in flames,

I would reach out my hands and say,

"Let me hold you.

Place your heart in my care, and I will guard it for you.

I will make it my own.

I will burn in your place."

I would suffer,

and they would be made whole,

and learn how to love and to live,

and to teach and to give,

and to fragment themselves in order

to teach others how to fragment themselves

and to heal themselves and to give of themselves

so that they might one day, too,

watch after the hearts of others.

fog

The fog devours the world today,
Gray and voracious,
Like a swarm of mosquitoes feasting
On the salt-streaked flesh of summer revelers

It eats and eats and eats and eats,
Whatever thought or care,
Whatever sympathy or empathy
It might otherwise have for its prey
Completely subsumed by the desire,
The burning desire,
The endless desire,
The burning and endless desire
To sate its burning and endless hunger

What was there now is gone,
Enveloped,
Entombed in an endless gullet, waiting
Waiting
Waiting
Waiting to be digested

It may return one day,
The world, one day,
Some day,
On a better, sunnier, happier day

But for now,
The buildings,
The cars,
The people within who live their lives and kiss their wives,
Who hug their children,
Who walk their dogs and pet their cats,
Who pay their bills and prepare their wills,
Who have Facebook profiles
And twitter feeds
And smartphones
And data plans
And heartburn
And ulcers
And migraines
And hypertension,
Who have master's degrees and GEDs,
Who have mortgages and 401ks,
Who have a tenacious grip on financial security
And a constant yet ill-defined sense of unease
Are gone
All gone
Every single one of them
Devoured by the fog

chili limerick

Oh, cumin and spice make a flavor

That's incredibly easy to savor

When consumed with a spoon

It is gone far too soon

But it's worth all the hours of labor

cats

Three cats cried out
     in the middle of the night.

One hissed.

Then all was silent.