Poetry: Airlock

airlock photo


Life; Death

Disaster days keep us alive.

We eat the dead. We burn the dead

and build from the dead, a fate

no cry of compassion can quit.

Disaster is the elixir of life, bringing

us to boil with adrenaline

until we feel on fire, so alive.

Complete peace only stagnates, dulls and deadens

as cunningly as poison,

and small sips make us all think we’re immune

but real salvation lies

in the terror of existence, where we live

just atoms away from death, always.

Here, there’s nothing to do but dance

between every breath

that could be our last.

Anything could happen.

It’s the disaster days that throw

us onward through time; it’s death

that gives us life until we die.



The leaping is easy: suddenly

she inhabits

no worlds, but vaults

their gaps; she sails

a life’s span, teasing

fear with homeless feet. Concealed

time-spans and space-spans await

her, promising to hold

her the way she dreams:

bound and unbound

all at once.


Little deaths

Last night I was happier than I have ever been in my life. And last night, I thought I was going to die.

But it didn’t have to happen that literally. We were out driving (of course), throwing apples to any deer or raccoon we saw along the way. I know feeding wild animals is frowned upon, but I think deer munch on fallen apples anyway, and we didn’t approach them. 

So I was spilling my guts to my partner, who, bless her heart, doesn’t think I’m crazy. But she was telling me I had to give up a few things I’d been obsessing about, and it hurt like hell. I felt distant from her, bawling my eyes out, and that was enough death for me. She means everything to me.

But everything we said and did and saw and heard had additional layers of meaning. Everything was clicking into place, making perfect sense. Even every song on my mix CD had new meaning. 

We came upon a dead rabbit, and that symbolized my death too. Then everything went dark and quiet for a while, and like I said, it was hell.

Then the deer came back again. See, deer is my primary spirit animal. In a way, I AM deer. I called out to it, “Have you come back to me now?” 

And all was beautiful. We saw another herd of deer nestled up sleeping (!) by the road.  Dreaming their deer-dreams.

I felt and said that all would be new again when I woke up in the morning. And it is. My favourite cat seems more orange and wild than ever. I’m changed too. 

Blessed be, blessed be.