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The Habbit

 

I, this cloud of photons

am drawn together by

the gravity of my eternal habit 

It appears, feels and fits like a

homespun, simple sort of robe

No longer do I sniff out vastness

in the armpits of this shift

but sometimes I still get a whiff of

the pheromones of shyness; at others

the sweet stink of humanness

 

The child, the girl, the woman

all broad-shouldered and as sure

and doubtful as befits a fragile Atlas

masked certainty veiling despair

as the home planet unravels itself

before these eyes like a loose thread

on the loom of Maya; she who laughs

deliriously amidst our unspinning dreams

 

Life has humbled this habit

fraying the hem of what once felt like

the cloak of destiny,

shredding its adornments

the singed plumage of the Phoenix

So many times I have found myself

immersed in ashes; the absolute dissolution

of illusion, tumbling through mocking

echoes into the depths of the cauldron

Reflections contorting in the halls of distortion

mirrors waving, molecularly unsettling

till now, no vision seems safe to cherish

only the day to day simplicity of

gentle love and growing kindness

 

Inevitably though,

some improbable form

arises again like an Easter rabbit

emergent from the voluminous hood

of this incurable habit; or else a spray

of glittering stars suddenly

flings itself from my pocket

temporarily blinding me. Once more

I am caught in the lure of creativity

            Immediately obedient      

these wondrous photons

recreate their shapes upon the

cosmic stage. I thought I had retired

from all this buffoonery and divadom

but that was the precise moment when

this unpredictable spark of glory

reignited…

 

Empty of desire, ecstasy arouses

the sleeping self. The clown

is sacred; helpless to the

will of her own eternal fractal

she keeps on dancing.

The song at least, is safe

there’s only one verse, they say

but laughing all the while

I hear another being born

even as I write.

 

I had better stop soon

or else you should stop reading

before galaxies start leaping from this page

and lure you on past the words

back into the folds of this my

eternally magical

shabby but

durable

habit

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