Happiness

I don't like salt

On my watermelon.

I don't want my happiness

To be curdled.

Drops of wine

On the tablecloth,

Out of the glass

Raised in rejoicing.

Blood and frogs

Pestilence and darkness

Of the past.

A time has come

To raise the glass whole.

With nothing lost

And no one missing.

Erase the fear

Of the glass tipping.

There is always more

To refill.

A time to stop counting

Bruises and wounds

To breathe with my whole chest,

To dance with my whole self,

A time to love

My wrinkles and my creases.

To fill my mouth with laughter.  

Smooth the cramps of grief

And bury the hatchet,

Self-inflicted agony

Of loss and mourning.

It is time to open doors

And let in air and light.

While the candle still burns.

Inter-timing (The Day the Time Broke)

In the waltzing circle

At the Satan's party

One stray butterfly

Tripped over the hourglass.

The wheel of time

Tipped into the fountain

Of Randomness.

The puzzle of timelines

Shattered to pieces.

In the world of people

The hours got tossed up.

Arrows of confusion

Mixed up day and night,

Before and after.

The cracked paint

Of the old Matrix

Peeled off.

Leaving the world

Oh so naked.

So unashamed

In its brand-new nudity,

Leaving the heartbeat of fear

Slow, paced and hollow,

Blowing on our pale faces

Looking into the vacuum,

And watching it shatter.

And only the pulse of places

Continued turning on its axis.

Until on the other side

Of the breathing gap

Of the world's apnea

The beat re-started.

Reaching out

Through the intertiming

I can't feel you.

Please tell me

You'll be there

In time.

Lost in time

Sometimes time comes rushing in

A mountain river of silver white

Churning through you,

Rolling your pebbles.

Washing you clean

Of yourself.

There are days when it's a thundering giant.

Crushing skyscrapers,

Landing an iron fist on your throat

Tying your bowels in a knot.

There are those dark days

When time bleeds out of you slowly

Leaving scars that –

Oh yeah… -

Only time can heal.

And just some times

Are a butterfly sitting on your shoulder,

Raising and lowering its paper-thin wings.

While a prayer-song plays on your lips.

"Please don't go…

Tarry a while".

I'm counting time

Like a hundred-worth bills

That nobody could ever pay me back.

The currency that we pay with

For everything else.

Except when it's an endless cold ocean

And no shore can be seen.

If only there were lighthouses

On the shores of time.

Forever changing

Faster than you can blink,

The silk thread,

The thundering storm.

A treasure.