I draw the bowstring to my cheek

The sturdy wood. It trembles in

Excitement, like a starving wolf

That aches to pounce upon its prey

The gentle bowstring, whispering

A cry of pain. It strains to hold

This weight, this aching strain, this pain

I feel upon my tired frame

Release, a craving felt by both

The man and its machine. Release!

The arrow flies, and bow and string

Return to peaceful sleep. And I,

Still fighting, nock another shaft

There is no rest, there is no pain

There’s only me, a target, and a gain



Protean, ever changing form

And face. Conversion breaks this pace

Of dreary conversation, dulled

From worn out laughs and wrinkled lines

Perhaps to break monotony

I need to change, like currency

Thus paper paves the way to coin

And heavy is the weight I bear

And yet the value is the same


Upon the blackness I can see

The stars, the heavens, infinite

In all its beauteous majesty

Revealed to me and me alone

Forever, drifting like a stone

Cast into heartless sea, cast off

From mighty rock and land, my home

My tether. Once a convict’s chain

To hold my wings in check, I thought

I long for home. No longer trapped,

Yet seeking comfort in embrace

Caress, a kiss before I sleep

A hand that I could reach, once reached

But now as distant as the stars

That lie in wait before my eyes

What worth is heaven’s prize for me

If I must float in agony



One day, I found a wrinkled note

A worn page torn from ancient books

The ink has run, the white page gold

With age, and lined like elder brows

In hand, I take the ends and fold
Together, edges meet at last

Like long lost friends returned once more

Or lovers sharing one last kiss

Or parents wrapping in embrace

A once-lost child returning home
Again, I fold and shape and hide

The ugly wrinkles of the past

Give way to neater, newer lines

The page transforms into a plane

A tiny thing upon my hand
I cast it out into the wind

It struggles like a newborn bird

But it takes wing and soars so high

It disappears into the clouds

Who knows what message it once bore
But one last journey, one last flight

And one last glimpse of bluest sky

Is all I can provide, and nothing more


To make a difference starts

With change, deduction, and

Subtraction. Children’s math. 

Removal of excess

Shall brew a new success

A purging of unkind

Behavior and of thoughts

Of jealousy and hate

May not a better world create

Perhaps instead a peaceful mind

To start with is enough