Older, Yes

Each night when I go to sleep

I wake up a different person

Older, yes

Another unevident line in the

Corrugated line up of evidence

A new context of experiences

Different dreams

Than the night before

A fine balance faltered

Stability alchemized to risk

Hope cultivated, marinated

In the circumstance of moments

Folded to fit into my pocket

If I have room amongst

The other trinkets I cling to

Like unfloating life boats

Because stuff always sinks

And birds cannot fly

With backpacks

Clipped to their wings.

Bleached by the Moon

I am youngThough I look old More silver than brown Imprinted with non-linear Focus, non-stop worries Tattooed by UV rays And the stretching Of time, volumes of Blank books loaded With my affairs Collections of change I never saw coming Obligatory trauma Because easy costs Something I never Could find, now I am Quarantined like a Leper or a hermit Though it's not Contagions I seek To contain but risks I call blasphemy Selfish and ravenous For the youth I once Possessed in spades Bleached out by too Many super moons Emptied by too many Chances shriveled Like dead orchids No matter how much Water I drink in dreams Of a resurrection.