I took a shovel to life A sip

I took a shovel to life, seeking to
Clear away the false, weak, and untrue
I tossed television, plastic toys, and the Easter Bunny
Like a farmer bails summer hay
Then I hit more solid rock
Governments, Educational Institutions, Ideologies, Religion
But in each I found a crack
A flaw, ever so slight
Which my shovel would bite into
And cast it aside
As I dug closer to the heart
I found friendships, family, lovers
Finally finding the seemingly impenetrable
Was this the truth I was searching for?
By my shovel found burdens, obligations, and self-interested corruption
Any flaw, no matter how small still exists
And must be dismissed
I seek the truth, and refuse to relent
When the last rock removed
I stood in soul-dropping wonder

At nothing



Complete emptiness I dropped my shovel
Nearby and sat in my hole, lost
If everything has flaws, then what can be believed in?
I searched and now found nothing to hold solid in my hands
After a long silence I looked up
Noticing what I had been shoveling not through
Solid rock and dirt, but rather
Cloth
The criss-cross of threads that is riddled with holes
Imperfections, but their unity
Is stronger than their solitude
Making a net, a rug, a blanket
To hold you from the void

And each life adds its thread to the tapestry
Right alongside the holes, the weakness
The imperfection
For in life, it is vital
to believe in something, however flawed
for to believe in nothing is to fall
into that nothing

I know now, but if you ever wish to seek for yourself
I have a shovel you can borrow
You see I need it no more.

10 things about beards... A Sip

10 Things about beards I wonder about

Does it keep your neck warm? You never see a man with a beard wear a scarf in the winter.

Can it freeze in the cold just like a girl's hair?

What if beards grew up?

Do you ever wonder if something tragic has happened to the face under the hair, like a case of friendly purple spots, or a tiny flea circus set up residence?

Can they grow straight, wavy, or curly?

Can you flat iron them?

Does it ever tickle the wearer?

What exactly can you hide under there?

Is there a secret rivalry between bearded and non-bearded men?

Do you blow-dry it once you get out of the shower?

Bitter Wine...A Sip

We yield such a bitter wine
From two grapes purple
With life and round with juice.
Old friend of mine

When we were together
The sun shone bright
And the rain fell soft
Fertile days when anything happened

We laughed the wind
And called the sea
Our plaything rushing and abating
Bare feet over rock and sand

Our paths touched so long ago
Yet my heart feels only a moment
When the sea’s caress reminds me
And the wind whispers giggles

Many a mile I’ve walked
Without your calming voice
Despite the seconds and steps between,
Incompletion lives without you

It is a house built without one wall
Or breath devoid of air
The itches of a phantom limb
Or a day without a sunset

Feet Living...A Sip

An intellectual lives a life of mind
Stretching and twisting synapses and neurons until
Fast as lightning, it is able to answer any hypothesis
Mathematical, scientific, cultural, or theoretical

A laborer lives a life of muscle
Bending and pushing repeatedly until
Sinews thicken and grow tensile strong and
The bolt loosed, the house built, the car runs

The child lives a life of eyes
Absorbing and witnessing swirling action
From the screen, from the kitchen table, from the desk
Taking in all with equal parts

Yet there is sometimes a calling, so seductively deep
That pushes to live another life
A life deeper, savage, and noble
Not of minds, nor eyes, but of feet

It is a beast stirring in the confines of the chest.
It is an urgent thumping drive to run.
Go harder, faster, mad, and free
until you feel the heart boom
Within, a lighthouse beacon.

Surrender into the wide primordial knowledge
called instinct. Fear twitching waiting for
danger to pass its panther dark shadow before you.
Death elusive, omnipresent
Eat or be eaten

Run and run and climb, and hide.
Crawl through mud, eat with the sharp of your teeth,
feel the strain of your arms, the tremble of your legs,
and the bloody footprints of your mud caked feet.
Screams that know not language, only meaning.
Snarl, sweat, tear, rip, grasp, throw.
Hunt, run, survive, live, die.

Live as deep as your feet