Springs and Fountains

shame for things I've never done
darkens each and every morn
—fountaining!
seems wellspring's not dry
much to my shame and my surprise
as I dry my dreary eyes
and strap on in for another ride



combinatorics and human hearts:
coy mathematics performed in the dark
some find connections some fall apart
some are renditioned some never budge
location weighs more than knowledge



Presuppose complexity
everything leading to you and me
math, genetics, history
and always the tyrant biology
Assume a life led seeking out
finding truths, removing doubt
I'll assume the same of you
now what on earth are we to do?



unlocked some old algorithms
I had entombed within
got me a passel of new tricks
she brings a vibrant new life's rhythm
a Lydia Grey who likes to chew sticks
as I scrape off old skin



poets wake with the dawn
poets stay up until everyone's gone
poets wander the smallest hours
looking at bugs and staring at flowers
a poet spends every moment of life
singing of truths in the sun and the night
Why Muses choose them? They are alive.



pest control arrived a bit late, it should have been fine
but the echoes were over, they'd spilled all the wine.
that wasn't fresh paint it was blood-fed red lines
an ant waved their antennae at the end of a spine
the irony was they were the same size as mine