Against Anxiety

You go with the push

of irregular winds,

with sun a brilliance

and a sorrow,

with a drifting of old friends

and a sprouting of new.

 

You go beneath

the beckoning moon,

under the stoic moon,

below the amber moon

and the unfathomable sky.

 

The rhythm in your ears is the throb

and drum of other hearts,

the wax and wane of yours,

the hum of remix and renewal.

 

You go to dream the dreams of others

and to find that they dream yours,

and you and they are hope and loss

and joy and struggle and the next great step ahead.

Aging Poet Maps Near Future

 

The old get-up get-down

lost the beat,

the run-start run-stop

sticks on stop,

the go-quick gear

lost its teeth,

and the locks

on the Urinary Canal

broke down

at bottom.

 

But the laboratory

that develops 

all the work-arounds,

fueled by gratitude

for gifts received,

shared, given, remembered

and forgotten,

still invents the plow-throughs

and ways-around

wreckages and potholes.

 

Switched-on requires

deliberate decisions

in constant defiance

of switched-off

and, so, go.

Go on.

Against Anxiety

You go in certainty that mystery

will fill your lungs.

You go with the push

of indecisive wind,

with sun a brilliance

and a sorrow,

with a drifting of older friends

and a sprouting of new.

You go beneath

the beckoning moon,

the stoic moon,

the amber moon

and the unnamed sky.

The rhythm in your ears is the tap

and drum of others’ lives,

the constant beat of yours,

and the subtle song around

of remix and renewal.

You go to dream the dreams of others

and to find that they dream yours,

and you and they are hope

and loss and joy and struggle
and the next great step ahead.