Same thing.

I would reinvent
My

Self

A thousand thousand times
In as many moments
As I can't

Stand

I would shake
My

Self

Biting with the teeth
Of my dilemma
And just shake this rat

Understanding

Violence yielding
Soft redemption
Tearing out new wholeness

Or
I would just reinvent
The

Wheel

God.

God is not a solution to your problems
He does not dissolve
He clings to the sides of each cup that he fills
And overflows onto your clean hands


God is not a gas
To fill every last space
God will contain himself
And won't push your walls without permission

God is not a liquid
He takes his own shape
Inside of every vessel
And invites you to join him
In the pool

God is not a solid
But his sharpness is unchanging
And his corners slice deeply
When you hold him with a violent heart

God does not fold you
Cleanly, crisply
Like an origami swan
Or crumple you for the wastebin
He turns you against yourself
Along unexpected lines
Without pinching the creases
He contains your uncontainedness
Your filled-but-empty space
Your drowning overflow
Your hardened resistance
And gives them grace to grow.

Take your breath
But do not keep it
Give it back
To Beyond
Where home
Belongs

You won't find happiness
Buried like bones in the deep earth
Of your pain
But perhaps in some idle
Unlooked-for corner
A bud unfurls
And finds your eyes instead.

Musings on Upheaved Markets and Downheaved Monies

When I watch the numbers fall
In my own wallet
And taste poorer air I'd sworn I put behind me
With each regular paycheck push

When I realised that savings
Are more noun than verb
And I dangle fretfully

A spider on a single silky thread

I see that in the balance

The world I hold is my own fragile creation

Dangling in the fickle breeze of entropy
Until at last my slippered grip falters
I fall upon gravity's sword
Only to find it a ploughshare

It isn't so much the distance
That divides us
But the distance
Within us
That holds on with trembling fingers
To the tiger
We daren't dismount

I am curled around,
Spun into myself
Engaged in unmaking
Of being unmade
I unfurl my hands
Against the universe
As if to halt the slipping sands
Or turn back the whole
Upon my axis
Only to be bitten by the gears
And curled against
The solid stuff
Which will hold no ears for argument

That which you seek

You will find

Has found its shape in you