Data Set

Normally pragmatic, when

Forecasting my

Chances of success I

Diddle the analysis

Jig the numbers

Tweak the odds

In my little book are

Reams of records

Documenting just what

I can hope to do

An archive of compiled scores

Ample data here for accurate

Prevision

Instead I harbor sneaky hopes that

I might beat the house

Might deviate from

Second-class consistency

Refusing to accept that

Past is prelude

To the present

The best predictor of what happens next is

Just what happened last and

Time before and

Before that…

And that

Relentless linear projection

Squinting I can almost see the

Trend line inching

Up

Instead of level for

The longest time

With some infrequent

Spikes

Next time,

When I register my name and

Back my bag, my lunch

My blades

And set my expectations

I swear I’ll be hardheaded in my calculations

Really. Truly. Yes. 

Blessed Ignorance

Hunting truth,
I should stop here
Balanced at the limit of my tolerance for
Revelation

Any further and I risk
Losing myself in clarity
Flawless visions of what
I don’t need to know
About myself

I fear that
Absolute and utter verity would
Rob me of my dreams
Freeze my capacity to act

At the fuzzy edge
Demarcating
Vision from delusion
Miracles can happen

Like bumblebees, I cling to the illusion I can fly
Hey, it works for them

Scheherazade

“What, again?”
(You roll your eyes)
“I tell you this repeatedly
I am not speaking English?
You do not understand?”

Oh yes, Я понимаю
But spin the tale once more

Tell me for the umpteenth time how
Clever disengage wins out o’er savage parry
And fearless straight attack triumphs
Against the evil squirm

Fill my head with glorious tales of
Canny strategy, ingenious machinations
Perfect form

These stories I will carry
Through my sleep, the nucleus of
Epic dreams,
In which (of course)
I play the hero’s role

Так, да, I understand,
рассказывают мне
историю снова!

Day Residue

Composite fragments of the
Competition
Weave a night of dreams

Random play back:
Icy seep into my sock
Shards of broken blade
The musk and funk of
Multiple bananas &
Stab of cramps that come
Regardless

Threaded in a fictionalized net of
Wishful replay
Alt endings that will
Never change the past:
The crucial parry, made in time
The final touch—on-target
A brilliant strategy un-marred by
Faulty execution

Studded with random sweet, true snapshots:
A subtle disengage, and lunge
A sneaky squirm
A deadly long attack that springs from
God knows where
Certainly not practice

Acute embarrassments
Stutter and repeat
With perfect clarity
And merciless detail

Surfacing from sleep
The story thins
Gauzy details shred and
Reambiguate

Groping for the light
My hand closes on the cold, hard
Truthful
Outcome of the day

Proof that there is hope, along with
Ample room for improvement

Transmogrification

Somewhere I lost myself along the way

I thought I knew my hand...
And now I don’t

My foot a strange
Random appendage
Moving on its own
Appointed path

Passing the mirror I
Catch a stranger’s glance
And look away

Have I shed memory
Habits, inhibitions
Trimmed the edges of
Identity
Whittled down to my essential self

Or am I morphing,
Unhurried transformation to
An unfamiliar form?

And, (v. important please), if the latter
Is it an improvement on my former state?

Sleeping/Waking

Surfacing from crevassed dreams, I snap awake
To crisp air, chilled feet,
A scrolling list of obligations patterning the surface of my mind
Stones upon the clear streambed, mirrored in its flow
My thoughts gather, tumble and propel me up and over
Swing my feet to meet the floor—they sink beneath the boards,
I lurch, flail, fall and
Slam! Snap awake
To crisp air, chilled feet

I recognize my last awakening a dream
An utterly convincing fake, a mocked up world
That I, with absolute conviction, took for real
But now I am awake,
I think…
_______________________
Codicil

Stars wheel overhead
Briefly, life makes sense. Dawn comes
Insight slips away