Thursday, January 13, 2011


resolved: we are all
born dying but that demise
intensifies when

we try to become
artists. we fall
faster when we chase

after what

money can never buy.
we fly too
close to the sun, thinking,

"i'm finally seeing
clearly," but we are not. our eyes
are on fire, and we are not

enlightened but blind.

beloved: there is nothing
to find, nowhere
more true than here,
and no one any more
illuminated than you.


Mike said...

Wonderful poem. A spot of warmth beauty after a difficult week at work.

Scott Hess said...

Whichever Mike you are, thanks much!

Kathy A said...

I see the influence of e.e. cummings - Beautiful!