He claimed to harness energy, not found,
imagined, but not measured from the ground,

and from the positive of cells now known,
like energies our knowledge in has grown,

The energies, all positive, that flow,
so do, unblocked by furniture for show,

and by the absence of the negative,
slow-shooed by candle color, scent it gives,

This he believed and now more so believes,
unmeasured energy that comes and leaves,

is in all things and is all things in form,
for every form is energy in dorm,

and now he looks at everyone the same,
as patterned energies upon a plane.


(C)2013, Christos Rigakos

my love and i, while pondering one's death,
          and counting all the ways which one may die,
discussed what happens after one's last breath,
          exhaled into the void of empty sky,
discussed the many ways a man may go,
the best and worst of ways which we both know,
          which do allow or stifle one's goodbye.

she asked, just playfully, how i should die?
          i thought of it, and i began to say:
"i'd shrink to four inches and here i'd lie,
          and you'd just walk and go about your day,
and as you'd come my way, you'd spot me here,
with gladness and without an ounce of fear,
          you'd step your heel and crush me on your way."

with furrowed brows she asked me then, "but why?
          of all the many ways you'd choose this one?
and why choose me to cause your life to die,
          i'd be to you a weight so many ton?"
"because," I said, "how fitting it would be,
that my dear crush should crush the life from me,
          as every day her loveless smile has done."

with eyebrows raised, quick lowered, she agreed,
          she understood i understood her well,
in truth her selfishness was fueled by greed,
          unhidden, she admitted this to tell,
"it's true, i have not been a dear of late,
and for you i no longer palpitate,
          so i'd agree to end you with this spell."

"please let me know if you have found a way,
          and to your wished-for end i would oblige,"
she answered, clicking heels she walked away,
          i watched her shoes slam down and quickly rise,
in sync to my own heart this heartless lass,
who found me lacking, of a lower class,
          had spoken truth concealed within her eyes.


(C)2013, Christos Rigakos

I cotton on
to the word
wordless

wanting
to respond
to the murmur

my mother swears
a certain crow
has carried

to a still
standing
cross

(the crow itself
not unreal
but akin
to the bygone
bicep
of our
jesus)

-

I cannot share
the dream
I have

but can
its populace

-

mom, when I meet god
for the first time
I will recognize
god.

mom, sickness has only one lover.  how sad.

     here are my slack
but bed-hopping
hands.