Spinning Still Yet

Soon losing the light of day
as the earth turns in this dark corner of time
after the bright promise of a beautiful one
had been written in the heavens just this morning

Spinning still yet toward illuminating another dawn
while other bodies in the speckled sky
will keep their secrets and not betray the direction of the movements
leaving us to gamble fairly about whether the immediate hours ahead
either tighten or loosen things

Waking with a scrambled egghead breakfast brain is unhelpful
in understanding the endless continuity that only imaginary lines
drawn        (or opened)
in  befores  and  afters

etch

hurdles over which we leap and crutches on which we cling.

Ever since my childhood awareness of mortality,

I perceived death as a stalker, shadowing me.

I would periodically look back over my shoulders

to ensure my feet were well ahead of it.

Cautionsly, I ran;

it was easier in my youth;

aging can alter the inertia,

skew the pursuit, distorting the gap.

　

Today, I stopped running

to let my thoughts catch a breath,

to pant over the end of this pavement,

the gravel beyond it,

the dirt road beyond that, and farther along

trail ruts and wilderness.

　

The omnous threat felt close on my heels,

almost feeling its hot breath on my neck.

Turning around to face the inevitable,

I was surprised at my impatience with its arrival,

drawing breath after breath,

anticipating the ravaging devour.

Eventually, its approach came into view,

a slow gait quickening in the distance

as if recognizing my stationary stealth,

its excitement proportional to my dread

standing on this self-determined finish line.

　

I closed my eyes and trembled,

fearing the face of its open-jawed countenance.

A sensationless pause opened my eyelids

to see my pursuer; it was the face of my life.

　

Then, I devoured myself.

  The acceleration of political news has moved from measured, dichotomous rhetoric in campaign cycles, where spikes and troughs of public opinion polls crest and dip on a wide scale, to highly intense and narrowed needle swings of frequency fueled by ravenous and ambiguous media. Within the tightening stream of one permanent campaign nowadays, the right vs left slugfest more closely resembles a sustained collision of trembling laser beams that befit an arm wrestling contest.
 
  Moreover, media reports have had an atomizing effect in that each turn in developing events re-assembles particles into potential ideological narratives ripe for packaging into the fray that strengthen the tension in partisan conflicts.

The Last Note

Winded in the shallow breathing,
awaiting closure the last note in life's melody will bring,

Wondering whether it will hold a sustained resonance,
unchecked by the reflexive shadow thought
of a possible time signature ascribing a curt ending.

Regardless

Departing privately with an assurance
that a soul's  thirst is scantly quenched,
rings in the abyss.