Each Mind a World

Each Mind a World

by Tim Reed

it came to me that

each mind

is its own world, of a kind

same grey sphere from space

but, below

each

street,

store,

sepulcher,

sits or stands

in fierce individuality

One Day

One Day

by Tim Reed

ne  ay

 t  ast

 ife  ill  e  efined,

 o  ore  y

 ow  e  ompensate,

 ut  y

 urity.

I  ong  or  hat  ay.

Fertilizer

Fertilizer 

by Tim Reed

May my old life

Eyes forever darkened 

bestow its flesh to the ground

that, by its sleep

it may grant

Sustenance to the new

And may the new

as a sapling 

be unstained by all

That made death needful 

Vanity

Self-love

Mistrust

- the death of these is life's brew

Against the Dream

Against the Dream

by Tim Reed

the fool daily adds a belief

the wise daily subtracts

the weak, a product of addition

the strong, a product of loss

That Which We Bury

 

 

That Which We Bury

by Tim Reed

that which we buried

is not dead

but, obscured

waits

to grace the earth

below dismal skies

who,

unbeknownst

long for

bright seed-leaves

to banish

a grey presage

Death Mask

Death Mask

by Tim Reed

the Sun

in fading vibrancy

grants the clouds

its dying

colours

Never Take My Wings

Never Take My Wings

by Tim Reed

A rush of power

primal

straining

metal and fire

a thousand drums

drumming

and suddenly, this noise

is made to meaning

as my wheels leave the dirt

give me a star

give me a horizon

but never,

oh God,

never take my wings.

Desolation #7: Oaks and Dandelions

All bonds break

Friends

Family

Love

a lone oak in a field

cursed

To live

Through countless generations 

Of dandelion companions 

Desolation #6: Good Morning Moon

Good Morning, Moon

have you stayed up late

to spy

and try

to pry

me away from the yellow eye?

Never before

has jealousy reached

such great heights

Desolation #5: November

Why do we use such

grandiose

gargantuan

hundred-dollar

words

to describe such

small 

two-bit

hearts?

Desolation # 4: Winepress

As Dionysus

trod upon grapes

in the winepress

the howling wind

and merciless hills

change mice to men

or men to mice

distress

grants either

rich sweetness

or dregs most bitter

blame not the foot

but the grape

for what you become

Desolation #3

Sweet rain

Wash away

The facade

The savvy

Let it fall into the gutter

Where this shivering orphan 

Now lives

Desolation #2

and so I cower

amidst a swarm of receipts 

tasks

Obligations 

wishing to be in the company of my peers

heroes 

more of ink and pen

than of truth 

Desolation #1

Where do I live?

with face pressed to glass

longing

for a flurry of white 

to grant this present wasteland

a softer countenance

Archimedes Man

Archimedes Man

By Tim Reed

Though I be halved,

Halved,

Halved,

And halved again 

More a child than a man

my hands will grasp for a lever

my feet will grope for a rock

And I 

will move

the earth.

Why?

Because there is an earth

to be moved.

Maestro

Maestro

By Tim Reed

Thinking you control your life

is like 

a composer 

Couched between charred earth and blackened sky 

Baton held delicately 

Waving wrist smoothly 

Convinced

He is causing the resounding vibrations 

of the heavens' timpani 

"I command the sequence of light 

With a gesture 

I unleash ten thousand candles"

"When my gaze burns

The waters release their hold on the heavens

and pour with fury on the sod below."

"What then is beyond my hand and eye?"

Only when the candles render

Sight

sightless

Only when sodden lungs render

Breath

breathless 

Only when death renders

Motion 

motionless 

Only then will man

know his place

Only then will man 

know

his

madness 

Artless

Artless

by Tim Reed

Who are you?

like a gale

s t r i p s

the branch

of its bark

like the worm

f e a s t s 

on the heavy heart

you have rendered me

...artless

Made. Unmade. Made

Made. Unmade. Made.

by Tim Reed

Sinews unwind

Bones dislodge

Veins flatten

Lungs collapse

Eyes darken

Ears deafen

...and somehow a cry not my own resonates in this frame

tears fall from this empty man

You formed me.

When I was unmade,

you made me again.

Mud

Mud

by Tim Reed

how could they know that

the mud

(through which it's been dragged)

bows

in sorrowful reverence

to

the Name?

Life Must Go On

Life Must Go On

by Tim Reed

I think,

maybe,

the reason people say

life.

must.

go.

on.

(such awful words)

is...

...because they wish it hadn't.