Victors Heart Chimes

     Canopy Collapse As a kid I wanted to see the stars better. I wanted to hold their radiant Warmth in the center of my eyes Til I drift off to sleep. I wanted to lie down beneath them And press my mind to the task of Grasping the magnitude of this place. So I learned how to climb to the canopies tiptops. Now that I secured A good view I needed away to stay up here. So I learned how to fashion and tie ropes. Spin, wrap, knot, I began to weave a web of ropes. They were material ropes, as much as figurative ropes. Interwoven with ropes were hopes that This is what obtaining the good life looked like. A mighty force of friends and family In my proverbial corner, A pursuit of a promising career, A loyal, long-term lover to hold, to be held by, to share, to delight in. Spin, wrap, knot, my woven web atop these tree tops was becoming done. I lay back with you to hold this dream of stargazing til night’s end, til our bodies tired and gave in to sleep’s soft, sweet s...

  Awaking from Stasis A slow, sharp inhale, punctuates the rise from a great deep sleep Next follows short shallow breaths, confusion, urgency. Sweet dreams torn asunder, sweet dreams, and I resisting the warmth they bring. Grief lowly strolls now in place of something once sacred and sweet. The body rises in new space, new scene Yet the mind loads and rolls fraying old film roles. Whirr—click—tick, whirr—click—tick, The fading ghosts of vibrant dreams playback. The characters worn, faded From repeated use, the scenes worn, graying from locales growing foreign. Whirr—click—tick, whirr—click—tick, Once favorite films that brought this body electric are soon to be brought down to storage. They lose more life with each play. I rise from bed, beginning my next role, Next scene. Thrrrrr—the projector hums,  the reel dislodged, sputters in rotation. Thrrrrrr—click, Thrrrrrr—click, Stasis is gracious and slow as it tries to write over a life I didn’t want to throw away. Time movi...

A Poem for the Name I No Longer Answer To We were never creative with cutesy nicknames. A simple, refined hun did the trick. Or hun-bun to comically say in an angry tone for comedic effect. I don't remember once these nicknames came, but once established replaced our given names. The couple of weeks it took me to pack, Your given name was back in place. Love's enchantment faded, Jokes and dreams dissipated. A fractured vision—both of us, and the world itself. The lights didn’t just go out in us. They dimmed behind my eyes. The future steadies somewhere behind my pupils, where vision fades but resolve sharpens. Of the damage incurred and the sharp, strong force of the human resolve pushing the envelope of science that’s not been previously possible. A prayer in white knuckled hands, A dream spoke in quiet fiery tones A rising out of bed “fuck it” before kicking off the sheets and getting to work anyway. Please don’t turn the lights out behind my eyes.