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Michael McGuire
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Distances Both Great and Small
The unreconciled wandering,
The intrinsic penance of motion,
Could the miracle-morning be,
The song of the unconscious ocean,
Balking between waiting and wanting,
The losting; a rouge destination,
The unspent money by motor,
And the cost of the computation,
Where are we at and are; were and when,
Blessing all these facts with a taste of fiction,
And this serpent entwines with your soul,
Your actions bribed by emotional friction,
With poetry's attempt to articulate the wordless world,
Future-fueled by your memory,
You know more than you know how to say,
Till your traveler's tongue becomes your enemy.
The past was not,
The future won't be,
The moment never is.
I have nothing but endless want,
A day is just a waste of sunlight to me,
And desire empties the self,
To its vehicle of deliverance,
Left to the pure and perfect rage of the now,
These moments mired in tedious wonders,
But then there are spirit moments and god building,
Then my mind fidgets to the double-digits,
And I break to passive-pastimes,
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And my will seems to never find its way,
I go off topic in the fatigue of fragmentation,
Then I am not father to the little I know,
But more child to the much I don't,
Then I just want something to need me,
Because I don't want to feel like I'm just now and nothing,
I want to cast a shadow; be an asymptote edge.
I just don't want anything; I want everything,
I end up so losting I'm wondering where is now,
Junked by the false-horizon of a systemic sunset,
I suffer distances both great and small,
First person narrative of third person law,
The season's alterity implies both its coming and going,
Drawn on by a whispering light go the mantic-meanings,
Yet I don't believe in dreams but I believe in dreamers,
But the very reason you have to believe in it is it's not true,
A vessel of greatness will succumb to its own dark-ridings,
With the binary logic of past and future,
Figuring and forging the non-linear now,
As wireless wonders trigger the heavens and heal the healers,
The ubiquitous-mainstream-howling sets the clock,
So in aspirations to transcend all travels,
I have found love is the only sustaining grace.
Where you come from,
Subtracted by where you'er going,
Will tell you where you are.
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