Poetry from Throw

A man can cross a desert with enough might and water
But what if he needed neither and still showed up at your door?
A child can make it to his prime if his parents are useful
But what if he still makes it out here on his own?
No one chases fireflies like a kid from the slums
And the Grand Canyon will wait for him regardless
Human events fly as fast as their meanings
But what if a meaning is only the start?
Life is the course we’re all trying to pass
The more answers we master, the less we know
A planet can survive just by spinning to nowhere
But what if nowhere and right here are the same?
One soul in as one goes out
We either create fields of hope or empty lots
For all we know, that’s all there is.


I Died
Exaggerated hands
Faceless intentions
Address obscure
But members
In the know
Make the gang sign
This way we don't burn alone
Our collector of souls
Has fangs for pockets
Dig a code name into them
And hear your private moans

Etched on walls
That mimic the prisons
We create
In and around us
Act as faithful addictions
A shutting down of sorts
Is necessary
If you want the walls to be still

But not getting
To the core of the matter
The original dis-ease
Before we learned
What a dark,
High-rise alleyway smells like
What an underbelly
Feels like
When you cut into it
See your twisted intestines
How they dangle
Promises of spiritual ecstasy
And then implode

Shadows, he said
Loud yet voiceless
Grabbing, pleasing
But never satisfying
Secret handshakes
Kept him on the list
To nowhere somewhere
Between the void
And the unmentioned
Right before sunrise
Or the last desperate attempt
To forget his name

And again all the hands
Until the surrender
When one of us
If not all of us
Gets to keep down his turmoil
And act like it’s ended

I asked him how
He got to be
How he went from
All the way over there
To there, to here and here
He turned away from his thoughts
Then looked back and said,
I died.