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by John FitzGerald

Adjusting the Loneliness

I hear a faucet drip into its puddle, grown to capacity,

Striving to avoid stagnation, just to know its own emotion,

In the middle with itself, like a trinity.

The goal of essence is overflowing.

Ultimate unity is not enough for even an ocean.

It sways back and forth at the sky, as if into a mirror,

Reflecting itself in the deep dark light.

Reground me, engulf me, elate me, drown me,

I can't get enough without passing out.

The sun never goes down, we rise up

Like mountains in the north block time;

Up with clouds, that flirt with poetry and roses,

Become this scribble, revealed elapsing.

Bring sandpipers and baby's breath

Like a tear refracting colors makes a sound.

As strong as waves I gaze between.

Shore is more of an end than it seems -

The first drop is deepest, the last licks the surface;

I remain with the wind, evolved in motion,

Orchestrating silence into dreams of reality;

There are chances, and odds, and fates say we meet,

There are preconceived notions, rivers and gatherings,

There are miles between and limitless faces,

There are endless lines but I can wait.


I remember seeing that bee there, on the windowsill,

When it was still alive.

I was on the phone, and even mentioned it

Bouncing off the window after sunshine.

I'm not afraid of bees, I said.

If I don't want to land, I go higher till the dream ends.

That evening, it lit where it still stands,

Looking wild, though now the slightest breath

Would knock its wings and legs off.

But I leave it there, a reminder of what once was.

If I look close, from the side, the angle right,

I see those hairy fibers coming down,

The delicate v of antennae is perfect.

I've heard they shouldn't be able to fly,

But such thoughts are ridiculous.

I've seen it fly.

Move out from under the dust another way.

Even join it, if you have to.

I thought I could ward off enchantment, and tried,

But earth slipped me a mystery,

So I write as if life had more deadlines than ever.

I believe those sayings that shake me,

Feel nature keep making me up,

As if I have a chance to wonder.

I try as best I can to conceal a soul.

How little can I attest at once

Without losing the moment?

God, if you can name the truth, I dare you.

We'll all be gone by nine.

I fell so far for your eyes, I am corrupt,

I guess there is a world I swear to.

I see wind blow, I should mention,

It opens strong and looks for light.

Adam Surrenders Paradise

Here's where the cosmos comes back to repay me,

Crash my computer, shut down my lines,

Lead me to wishes and cut off my light.

May some inkling of honesty weigh in my favor.

I render existence a force by reaction,

Cast out my echoes like waves into notions.

They return like prodigal sons, or convicts,

For stimulus, destiny, proof, revision.

With promises or need, how will time find me?

I am middleman to future, suspecting nothing.

Source returns impurity

The way the ocean spits a body out.

A mistake in a random place deceived,

At the mercy of the word, I linger.

God, you know I sought beauty, and wisdom.

I wanted to grow, to cross things out.

But things are never good enough,

I have to name them to be who I am;

Closer or farther away doesn't matter,

Just so I'm not at a standstill.

I remember turning love down,

And owe the universe more than can be spoken.

Yet, insofar as others cry for something I say,

I confess to having no real choice.