Untitled

Can we ever leave the now?
If we're to transcend time,
does it come attached to us-
can I call my now mine?

Or do we wear it like a smock
of holes to rest upon
-say trade a spot as pen pals do,
a word across the pond.

Untitled Crux

There lives a window deep inside
our pattern-seeking mind

Where strangers look- from outside in,
the wise - from either side

We hear its tinted silence as
the artist seeks its force

But through or from- this hidden place
our tool of tools- coerse