1,000 lives.
Each one never perfect,
undone by the weakness of living.
One life as an aesthetic only to hate more.
One life as an addict only to suffer more.
One life as a dog to experience humiliation.
One life as king more than enough.
One life as gambler, all meaning won and lost.
One life as priest and God failed over and over,
always for the same reason, not enough love.
Every life lived, never enough love.
But, should there not be ambition,
passion, temptation, oh sweet embrace of flesh?
1,001 lives are not enough.
Visit from the mother
Mother hummingbird,
pray perch on subtle twig of lilac,
wise to trust, or so I tell myself,
pirouette so I may admire electric green



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