Published: 8 January 2026

I will swim again

Today, I pretend everything is fine.
The lake is calm, weather hot,
the great blue water stretches
to kiss the wide blue sky uninterrupted,
and the lake beckons,
spreads its arms wide, says,
“Swim with me,
“Remember.”

As I swim, I am part of the wash,
everything drains but the water from me.
I float, unencumbered by the vagaries,
the punishments of dirt. I am above them now.
Light of the water, blinding on the surface,
suffuses what is beneath, coaxes it into
brilliance, fountains and shines
with each kick and stroke that I might
swim among gold and diamonds
and not want; and the water says,
“Swim with me.
“Remember.”

I rest on the beach, marvel the beat
of my blood matches the sound
waves make on the shore.
This feeling of release and gratitude rests
in the breeze, on the water, within me.
Everything achieves a momentary tenuous balance.
And the water sings,
“Swim with me.
“Remember.”

More Poetry:

Bike Night

Twin beat of tire spokes braid night air
into set of rapids a canoe would fall upon.
Creases of energy propel me deliriously
forward, folds of force comfortable as pillows,
wells of gravity like muscles from beneath.
My legs pound the circle of bicycle pedals
through night soft as sweater, dark, brilliant,
a night when you feel buoyant, lucky

Valour

It’s not about the biggest car.
Not about being first.
About indulging the urge to kill
in the name of privilege and wealth.

Valour defines its arena one way:
deny fate, envisage what should be.

1,000 lives

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.

Two painters and Jarret

Jarret is in a Miro
because I say so.
If I had a camera with me
I could prove it.
Look, the lines, squiggles
around him and he looks
a little like a squiggle himself.

electricity of snow

skates crystalline, pass
of sunlight to the corner
zigzag impossible bank shot
direct to rods and cones
eruption of white noise
as light crackles about you

The Wall

Walk with me.
Meet the wall.
The wall is the end.
Deep, dense,
charcoal melt into
rusted metal door black,

Related

Bike Night

Bike Night

Twin beat of tire spokes braid night air
into set of rapids a canoe would fall upon.
Creases of energy propel me deliriously
forward, folds of force comfortable as pillows,
wells of gravity like muscles from beneath.
My legs pound the circle of bicycle pedals
through night soft as sweater, dark, brilliant,
a night when you feel buoyant, lucky

read more
Valour

Valour

It’s not about the biggest car.
Not about being first.
About indulging the urge to kill
in the name of privilege and wealth.

Valour defines its arena one way:
deny fate, envisage what should be.

read more
1,000 lives

1,000 lives

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.

read more

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