Clinical Trials

Characteristics measure weather 
And driving risk factors.
It's late now to turn back.
And where your next paycheck comes from or where
you’re going to get the food you need to eat?
The luxury of wanting to explore the world
Comes as a consequence
Of knowing there’s more
Out there than just us.
The injustice of beginning to know:
We residents of history
Never addressed or linked together and in the end
we realized that we could actually
Find just the characteristics of right now in this moment
As they say, it’s all we have anyway,
That, and our breath. Yet
I don’t know if it’s enough of an argument fit for
Transcending this place
By simple meditation.
A plane perhaps but by breath.
I’m beginning to wonder
If it’s a hoax or if it’s enough.
With so many factors what did you decide to notice?
To hug chemicals regardless of history’s exposures
Or enter into a race so to predict the risk early on by
The depth of pockets of children picked to share characteristics
Just like the ones who are real that’s one reason why I,
The individual, I, the impossibility of me
Having been exposed to intervene or change the outcome
Yet I know my kind of density.
People often talk about it as if it’s what changes as
A response to differences in stress.
Do you remember how many we saw yesterday
wondering whether we have enough information
Oh, we think we do of
The particular and of the extreme
Yet it’s not like we had to ask.
Questions like who is significantly greater our daughters or
Our grandmothers?
Yet I think this example of the injustice of abandonment or
A response to parental death.
What demonstrates that this is a really
Deep investigation
A lot more exploration to understand where are the places we can actually intervene,
Places to create need out of want?
Yet it might give us some real information about
From historical vantage points
Those of time past and
In the end under our control, Our personality changing:
The way we
The why we
The where we
The what we
The how we and the science
Of the who we are now -
Acceptable or whether to bet
All of us on the risk of results.
Telling out to the world
What we hope from exposure?
Our right, this night
in these hard days to argue against
Conversations, extreme and uncertainty.
When the web of social networks of
women, spinning stark as anything with dreams of
Growing up to be the silver bullet
And to provide important priorities of what we might do to stop this right now
and to be sure,
Done.

Broken Circle

A mirror can’t judge you
Nor can it lie, it hangs up deliberating
In a box without jury or law.
Facing adjudication
I tell my side and can swear
On a stack of miracles
As a morning sleepy refugee
Belonging nowhere today
I get dressed for the trial anyway.
Showered, shorn and bowels empty
I’m a traveler brushing her hair
Singing, humming, bustling
Like yesterday but no chair
Awaits me at any desk, no rustling
Paperwork into the corrals
Where the palominos ran.
I’m instead looking at four walls
Painted dove gray and orange.
The mind of an orangutan
Looking at the empty crates
No more books no more tape
No more staples, no more breaks.
Water coolers generate condensation
Leaving now your conversations
Gossips of Karen’s and Kate’s
Sales pitched over the plate
By Pete’s and Paul’s and the VPs.
Why I’ve never smoked
But I now show signs of
Someone older with a gash
Between my eyes
As though a killer with an axe
Took me for a blind ride by surprise.
Catch your breath, still slapping
An oak desk or a glass table
From a joke we all heard a hundred times
The overripe punchlines left
A prime meridian of jokes
The longitude of laughter
Down to the frown ground into
Cleft chins and Adam’s apples.
The mirror round, a circle nothing
Special, or even social.
Sorely left concave and convex
Not impressing or annoying
Yet impressionable
Not beautiful but attractive
Not pretentious, but on reflection
Of one more than anything
You knew about everyone else
All the knowns and even the odds
Of the unknown futures. The past
Imperfect and Impossible still
Nothing of a future state
Meant to somebody
Who once held weight around here.
They saw your signal
At the stop sign Not a zodiac but
A night light spotting by accident
Before it happened making
A living beyond killing as a comic
The twist of a cosmic relief made to
Unsteady the hands the end of a pair
Of arms of two feet right in front
Of your very eyes moments unfolded
In sheets on a bed waiting for you
White and Egyptian. Enter with
A card key and a new friend.
She’s ready, willing like Able to Cain.
Sisyphus or Thor your
Next door neighbors. During the silent
Years you never knew me, the unicorn.
“She found her horn in the yard,”
Everyone knows. It was a joust
From beating her head against
A brick house. The place
Where now justice ahead of us
Made a left and t-boned into
The passenger, dead by impact.
Tomorrow’s special the guilt
Pie. Eaten a la mode with sprinkles.
Sailing across the bench seat into
Your empty children
Lying to you not strapped in
Tricked by slight of unhanded
Sighs of relief knowing why
The cage door open
And the bird sings yet never
Leaves. Unclipped wings don’t try
Wet with sea spray don’t dry.
Good luck take care and these
Twice a day during questioning
By a peace officer without any
Tickets to the ride to the station
Where I have the right
Go ahead make a call. What
Number - call Pi, or infinity.
Like those wild eyes I saw in the
Mirror just this morning . Inert
Inverted like my thoughts thatched
In a fence around the old dog run.
You’re not really free, never were .
Nobody has a will or a right to the truth
The mirror always lies and hangs
Me upon the wall where I got framed.

Maskers Ball

Genetic alterations like cleft chins and widows peaks

Clean white teeth and braces,

Blush and pink watermelon lipgloss,

Handlebar mustaches and biker beards

All for nothing now and how ridiculous.

Behind a mask there’s no way

to flash a smile of gratitude to a shop clerk

or for someone’s kindness in holding

open a door.

We look plastic.

Polarized in soundless shock.

The cranes fly overhead in t-formations

migration from and to places I never visited

And now probably won’t either

Come to think about it,

those birds I knew,

birds

where I’ve been basking in year and year outside

Without the warmth in those million year old spaced.

As sounds of the floorboards let us know

Our short winter days draw nearer

The knuckles crack in my hands

Open and closed alone

I am divided by savage time.

For Celia