The Year of Living Defenselessly

Mornings begin with an untraceable bruise,

a sudden gray cloud in an otherwise blue sky.

Is this how my body resolves its emotions?

One wound at a time.

Maybe I’m wrestling angels unaware.

Buddhist monks are known

to clock you with a stick

to get your attention.

Have I really joined that club?

I live a re-purposed life

since my romance lost face.

My passion now lives in my hands.

What that simply means is

I can no longer be taken at face value.

There is no such thing as strength.

To be alive is to opt for vulnerability.

There is no such thing as a superman.

Wisdom merely leads to more bewilderment.

Did you think it would make you safe?

Hardly. Everything will still hurt.

From now on I am keeping a low profile.

I’m content to be more than I seem.

Try imagining outgrowing your history

and you will begin to understand me.

Most faces take too much precedence.

Like a sucker on a flavorless stick.

If only we could choose our flavor.

Or maybe we can.

What does your life taste like?

Mine tastes the color blue.

Momentarily.

I’d like to officially disown the word dream.

Like the word God

it has no business being a noun.

Better to rise to action as a verb.

Better to be Godly than a God.

Otherwise, how else to get involved?

I’d like to bring Godly down to earth.

God can only be heard vacuuming

like Monroe upstairs when you 

really came to meet Miller.

A total distraction!

I’m afraid of zombies 

and zombie words.

No, I suspect them.

It’s the difference between

being jaded and being detached.

One responds to the moment

while the other is barely present.

Imagine what it would mean

to make everything from scratch.

Not to worry. 

What’s needed is not material.

Nor is it immaterial.

For example:

I’m making this day

this very moment.

Now you try.

Peter Valentyne

June 9th, 2020