The First Forgotten Dew

In my lost memory
Like a forgotten sleep
The first forgotten dew
Lingers
Spread across the fine first sky
Like a web of stars
The way
It always has.

This was my childhood realization
Anyway
My childhood observation
At the very least
Despite the noise of youngling years
As I stared into the sky
And held the moon
Between my thumb and forefinger 
Only to realize
How small I was
That my apparent largeness
Was just an illusion
But grandma loved me anyway
Because that was who she was,
What she did.

Still that's the thing about poetry
If you wanna be good at it
You gotta die first 
But you can't die until you're done
And you're never done
And you'll never understand the moon
Anyway
Not the way it was
Meant to be understood
Anyway
Like the fine firstness
Of all fine first things
So simple in their simple majesty
That even children understand
What the grown ups forget.

And no one
Ever knows
What the fuck you're talking about
Anyway
You know:
That first spinning light
And what not
You know: 
The origin of all things
And what not.
You know:
The first forgotten dew
Of all
First, forgotten things.
You know what I'm talking about
Don't you:
The only thing
That matters?
But then again
You probably don't.
Then again
I probably should have known better.

Even the child i was knew better
Than to say it out loud
The way I did
So long ago
That it doesn't matter anymore
When the moon made fun of me and grandma
While grandma gazed on
Bewildered by us both.

In The Cloud

It's weird
I have all this me time
But I don't know what to do with it
Now that you're not here

It's weird
To stand here now
Between two points in time
Ethereal, ghostlike,
Pondering my own future grave
While two devils in hell
Share a bro fist
Ignoring the legions of suffering souls
At their feet:
Memory and foreknowledge.

But my life is weird like that
and I am no stranger to strength
And I am only in possession
Of a desire
For a deterministic universe
When it is of convenience to me
When it makes me seem to be
The thing I've always
Wanted to be.
The rest of the time
I am content
With the random order
Of everything.

But fate is fate
And karma is karma
And this is the madness
Of the world
I thrust you in
The world that
Like you
I have inherited.
I suppose I should apologize
But I don't know how
Or why
Even
Because even now
Now that you're here with us
the history of the human story
Is still the sound
Of a single sustained scream,
A burned singed cacophony of singularity.

Yet... still... I know
That one day when I'm gone
You'll still type my name
In a Google search bar
One day
Propelled by your own innate
Need to know
And then you'll know
Then you'll understand
My thoughts
My dreams
My emotions
(Because you are still my muse
Even after all this time)
And then you'll understand
Because even though I'm gone
I'll still be out there
In the cloud
Teaching you
Guiding you
Misleading you sometimes
And, yes, even loving you,
In my own broken way -
(My love is always
And has always been
Broken
Betrayed by trust as it is)
- Even though my heart
Has grown wispy thin
And made of dying light
The way it always was
Its fading light
Like the moonlight
That once was sunny sun
Will still be strong enough
To drive you forward
And make you strong
Like the meal of joy
That never ends.

Yes
One day
In the cloud
You will finally understand
Your poor broken hearted daddy
And his long far seeing eye.
After all
Anyone who tells you
Their heart isn't broken
Is lying to you anyway
In the cloud
Where our thoughts
And our dreams
And our emotions
Endure forever
Sometimes
Like now
For instance.

Tardis Like These Days

There is no poetry,
no song,
in this sad place.
It is always the same
like black paint
on black paint
in thick wet splotches.

Here
Where everything sinks
into a weird state
of atemporal synchronicity
utterly undistinguished
on a bleak background
of mere carbon oblivion
or the promise of such
anyway.

This is what I have become
here
in this sad place
and that is why
I must leave.

There is no color
in this bizarre world
I was never meant to inhabit
in the first place.

Even my newsfeed refuses
to deliver anything new
here
here,
where endlessness
is only the beginning of more
endlessness,
where even the cockroaches
have shiny new teeth,
slick and brown,
in the mind's eye,
and they are always hungry,
where my karma pushes me
south again
as if to say
what took you so long
in the first place?

After all I still remember once
seeing the moon for the first time.
Don't we all?
Maybe not.

But still I dream,
as if none of it mattered any more,
as if there were nothing else worth doing.
Still I dream
of a place where poetry
and song
still sing
Somewhere at the edge
of an undiscovered galaxy
somewhere lost in time and space.
Still I dream like this
until the heat death of the universe
when and where I stand
Tardis like
on the brink of it all
blinking in disbelief
and wondering how it all began
or if it ever did
even
only to shut the door
in a kind of blind refusal
one last time
only to move on anyway
if only
for one more single drop
of starry rain
or for just one more precious day
I can never live again.