Light and Glass

they keep coming, and if you look hard enough
you might find some patterns in there
stars, light, candy
redemption
and faith
and always
the fact
that i know that i do it

words are not in limitless
supply
and like every good american should
i recycle-
thoughts, themes, feelings
moods
though someone like me should keep those
under wraps
lest the self-important -atriarchs
see symptoms and not
life

falling back on tired metaphor
(a phrase i've used before; it slides out of my fingers
like molten glass
too sharp and hot on landing
to pick up and take back)
i try
frustrated and on edge
to sort everything out
lay out the blocks again
and again
endless layouts
and still
everything i say
is the same.

behind the windows i fool myself
tell myself i can see out
and you can see in
but the truth is both of us are trapped
singular me, collective you
by who we think i am
and who we know i'm not
and who we all wish
we were
could be if the things we dreamed at ten were true

and of course
they're not.

there is no solitude here
no artists' retreat
hidden deep in a thicket
of tangled weeds
briars parting just enough
to let me through

there is only this
vast
dark space
with bits of light spinning by
and i
sitting in the middle
with my glow sticks and glitter paint
have caught more light
than most.

if you look closely
you might see
that none of it
is yours.