is improvement forward motion?

press the keys and hear the strings
the sound of the music is sweet
even when the ivory sticks
and random notes fall flat.
your ears adjust to the discord
and your fingers grow accustomed
to those stubborn notes.
but something still tells you
that this isn't the way
things were meant to sound
and dirty keys get set out
next to the curbside clutter
where they finally fit in
and the smooth, black, lacquered
surfaces of your new purchase
have a new room to call home.
you press the keys and hear the strings
the sound of music is still sweet
and the fluid fingertips feel fine
but there's a part of you
that longs for the chords to tremble
and for your fingers to fight
with the old stubborn keys
that you thought you couldn't stand
but you grew so accustomed to.

questions that keep my neck stiff

is it possible
to love someone
so much that
you can't love them.
and to think
about them
so much that
you can't think
at all about
them or anything.
and even if
you know what
you should do
can you ever
do it if you
don't really want
to do what you
know is right.
and can someone
be so selfish
that he doesn't
even care about
himself at all.
if pleasing someone
else is all you want
is it ever possible
to please yourself.
can i ever really
want anything outside
of my own.

fun isn't fun

i'm really just a little kid.
sitting at the small table
in my miniature chair
doing nothing of significance.
watching the real party go on
of laughter and grown-ups
and of sitting and talking.
the swings and slides are old
and too familiar to be fun.
so i sneak away and quiet down
thinking about what to do.
but since i can't talk like they do
with their foreign phrases
and their nonsense news
i just get back on the swing
and hope that one of them
will see me just long enough
to know that i want a push.

i don't know how to cease to exist

if you rewind our tapes to the start
what does the beginning look like?
is the end simply sealed off
or does it hang frayed and torn?
maybe the beginning reaches the end
and has no real finish or start.
it might just be as simple
as a cord with two ends
and nothing to define them
except for themselves and what they are.
simply ends of what lies between.
or they could be constantly changing,
stretching, twisting, growing,
redefining where we end and
where what we are begins.

empty stare

a painting requires an audience
witnesses to testify to its beauty
eyes to be filled with its wonder.
even though they change nothing.
the paint dried long ago and
the characters are set in their ways and
the joy that flows from the canvas
can never be returned to its sender.
wide mouths and gaping eyes absorb
but leave no mark of change, nothing
good or bad or ugly or beautiful,
nothing.

haiku #2

writing about work.
i'm trying to make this work..
but it doesn't work.

(almost) awake

cold engine
turn the key
grind the gears
listen for it
almost turned over
turn it again
hope for it
wait for it
the slow purr
of morning thoughts.