September 30, 2022



This is how ‘now’ feels,

barely holding onto this earth,

destined to fly off the path and plunge 

into the grand canyon 

of an unknown destiny.


All I really know

is that people disappear

not magic really, more like hypnosis

before you are born 

you are programmed to vanish, to die, 

to not exist.


When I was a young poet,

I use to write about death 

as though it were a fragrant and mystical journey,

now I am scared shitless 

that some black outfit of a shadow

who calls itself ‘Grim Reaper’

is going to walk through my bedroom door at night

and fuck me into another realm.


All the time we put into this life,

the love, the passion, the wanting, 

the hunger and the need,

poems written with naked bodies turning into words,

tears that drip from the page with flesh,

all that clay turned into lovers, 

sent into the fire, the molten mix

of becoming.


All the times we fall in love,

the heart is lifted, the heart is torn, the heart is joyful,

the heart is sad, the heart is ecstatic, the heart finds a home,

the heart looses a home, 

the heart rejoices, 

the heart falls upon the floor withering in agony, 

wishing for more.


The appetite never fully satisfied,

the dance that ended too soon.

the ecstasy of being,

the damning of dying


Do we die understanding why we have lived,

will you ever even remember my hand upon your heart?


Will you remember the dreamscapes

the place we first met, the first kiss, the last embrace?


( This is how ‘now’ feels,

the enchanting ____ the witching hour:)

Placing my herbs upon the blending blanket,

the poppit dolls stuffed with rose petals, 

lavender and meadowsweet,

stitched together 

with hands that have lived a thousand years.


And I will let my hair down, 

and I will stand naked 

beneath the Harvest Moon _____

and I will throw the now into eternity.


This is how now feels.



Poem © Gesso Cocteau


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