Motion 2

I guess I had it
all down wrong:
here was me, believing,
and knowing,
and still thinking
and doubting
for seconds
of ripping, shredding,
torn uncertainty -
and as it turns
this crux
this point
of hard-earned trust
snaps,
a jagged pencil end
and the lead a dust
brushed aside.

How that edge,
razor-thin and fragile
can be all this rests upon:
getting that balance
costs a price
one should never
be willing to pay.

And yet here I am.
Tread at the ready
arms out
head back
preparing to fall:
after all
this would not be
the first time.

Red Race

It had no verse
it had no rhyme
it stayed the words
and cheated time
this full-tilt mad
had it but sound
I would it were hate -
it would be less ground
on the rocking edge
of a tipping sky
and the flip it engenders
has me feeling this high
and as I lose head
in the capricious chase
falling at speed
of lightsound race,
there is a shatter
and it hails, heaven-crash,
shape-sharp cutting,
jagged, biting lash -
and scarlet-streaked,
the mind breaks:
a ravaged, ruined thing
and all it takes
is one last push
into too much,
so leaving it,
as such,
I gather remnants,
then rise and run,
knowing this heated anger
has only begun.