BRUNK HOWARD


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Beginning

Time can’t  remember

Wasn’t even there.

Two aliens playing cards,

“No entry” card blocks Care.


Cutthroat poker

Each player touches its neck.

The invisible card a joker

Not a trace of self respect.


Without Care the cards are laid

All save only one.

It is flipped and the hand is done.

That’s how the game is played.


Face up or face down.

The difference plain to see

Flipped card does not clown.

Thinks, “ No sense to count on me”.


Maybe it was planned,

Most probably not.

The flipped card lands upright

Trying like hell t’ hold on tight.



The upright card is born to doubt.

A veil has been drawn.

Care says, ”What’s this all about?”

The card now another unseen form.


The card looks back

At a “no entry” card on the veil.

Picks up its future in a sack,

Leaves its past in a jail.

Slips on a wet spot.

Falls through a crack.

Accelerates through shock.

Rides a one way track.

The begin has begun.

Nothing lost or won.

Out of and into time.

Becomes divine.


The tumbling, feral, altered card

Now big as all get out

Looks at its watch

And births a universe with this shout:


“I’ll take the risk of lose and win

No time like now to begin.

How hard can it be?

It all feels so easy for me.

Mistakes seem too far away

To color the game that I’ll play

With a Maybe, the driving theme

And “Truth” a hoped for scream.”


“Truth is never what it seems

Reality is the dream of dreams.

Tears of joy and tears of pain

The same recipe do contain.

Think of it!— what I will,

Of course!, but?, yet?, still?…”