THESE ARE MINE. IT IS GOOD.

1.) Form of Borges, Free Verse

A man, Argentine, sits,
Maté at his hand.
The light, failing, fails him.
Through repetition and smeared instants
The process is familiar
But not worn.
In his labyrinthine library
He rustles
For ‘gauchos‘ – or –
A mirrored delirium.
History blurred universal,
And his poem is completed.

2.) Ultimate Semester Panic, Sonnet

I’m still here for now. Yesterday or
Tomorrow feels scrunched. That’s nine letters to
One syllable. Where was I? I’m still here.
Need to focus: just ten more lines to go.
Applications, programming, personal
Statements. Have I ordered my cap and gown?
Money for rent, or transcript fees. Or booze.
Wake up to no alarm. A whole hour early?!
Bollocks to this. Maybe I could be a
Gardener. Cabbages wouldn’t care what
I made on the GRE. Back to work.
Run credit cards. “Krzyzstof” – that’s flexible
Spelling. I’d go by ‘Chris’ too in his shoes.
Maybe things will settle down in grad. school?

3.) The Doors are Cleansed, Villanelle

Static in solid space of information.
Interminable detail to the surrounding structure.
Infinite miniscule reverberation.

Gamely striving for description,
A faint cage proffers the modeler.
Static in solid space of information.

The mind rattles at this realization;
Constrained by inherent perceptive stricture.
Infinite miniscule reverberation!

Sense and reason form conception.
Can you trust a white noise picture?
Static in solid space of information.

But still we strive for explanation.
These answers missing from your scripture.
Infinite miniscule reverberation.

When you require complete elucidation,
Of what help is Occam’s Razor?
Static in solid space of information.
Infinite miniscule reverberation.

5.) Life Cuts It Close, Sestina

Life cuts it close.
Who knows when good luck runs out.
I make my choices,
Good or bad, but never know
How close I came to a last breath.
But sometimes I do.

My parents were unsure what to do.
I’d stumbled in from the sandbox, holding an arm close,
Wincing as the breeze made me cry out.
An hour’s drive to the hospital the only choice.
“Not sprained; infection, his blood is septic,” the white coat said knowingly,
“After surgery, you’ll find it easier to breathe.”

A childhood mountain vacation! Just breathe
In the altitude. “Stroll, but do
Not run along the loose embankment, close
To the dredged river,” Mom calls out.
Ignoring her, I fall and slide – bad choice.
My skid ends just short of water; but I was lucky, I know.

I just want to be off the road, that’s all I know.
Ten hours driving – a slow semi elicits a short aggravated breath.
Downshift and floor it, speed climbs, but too late do
I see the oncoming truck. This will be close.
Headlights flashing, horns blaring, I barely make it out
Of the lane. No more fatigue influenced choices!

Of course it’s not always so clear. Our choices
May have repercussions unknown;
Never realizing that we were a breath
Away from snuffing it last Tuesday. Dollars to do-
Nuts, it happens all the time. How close
We might come to permanently checking out!

A half-century of the same morning routine. Hop out
Of the shower, shave, brush teeth. Brain off – choices
Relegated to auto-pilot. Don’t notice
The puddle on the tile; too busy practicing yoga breathing.
An off-balanced step, a slip, and we’re done
For. What an ignoble way for a life to close.

I’ve made my choices, and I’ve come close.

I’ve been a breath away from being done.

Don’t worry though, that’s just how life works out.