Downloads

I do not have 

dreams

or

nightmares

when I sleep.

I get downloads.

The universe

exploits

my helplessness,

the vulnerability

of my unconsciousness

and downloads

what becomes

perception

into my

unsecured brain.

Most nights

the download

is an unholy melange,

of doubt,

curiosity,

fear

and transcendence.

I pray that hackers

will not attempt

to break through

the rudimentary

security measures

I’ve installed

so I can operate

with the predictable

smoothness of glass,

of a perfect machine.

Some nights

the download is so real

I wake up scared,

praying to undo

what I saw in

the download.

Some nights

The Great Coder

compiles the lines

and I awaken

fresh and eager

to live out

these commands.

“So, then,

are you merely a Puppet

of the Great Coder?

What about

free will?”

I didn’t get here

because of any

free will choice 

I made,

so I don’t know

what free will

means.

And, if free will

is something granted

by The Great Coder,

then can’t the code

be modified?

I don’t know,

just like

I don't know

the virgin birth,

life after death,

the mystery of the trilogy.

So,

I have faith

and hope

that the next

download

might clarify

things.

Pleasant dreams.

[Written for Imaginary Garden with Real Toads ]

Christmas Present (For the Brokenhearted)

Christmas Past
stays in yellowed,
attic memories,
re-appearing as
days get short
and the nights become
a cold, black
collective,
and the ache
in my soul finds
its way
from my childhood
to now.

Christmas Future
invariably promises more-
conspiratorial familial laughter,
opulent –themed rooms,
quiet spiritual contentment-
and predictably,
delivers far less
than my covetous dreaming
could ever imagine.

Both Christmases
are illusions,
yielding only
red and green
pangs of sadness.

This year
I’m foregoing both
and becoming
Christmas Present.

Not
The Christmas Present,
but rather,
present,
fully here
this year.

If I stay present
in this time and place,
perhaps
I can sidestep
the pain and
the memories
that usually linger
well into
the next year.

Christmas Present
is my gift
to myself
this year.

[Written for Imaginary Garden with Real Toads ]