Poem: Janus


Janus – the two-headed god of January:

Looking backwards – looking forwards –

In that cross-eyed expansion of mental

Bilocation, we fear a future that will not

Carry us away from the past – clutching

The skirts of redemption, we may find

The pain we escaped is a pale relation

Of the pain we’re to embrace – leaping

Over a hedgerow spun into a maze, to

Be labyrinthed in a pavement’s fracture


In the spaces that follow,

Every bend and every hollow,

Every moment is a release and

A return to an ailment that cannot

Be cured – and is only intensified in

The healing


I feast myself on the bland statements of others,

While love whickers itself out of silence and absence;

And like a sun is a single point of light in a sky of darkness,

Love is lost in the meaning of meaningless tweeting, yet is

Ever-present in the particulates of light, that can even give

Sunburn to the darkness


Looking backwards, I see all that I’ve believed crucified

On an ego of prayers – looking forwards, I find dreams

Coalescing into coarser fabric, and moments that were

Once replete with meaning being relegated to sideshow



I see love in the shuffling of socks –

In the stridulation of the re-alignment

Of slippers – I see love in uneaten dinners;

In embryonic melodies spinning themselves

Out of a silence, too shy, too elusive, to be



I see up ahead the death of waiting;

And of myself pressing against the

Gates of Hell, urging it not to be

Reborn as: Waiting For something



Sometimes, I see so much, that my eyes

Are torn out of the sockets of The Present,

And those barren hallways of eyeless glory,

Make me look like a child in a daze ever



Because Janus only has two heads,

And the third is compiled by the consumption

Of the two others – just as love will eat away

All who bear it, and carry the rest to the sewers




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