The Last Page

My hand cramped
as I wrote the final words
across the page. Its black
leather cover had guarded
its contents well.

It does not know it's age,
I am certain it is fully
unaware of it. Only a
sentimental creature could
care about such things.

The pages are all filled
with half-remembered
thoughts, bad poems,
memories, and line
breaks too casual

to remember. Why
do this? Who is this
all for? It's always been
for an audience of one
and always will be.

Beyond This Oblivion

Don't Think About It

What we Love can kill us

just as easily as what we Hate.

Of Transitions

Beginnings and Ends

are indistinguishable

from one another. 

A.W.O.L.

Art

With

Out 

Limits

CU.T.E.

CUltivate

The

Eternal

Every lie

we've ever

believed.

lets

would rather

what would

you rather

do this

or that

or perhaps

you'd prefer

to pretend

I rather

would or

wouldn't

do that

Witness

There aren't very many people hanging out at the beach
at three o'clock in the afternoon. There are, of course,
the beach bums and the surf rats, the locals in the cottages
a minute away, and people like me.

I don't like to swim, especially not in the ocean but I love
hearing the rhythms of the tides. Waves are a natural
metronome beating against the sand, I become both
spectator and student to the spectacle.

Life as rhythm-
everything else becomes secondary.

Passing Through

My phone began to ring, it was Will. We had been
pretty good friends through high school but had only
been in sporadic contact since he got married. He was
going to be in town on business for a few days and wanted
to know if we could meet for a drink the following night.
I suggested a bar in downtown called The Black Crow,
it never got so busy in there that you couldn't hear yourself
over other peoples conversations.

We agreed to meet at 8p.m. I arrived a few minutes early
just to make sure we'd get a good booth. The lamp above
the booth was dimmed to ensure there would be just enough
light to see each others faces and hardly anything else. I set
my jacket in the booth and walked over to the bar. "What'll
you be having?" said the bartender. I told him a gin & tonic
and to use something top-shelf. He set the fresh drink on
the counter and I set a ten dollar bill and walked away.

I was stirring my drink when I looked at my watch and
noticed that it was eight. Will walked in and began to scan
the room from the doorway. I raised my arm and he walked
right over. "Christ, it's been years!" he said. "Go get yourself
a drink and then we can catch up." I said. He came back
with a pint and a shot of whiskey, "To catching up," he said
as the stout shot glass and tumbler clinked.

We sat there emptying glasses and filling each other in on
the usual things men of our age have achieved. I told him
I was still single but had been dating around, and that if I
was lucky I was going to be getting a promotion at work
in the next couple of months. I asked him how things had
been with him and Nancy, "Funny you should bring her
up. Have you heard?" "No," I said, "about what?" He
lifted the pint glass and poured the last of its amber down
his throat.

It was strange hearing him say they were getting divorced,
I knew both of them when they first started dating in
high school. We would always hang out as a group with
our other friends. The two of them had always been the
center of that small group. After high school they moved
to the midwest and bought a home. They had their first child
shortly after.

"I let her have the house, it wasn't worth arguing about. I've
moved into an apartment on the other side of town, its actually
close to work for me. I can get there in half the time now."
By then, both of our glasses were empty. We could have
opened a glassware store with the collected empties. "Let me
get us another round," I said. He nodded his head at me as I
slid out of the booth.

I walked back with two pints and two shots of whiskey,
a little bit of the beer that had been peeking near the lip of the
glass spilled over and wet the table. He reached for the whiskey
and held it as steadily as he could. "To better days," I said.
"To better days," he said. "To better days."

Guts, Venom, Noise

Her hand was wrapped tight around the mic

as she screamed into it, her whole body jerked

forward. She righted herself and stared straight

into the eyes of the audience as she pointed

her left hand at them. The band was pushing

harder, the volume crept into flesh through

sonic osmosis. She swung around to face

the rhythm section, the drummer was staring

the snare drum down as his hair covered his

face like a veil. Her right foot was stomping

down on the floor waiting for the next chorus

and when it came- HARD. LOUD. Sounds

merged into one venomous voice, and then-

Silence. Applause scattered across the room.

After Work

The brown bag would have fooled no one had anyone 

walked by and seen it. There aren't many reasons to grip

a brown bag and put it to your lips. 

Work had been a bore that day, it usually was. He drove

to the liquor store near his house and bought a cheap 40oz.

bottle of malt liquor.

It wasn't just work that was boring, his life had fallen into

a rut that got deeper every time he woke up. The drink

was always something that soothed the dull ache.

From his porch he could see the glowing lights of neighboring 

windows. Occasionally a car would drive by at the speed limit.

His body glowed with an inner warmth.

It wasn't so bad now. Sleep would come soon. Night became 

a fading memory as the newspaper landed in the driveway.

Spectator/Performer

I walked out of the bar drenched in sweat belonging

to myself and others. The band had just finished playing

in the past five or so minutes. My body was not yet aware

of the aches it would remember the next morning. 

My ears echoed with the peal of bells ringing

in celebration of some victory; in a way that is what

the evening had been. The cool sea breeze hit my damp

body and electrified my skin once more. There were

a few tattooed, drunk, and deafened people leaning 

against the front of the building. I walked briskly 

to my car. I was parked just around the car. 

When I unlocked the door I was alone with my ringing

ears. It felt alien to be sitting down after standing

and fighting for footing for so long. I held my ground

during the band's set as best I could. I was up front

the entire time while the crowd surged heavily

and bruised my flesh. I tried to think of some music

to put on and could think of nothing that would

be a suitable follow-up. The keys fired up the ignition

as the engine shuddered to life. I rolled down 

the windows and began to drive through the streets,

wind gradually drying my body. I made it to the other 

side of town in 20 minutes flat. As I walked to the door

I could feel the blood surge to my hands and forearms,

the veins began to bulge. I couldn't wait to be up there.

Continuous Existence

A graveyard of cars buried

by growing grass,

the asphalt long since cracked

and hidden from view.

Rust is the only color

painting the aged metal.

Beneath the noon time sun

grass bows gently

in an Aeolian tribute

to power so great.

The ants carry on much

as always, much as they

always will.

Getting Ready

The last of the daylight entered

the house as he walked through 

the door. He set his bag on the couch

and went straight to the kitchen.

His parents went to visit his Aunt

because she was ill. They didn't want
him to miss mid-terms that day,

so they decided to leave him alone

for the weekend. He grabbed a cold

soda from the fridge and stood

at the front door. The neighborhood

was silent but for the passing wind.

The lights of dinner-time filled 

the windows of the neighbors across

the street. Sweet coolness bubbled

past his lips, pooled in his stomach.

Stars were fading into view 

as the canvas changed with the ease

of a chameleon. Sandy said she'd

call when she was ready to come 

over. His bed was made, she said

she'd bring something for them 

to drink. The headlights of a car

appeared in the distance 

and moved closer. As the car began

to pass the house, the phone 

started ringing. He raced for it

and grabbed it before the machine

picked up. Her voice was clear,

I'll be there in fifteen minutes.

He could hear her smile. Ok,

he said, and went to change.

Must we grow

callous 

to horror?

Passion Without Reason

bound to forget

bound to memory



nothing holds


tape is useless



even nails refuse

to stay in the walls

any longer



i am writing this

without walls

i am writing this

about you


hope you never

read this

hope you read

this


some day

and wonder

who it was

about

Recline

Stop it. You're being such an asshole.

She hated seeing him like this.

It was fine every now and then

but now it seemed to happen

every other day.

He couldn't hear her any more.

His head was resting against

the chair and his eyes were closed.

Even if he had been awake

he wouldn't have heard her,

wouldn't have cared.

Natural Selection At Work

Thinning the herd

is a service that nature

provides for free.

Blackout Time

again-
where are we now?

Fools with company,
who better than we

to find the darkness.
My face becomes

a mask contorting
to your words.

Found a place
on the floor,

your feet find me,
we meet face down

on the ground.
No more time.

The Painting Beyond The Frame

Before I died
I wasn't thinking about
the government, taxes, work,
or any of the things that I used
to get caught up in.
I thought about God,
or more accurately, whether
there was anything afterwards.
I was never much of a believer
in life. I'm still not sure
where I am or what is going on
but I can tell you this much,
it's much nicer being able
to see the scenery beyond
the frame of the painting.

Work

The car pulled out slowly 

from behind the off-white building. 

It was in no hurry.

The driver made sure to push

his former passenger

into a shaded corner 

of the back lot. 

The car pulled up to the first

stop sign and made a full stop.

He looked left, then right,

saw no one in either direction.

The speedometer moved up

and evened out at 35mph.

He tuned the radio

to the local country station,

it was the only one in town.

'Cocaine Blues' was on.

He rolled the window down

and enjoyed the breeze

across his face.

Sleepless

Sirens at 2 a.m. -

someone

must be having

a rough

night.

Springtime Armistice : 7 Chapters To A Better Everything

Chapter 1
Answering Questions No One Thought To Ask


Chapter 2
Imaginary Conversations With Real People


Chapter 3
A Life Without Shadows


Chapter 4
Noontime Ice In The Desert


Chapter 5
Every Apology Given, Forgotten


Chapter 6
Preaching Truth, Dismissing Falsehoods


Chapter 7
Walking With Braces and Crutches


Post-Script
Thanks and No Thanks

Stay As Long As You Like

Don't go so soon.
Stay as long as you like.
It's no bother.

You've been missed.
Won't you sit down?
I insist.

Would you like some
thing to drink?
I'll be right back.

Here you go.
Cheers.
To new beginnings.

It always feels like
this, doesn't it?
Something is always

changing, always
ending. Don't worry
too much about it,

just enjoy the moment.
It's so good to see you.
Where does time go?

Apocryphal Notes From After The Apocalypse

I don't remember much from my childhood,

it was then when everything happened.

They say it all changed

and I can see that-

but maybe it needed to change.

No one ever talks about that.

Things are more difficult now

but difficult in a way our ancestors

centuries ago would recognize.

All the usual worries are still here

but we got along

as well as we ever have.

There is silence in the ruins,

we have no need

to immortalize the mistakes,

we know well.

My skin is dark from the sun

but there is no other way

I would have it.

Mirrors

No two people

ever see 

the same reflection

in the mirror.

Making Friends with the Darkness

I can feel his hand
rest on mine
as my mind
falls into the nightly
routine of trust
in the unknown forces
behind the veil.
His hand is cold
against my warm flesh.
I can never see his face,
nor have I ever heard
his voice. He means no malice,
we both know the order
of natural law.
Each night is filled
with the trust
that there will be more,
until one day
there isn't.

When They Call

She called and said to come over
and see her. It was late
but I figured she probably
had good reason. I drove across
town to where she was staying-
it was her dads house
but he was gone for a few days.
I called her after I parked.
A light came on and the front door opened.
She stood there as I slammed
the car door closed. I'm sure
at least a few people heard it.
She hugged me tightly
as I came up to her.
Thank you so much for coming, 
she said into my ear.
Handmade oak furniture
dotted the living room.
She told me her Dad was a master
woodworker. I was impressed.
I looked at the time,
it was one in the morning. She sat next
to me on the couch and asked
if she could read me some of her
writing she had been prepping
for her final. I said, sure.
Her eyes focused intently on the page
as she looked down at words
between her hands. Her voice was
pleasant but tired. What do you think?
I told her that it could use some minor
revisions near the end
but that overall it was fine.
I asked her if I could see the paper
to make some notes. I pulled out
the pen from my coat and began
to mark up the pages.
I handed them back to her
and asked if there was
anything else she needed.
She said yes.

gratitude

just say

Thank You

when the time is right.

When? you wonder-

you'll know.