How wonderful would it be
to be admired for words written
in solitude and contemplation?
It would be a beautiful thing.
You might ask yourself,
'why doesn't everyone do this?'
and find yourself wondering
if, perhaps, everyone does.
Have you seen the snake
slithering on the ground, away
from you, meaning you no harm,
but yet, you were fearful?
Sunday, March 30, 2014
Thursday, March 27, 2014
Wednesday, March 26, 2014
What Sound? What Touch?
Outside our window the symphonic sounds
of the city rose into the room.
Car horns, excited voices, the young, the drunk,
all became part of the same movement.
I looked out but could see no conductor.
We drank the bottle of wine that we picked
on a whim some days earlier. It had been
a long wait, though, only a week had passed.
We were lucky to have had two cheap
plastic cups in which to pour the drink.
Restless, we moved from the bed, stood,
sat and wondered what to do with ourselves.
The wine spoke quietly to us one at a time,
relaying the same message.
Hands moved and found warmth.
of the city rose into the room.
Car horns, excited voices, the young, the drunk,
all became part of the same movement.
I looked out but could see no conductor.
We drank the bottle of wine that we picked
on a whim some days earlier. It had been
a long wait, though, only a week had passed.
We were lucky to have had two cheap
plastic cups in which to pour the drink.
Restless, we moved from the bed, stood,
sat and wondered what to do with ourselves.
The wine spoke quietly to us one at a time,
relaying the same message.
Hands moved and found warmth.
Monday, March 24, 2014
those who lead
My eyes are blind so I cannot see.
Can I grab your hand and lead you
to the sounds I hear?
Disconnect expectations.
Let your feet walk on new ground.
My skin feels the cold.
Hairs stand at attention.
Is that your hand on my neck?
Touch me there. I cannot see.
Is that your hand on my neck?
Can I grab your hand and lead you
to the sounds I hear?
Disconnect expectations.
Let your feet walk on new ground.
My skin feels the cold.
Hairs stand at attention.
Is that your hand on my neck?
Touch me there. I cannot see.
Is that your hand on my neck?
witness to memory
Words are not easy
when I think of what moves me
what makes me
feel like something matters
feel like I matter
but it matters to me
to have felt
something that
is beyond my means
to describe
when I am forced
to recall memory
and sensory details
of touch and
smell and taste
and vision
and accept them
into the fabric of thought
I cannot let go
when I think of what moves me
what makes me
feel like something matters
feel like I matter
but it matters to me
to have felt
something that
is beyond my means
to describe
when I am forced
to recall memory
and sensory details
of touch and
smell and taste
and vision
and accept them
into the fabric of thought
I cannot let go
Cracks Overhead
The blue sky cracks over me
Pieces tumble down
Shards of black hang overhead
Can you hear the cries
The voices calling out
No time left for good men
No one safe or innocent
Shards of sky raining down
Cries reach out over the waves
The voices calling out
Jagged quilt of black and blue
No comfort there for me
An empty chill
The voices calling out
grow quiet in the end
Pieces tumble down
Shards of black hang overhead
Can you hear the cries
The voices calling out
No time left for good men
No one safe or innocent
Shards of sky raining down
Cries reach out over the waves
The voices calling out
Jagged quilt of black and blue
No comfort there for me
An empty chill
The voices calling out
grow quiet in the end
Wednesday, March 19, 2014
5 Non-sequiturs
I.
Let us hope there is never
a cure for death.
II.
A Well Paid Hypocrite.
III.
Fighting the Angels.
IV.
Locked away all day.
V.
The extinction of light.
Tuesday, March 18, 2014
Petty Problems
My struggles are petty
and my dreams inconsequential.
The stars look indifferent tonight
and I don't blame them.
My phone looks at me through
its cracked face and wonders
how much longer until I put it
out of its misery.
Even my throat has been invaded
and overrun by unwelcome invaders.
and my dreams inconsequential.
The stars look indifferent tonight
and I don't blame them.
My phone looks at me through
its cracked face and wonders
how much longer until I put it
out of its misery.
Even my throat has been invaded
and overrun by unwelcome invaders.
Saturday, March 15, 2014
Two Observations
I.
The ability to be actively critical
and introspective makes all the difference
in our lives when the need to create change
is upon us.
II.
The company we keep close to us
makes all the difference.
The ability to be actively critical
and introspective makes all the difference
in our lives when the need to create change
is upon us.
II.
The company we keep close to us
makes all the difference.
Wednesday, March 12, 2014
Small Acts
Her voice was an accusatory howl
of the inconveniences
her friends would have to suffer
by making a phone call
to speak to myself.
The night carried on in this fashion
until it gave way
to departure,
to the moment my key turned
in the ignition,
til sparks gave birth to motion,
to approach a destination of relief.
Jesse saw me pull up
in the beaten shell of my car.
When my bruised body
made it to the bar
my drink of choice sat there
as if it had spent the entirety
of its life waiting for me.
A couple approaching middle-age
sat to my right,
a young couple sat to my left.
I felt so alone
to be without my loved one,
the source of my peace,
the one who calms
the tides in my life.
I emptied my pockets of
wallet, phone, notebook,
because of their bulk,
the way they always make
my pants feel
when bulging
with content,
with notes of action
and worry.
I asked the young man on my left
for a cigarette. It would go well
with my whiskey and beer.
It always does.
His girlfriend was drunk.
She slurred and stumbled
like a 19 year old
visiting their friend
for the first time at the state
university. Drinking their fill,
drinking the fill
for three.
Her boyfriend and I spoke
about music, about
the value of connecting
with those
of our inclination. She
jammed her way
between us.
Her breasts pressed against
my left arm,
they pressed harder
so I could feel the weight
of her body, the smell
of liquid relief
from her breath;
she pulled out her phone
and fumbled,
fumbled
like only the drunken
klutzes of the world can.
The couple on my right watched,
the blond girlfriend
took a long drag
from the cigarette she had bummed
from the drunken girl.
I drew a long pull
of alcohol down my throat,
to numb the recent hours,
to let go of the pain
of a loved ones absence.
Me and the young man exchanged
contact information,
made a promise to
be in touch,
to listen to the art we created.
Jesse placed my second round
in front of me.
The whiskey was already sweating
in its tumbler.
The young was closing out his tab
when I went to pay
for my second round
of beer and whiskey.
There had been
a twenty dollar bill
in there. It had slipped away
like so many voices gone mute.
I asked aloud,
"Did I put a twenty on the counter?"
Jesse said he hadn't seen it.
I emptied my pockets
in a futile search
that turned up
only a napkin
with snot crusted into it.
The girl was gone.
The young man offered to buy
me that round sitting in front of me.
I told him it was ok.
That twenty had to be there.
I said we'd be in touch
as he walked out.
The stools on my left
were now empty.
The couple on my right had been
talking amongst themselves.
The woman leaned in.
I saw her rummaging through
your wallet. I didn't want
to say anything
after the day I had at work.
I'm so sorry. I'm sorry
I didn't say anything.
I wanted to
but it had been such a rough day.
I told her to not worry.
I had suspected as much
when I opened my empty wallet
and saw my license
moved to the opposite
space it normally
didn't occupy.
She told me she was sorry.
She saw her
going through my wallet.
I said it was ok.
I understood.
It had been a rough
night for me as well.
I was missing
my girlfriend.
Wanting her there.
If I could
have been in her arms
I would have
but the intoxicating
glow of liquid
spirits would have to do.
She asked if she could
buy me a drink.
I said it was ok.
She didn't have to,
that in the grand scheme
of things
it didn't matter.
She insisted.
Jesse poured
us shots of the good shit
that I normally couldn't afford.
We drank them down,
a small fire burning,
a reminder of vitality,
a reminder of the perpetual present
of our brief lives.
Her boyfriend was in the bag.
He had reached his limit.
She leaned over
to tell me
that she hoped
he would fuck
her brains out when they
got home. I told her
I hoped it would work out.
She said
she wished she had said something
when she it happening.
I told her
to not worry.
That I would rather be
with my girlfriend.
That twenty-dollars
was an acceptable loss
compared to the horror
and agony of those
in less fortunate positions than I.
I asked her to do me a small favor,
to look after my now empty wallet
sitting on the counter while
I took a piss. She agreed.
When I was done
I sat back down
and we began to talk about our days,
how glad we were to have them
behind us.
I grabbed my wallet
to tell her that I was glad
that the young girl
hadn't taken the check
I had in there.
When I open the worn
leather bill fold
there was a twenty-dollar bill
resting in front of the check
once more.
I looked down
and then up at her.
She smiled at me
and reached for my hand.
We touched for a moment
and she said,
don't worry about it.
of the inconveniences
her friends would have to suffer
by making a phone call
to speak to myself.
The night carried on in this fashion
until it gave way
to departure,
to the moment my key turned
in the ignition,
til sparks gave birth to motion,
to approach a destination of relief.
Jesse saw me pull up
in the beaten shell of my car.
When my bruised body
made it to the bar
my drink of choice sat there
as if it had spent the entirety
of its life waiting for me.
A couple approaching middle-age
sat to my right,
a young couple sat to my left.
I felt so alone
to be without my loved one,
the source of my peace,
the one who calms
the tides in my life.
I emptied my pockets of
wallet, phone, notebook,
because of their bulk,
the way they always make
my pants feel
when bulging
with content,
with notes of action
and worry.
I asked the young man on my left
for a cigarette. It would go well
with my whiskey and beer.
It always does.
His girlfriend was drunk.
She slurred and stumbled
like a 19 year old
visiting their friend
for the first time at the state
university. Drinking their fill,
drinking the fill
for three.
Her boyfriend and I spoke
about music, about
the value of connecting
with those
of our inclination. She
jammed her way
between us.
Her breasts pressed against
my left arm,
they pressed harder
so I could feel the weight
of her body, the smell
of liquid relief
from her breath;
she pulled out her phone
and fumbled,
fumbled
like only the drunken
klutzes of the world can.
The couple on my right watched,
the blond girlfriend
took a long drag
from the cigarette she had bummed
from the drunken girl.
I drew a long pull
of alcohol down my throat,
to numb the recent hours,
to let go of the pain
of a loved ones absence.
Me and the young man exchanged
contact information,
made a promise to
be in touch,
to listen to the art we created.
Jesse placed my second round
in front of me.
The whiskey was already sweating
in its tumbler.
The young was closing out his tab
when I went to pay
for my second round
of beer and whiskey.
There had been
a twenty dollar bill
in there. It had slipped away
like so many voices gone mute.
I asked aloud,
"Did I put a twenty on the counter?"
Jesse said he hadn't seen it.
I emptied my pockets
in a futile search
that turned up
only a napkin
with snot crusted into it.
The girl was gone.
The young man offered to buy
me that round sitting in front of me.
I told him it was ok.
That twenty had to be there.
I said we'd be in touch
as he walked out.
The stools on my left
were now empty.
The couple on my right had been
talking amongst themselves.
The woman leaned in.
I saw her rummaging through
your wallet. I didn't want
to say anything
after the day I had at work.
I'm so sorry. I'm sorry
I didn't say anything.
I wanted to
but it had been such a rough day.
I told her to not worry.
I had suspected as much
when I opened my empty wallet
and saw my license
moved to the opposite
space it normally
didn't occupy.
She told me she was sorry.
She saw her
going through my wallet.
I said it was ok.
I understood.
It had been a rough
night for me as well.
I was missing
my girlfriend.
Wanting her there.
If I could
have been in her arms
I would have
but the intoxicating
glow of liquid
spirits would have to do.
She asked if she could
buy me a drink.
I said it was ok.
She didn't have to,
that in the grand scheme
of things
it didn't matter.
She insisted.
Jesse poured
us shots of the good shit
that I normally couldn't afford.
We drank them down,
a small fire burning,
a reminder of vitality,
a reminder of the perpetual present
of our brief lives.
Her boyfriend was in the bag.
He had reached his limit.
She leaned over
to tell me
that she hoped
he would fuck
her brains out when they
got home. I told her
I hoped it would work out.
She said
she wished she had said something
when she it happening.
I told her
to not worry.
That I would rather be
with my girlfriend.
That twenty-dollars
was an acceptable loss
compared to the horror
and agony of those
in less fortunate positions than I.
I asked her to do me a small favor,
to look after my now empty wallet
sitting on the counter while
I took a piss. She agreed.
When I was done
I sat back down
and we began to talk about our days,
how glad we were to have them
behind us.
I grabbed my wallet
to tell her that I was glad
that the young girl
hadn't taken the check
I had in there.
When I open the worn
leather bill fold
there was a twenty-dollar bill
resting in front of the check
once more.
I looked down
and then up at her.
She smiled at me
and reached for my hand.
We touched for a moment
and she said,
don't worry about it.
Sunday, March 9, 2014
Saturday, March 8, 2014
Thursday, March 6, 2014
Monday, March 3, 2014
Hold Your Mother's Hand
A specter of war looms in the news
but I am not thinking about
those who are fighting,
those who have died,
those who will die.
I am thinking about a young boy
with a tumor in his brain.
I am thinking about a friend
undergoing chemotherapy.
I am also thinking about a friend with
malignant tumors in one of her lungs.
The young boy may not live to see five.
The chemo has taken her hair and breasts.
Her care is taking her to another coast.
Our frailty is not news.
Impermanence is fact.
My attention is split.
My mind wanders between thoughts
and hopes, stubs it's toes on the couch.
The war will happen.
If not between those countries
then between two others.
Those I know may live,
they may not.
I hope they do.
My voice feels very small.
Remember being a child
lost in the store
wondering where
your mother was?
but I am not thinking about
those who are fighting,
those who have died,
those who will die.
I am thinking about a young boy
with a tumor in his brain.
I am thinking about a friend
undergoing chemotherapy.
I am also thinking about a friend with
malignant tumors in one of her lungs.
The young boy may not live to see five.
The chemo has taken her hair and breasts.
Her care is taking her to another coast.
Our frailty is not news.
Impermanence is fact.
My attention is split.
My mind wanders between thoughts
and hopes, stubs it's toes on the couch.
The war will happen.
If not between those countries
then between two others.
Those I know may live,
they may not.
I hope they do.
My voice feels very small.
Remember being a child
lost in the store
wondering where
your mother was?
Hap
My happiness expands and contracts
because it is not a static thing.
My happiness doesn't care what it wears
as long as it is comfortable.
My happiness is experienced but not
blind to the world.
My happiness is ok with being sad
from time to time.
My happiness doesn't read comments
attached to online articles.
My happiness drives the speed limit.
My happiness is sure of itself.
My happiness prefers not to drink.
My happiness loves to be with others.
My happiness isn't sappy.
My happiness is ok with being hungry.
My happiness likes the way a kiss feels.
My happiness smiles when her hand
touches its skin.
My happiness is content to be alone
at home while the world spins in orbit.
because it is not a static thing.
My happiness doesn't care what it wears
as long as it is comfortable.
My happiness is experienced but not
blind to the world.
My happiness is ok with being sad
from time to time.
My happiness doesn't read comments
attached to online articles.
My happiness drives the speed limit.
My happiness is sure of itself.
My happiness prefers not to drink.
My happiness loves to be with others.
My happiness isn't sappy.
My happiness is ok with being hungry.
My happiness likes the way a kiss feels.
My happiness smiles when her hand
touches its skin.
My happiness is content to be alone
at home while the world spins in orbit.
let the daylight in
pull the blinds up
open the window
take a breath
run your hand
through your hair
drink some water
undress
turn on the faucet
watch the steam
rise up from
the hot water
step inside
it pours all over
wet skin
heart beating
mind wondering
what comes next
Sunday, March 2, 2014
Saturday, March 1, 2014
At birth
I had no face but I did not mind.
My parents were greatly troubled by it
but there was little they could do.
In the first hours after I was born
I gap appeared, then I had a mouth.
The next day my right eye appeared
where there had once only been
smooth skin. Two days after that my left
eye appeared in the same fashion.
Over the next month my nose grew
in steadily, as that finished my ears
began to come in. Finally, my eyebrows
and eyelashes grew in to complete
the human look.
I tell people about this from time to time,
most everyone doesn't believe me.
My parents have pictures of me
from this time but they prefer to keep them
between us. I don't think about the how
or why, I just know that I am now
as I was meant to be, just as flawed
and whole as any of us ought.
My parents were greatly troubled by it
but there was little they could do.
In the first hours after I was born
I gap appeared, then I had a mouth.
The next day my right eye appeared
where there had once only been
smooth skin. Two days after that my left
eye appeared in the same fashion.
Over the next month my nose grew
in steadily, as that finished my ears
began to come in. Finally, my eyebrows
and eyelashes grew in to complete
the human look.
I tell people about this from time to time,
most everyone doesn't believe me.
My parents have pictures of me
from this time but they prefer to keep them
between us. I don't think about the how
or why, I just know that I am now
as I was meant to be, just as flawed
and whole as any of us ought.
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