Common wisdom 
isn't as common
as you would think.

A Wait

It was four in the afternoon but it was his first time outside
that day. His eyes took an extra few seconds to adjust to
the overwhelming brightness of the sun. It was no surprise
that the driveway was as hot as it was on his bare feet.
She had left him a message saying she would be there
but he didn't see her or her car anywhere. He stood on the
sidewalk with his left hand shielding his eyes. She had
 to show up. She never ran late. Five minutes passed,
nothing. He went inside, disappointed. It wasn't like her.
He cracked open a beer from the refrigerator. He sucked
down half of it in one pull. His body began to sink into
the soft cushions of the couch. Where was she? Why had
she not called? He finished the rest of the beer and sprawled
himself on the couch. Each breath rose and fell with precise
regularity. His mind went on standby. As he lost track of
the time he could have sworn he heard the doorbell.

I don't want to cheat death,
I want to beat it fair and square.

This Is All

There is not enough time.

The alarm didn't go off.

The hot water is too hot.

There is only decaf.

The car is almost out of gas.

There is too much traffic.

There is an accident on the freeway.

There was a fatality.

The parking lot is full.

The meeting was postponed. 

There is talk of rain.

The wrong person just called.

There's no time for lunch.

The body is hungry.

The hours are crawling.

The daylight slips away.

There is too much traffic.

There is an accident on the freeway.

There was a collision.

There is a note taped to the door.

There is nothing to say.

Past Lives/Present Fictions

Let's get rad together, forever.

Sometimes it's just nice 
to be awake
early in the morning.

The Past and Future Lives of Ghosts

Am I ready to go back?
I ask myself this question from time to time
as I remember
the pains of my bodies as I aged,
as woman and man,
as baby, child, and adolescent.
My heart and mind suffered
the changing times,
the constancy of our fallibility.
To be freed of corporeal restraints,
such joy! My lives have become
a continuous film with moments
of intermission as I drift
in the bliss of renewal.
There is a bit of sadness as
short-sighted perspectives rule,
it will not always be so,
though it may seem that way.
I cannot wait for my moment
to return, to feel the touch of a world
ready to be changed once more.

Breath & Buck

Dreams breath and buck
against soft restraints holding them
by the wrist.

I leave the window open at night
so I can feel the chill of evening.

Work will be the same today
as it was yesterday, as it was
a year ago, as it will be in a week.

My heart slows when driving,
my mind begins to wander
restlessly.

We are not trapped in amber,
merely in a place of our own
voluntary surrender.

Have we sold our eyes for a vision
that is a facsimile of life?

My feet miss the water, miss
the waves, miss the rush of the tide
as it desires to run up my legs.

I do not wish to be numb or blind,
only to achieve a closeness,
only to be free of the unnecessary.

bells

The church bells echo through the neighborhood
as they always have. I can not think of a time
where their sound did not punctuate the day.

As a child I always wanted to take the stairs up
towards the bell tower. Those steps were gated
off so I have yet to see them. I thought of what

it would be like to stand by them in their silence,
how massive it would be to stand in their presence
as they were struck and began to fill the world.

Perhaps

once we have fallen 

we can look up 

and see how vast 

and beautiful 

the sky truly is.

5 fragments

invocation of the apocalypse

united through mutual fear and awe

sights too wondrous to be denied
to horrific to question eternity

my bones are not for sale
I haven't even died

There's nothing alcohol can't fix or fuck up.

Singing into the void.

There is life growing in the dirt, like it always has.

The World Above

Conquering the sky

We swallowed each others light

God could have laughed but maintained
established silence

Fields of fractured black
and broken blue

Walking hand in hand

Swallowing light

A new Eden
found in conquered plains

Leaves Speaking

The leaves are restless
and have begun to speak in waves.

Are they speaking to the Sun?
Is there an urgent message for me?

I'm not sure. I am listening,
hoping to decode an ancient tongue. 

Topographical Map of My Soul

Reclaimed by the Earth

tethered

The early morning chill creeps onto my skin
and causes my flesh to bump with geese.

I should close the window but I leave it cast
open wide because otherwise I could not

hear the sounds of the day which is beginning.
The world begins with the dissolving of darkness

from the horizon, sky being painted over in a shifting
palette of pastels, smearing, smudging, lightening

by the movement of the planetary axis. This is
a common miracle we often miss because of sleep,

because we are tired and half awake while preparing
for work and fixing bag lunches for the children

to take to school. The ambient sounds of early morning
peace become subsumed by the restless vigor

of our daily demands, work, and other obligations
that consume the hours of our short time.

The sun is not aware that we orbit around it, or any
of our names. The weight of its being is so great

that it never has the time for details, just the constant
journey for which it burns through infinite darkness.

Gazing Down

The ocean is in no hurry as we stand together,
waiting for the next wave to come.

Cold water washes over our feet, gently pulling
sand beneath us back to depths we cannot see.

Overcast skies watch us through a gray haze,
but what must the Sun think as it sits pendulous

in the heavens, looking down at the swirling
pools of blue surrounding the small pieces

of land some of us call home. Does the Moon
wonder the same things? Or does she see us

as constantly tired creatures, sleeping under
her calm gaze? Perhaps she worries about

those who cannot rest, or those who work
overnight, getting home just in time to miss

the first rays of a new day. How often do
the Sun and Moon embrace? Not often

enough, though they take delight in waves
crossing distances, watching creatures

as helpless as we, holding each other
to create a small fire of warmth.

6 a.m.

The groggy sun is just beginning to rise.
Birds chirping in the trees
are hungry.
The black horizon begins
to metamorphose
shade by shade
into a gradual blue.
If there were a rooster near
it would begin to crow
but there is not.
Yawn stretched mouths,
hand rubbed eyes
pinned by green crusted corners
are getting used to being open again.
Hot coffee is starting to pour
into the pot
as she remembers
the cream has expired.
She adds it to her list
for the grocery store
after she gets off work.
5 p.m.may as well be a life time away