routine

tired after work

so you

drown yourself in a glass

bury yourself in a book

smoke from a pipe

tune out with a tv

and just

do anything

to make everything

ok

long enough

to start again

in the morning

You drown your sorrows in a glass of self-pity.

Faith

When I was in junior high
I remember thinking
how great it would be
to be a priest.

I went to Catholic School
and was brought up in the Church
by my family.

My Father is quite religious
and my Mother
believes
but doesn't go to Church
with the regularity
of my Father.

I remember being inspired
by Father Daniel
after our Eighth grade retreat.

He was such
a sweet and gentle man.

Father Daniel
passed away in my first year
or so of
high school.

I went to his funeral
ceremony at our church.

I was sad
at the potential
that was lost
with his passing.

I remember wanting
to be a priest

because of him.

Since then
I have doubted
my faith.

I have wandered
through the desert
of years

and wondered
from time
to time

the what ifs
of faith.

Father,
I have not forgotten
you.

I remember.

I remember.

canvas

the canvas is drunk with possibility

her words are slurred

     i listen closely

only the drunk

are honest to a fault

What thread through what cloth?

You do not miss that which

You do not need

I can leave the unnecessary

Parts of my life

Without any care or worry

My heart is not a metaphor

It is literal

My mind is ephemeral but

Retains corporeal housing

It cannot find a better place

To stay so it remains

Your better judgment is a

Captivating bore

You say you thirst only

Because your body

Pisses away all that which

Passes through

You say you’ve been in love

But never with anyone

You lie to no one but yourself

That is how it must be

You said to no one in particular

Even your heart didn’t listen

Fountain

There is a fountain within me

that does not care

which way the water flows.

The Gods have been good to me

but why?

On Sleep

I do not like to sleep
unless 
I have drained all the life 
within me
or numbed myself
into submission.

After Midnight

it becomes easier to drive
through city streets.
Drive fast enough
and lights blur
into the darkness.
You yawn because
you are supposed to be
sleeping and your body
wants to remind you.
There is a red light ahead.
You approach
but do not let your foot
touch the brake.
Playing chicken
finally
the light relents.
You continue un-
obstructed.

a measure of happiness

I asked her once how
often she masturbated
and was surprised
when she said
at least once a day.
She laughed a little
after she told me,
I laughed as well.
I remember thinking
that women
didn't masturbate
as often as men.
I don't know
how I could have
held that thought,
but I did.
We haven't seen
each other in a very
long time.
She's been married
and from what
I've gathered-
recently divorced.
I hope she continues
to bring herself
happiness
because this world
doesn't always
spread it
as evenly as
it should.

Two Versions of the Same Idea

1.)

If something is valuable to you
you must
give it away.

2.)

In time
we all give up
that which
is most valuable
to us.

F.A.I.C.

FERAL

AND

IN

CONTROL

How strange it is to feel
broken
and not know
where
or how. 

Quote Me On This

Complacency is a slow growing cancer.

erase the words written in pencil

upon the page

though the page is marked 

it is still ready to be written upon

Questionnaire

Do you know how your grandparents fell in love?
Did they struggle and if so, how?
Did they lose a child,
a relative you never knew you had?

Have you asked your parents how they fell in love?
Did they wait for approval?
Did they elope
and leave home?

Have you ever been in love?
Do you remember how you felt the last time
someone broke your heart?
Are you in love right now?

Special instructions: attach any additional paper
required to provide an adequate response.

Pool

toss your heart into the pool
and cross your fingers

if it is strong
                    it will not sink
it will swim 
                    if it is weak
it will sink

blood red streaks
like dissipating clouds

you watch
and hope it's will 
can carry it through 

corporeal

I never found out
whether they buried him
or turned him to ash

I suppose it doesn't matter

I remember his memorial
service
filled with people

shocked and in grief
at such a premature departure

I don't need to know
the answer the my question

it changes nothing

Cold bruised skin.

What was the story

before the hard stop?

A Day Like This

I cannot will my mind to nothingness
on a day
such as this-

sitting at my desk
the ambient sounds
of birds in trees
while a plane
flies overhead.

I cannot decipher the language
being chirped
because it is not for me to know.

Stillness cannot be bought
only attained
in measured doses
with much effort.

Even then
there is no guarantee
of finding that elusive
state of being.

My mind fills with thoughts
of worry and
needs to be filled.

Unease is an easy thing to find.

My worries are temporary
stops that are given too much weight.

If I could speak to you directly
I do not know what words I would have
for you.

              Do you have words for me?

If either of us have any questions
let us raise our hands now
and call on each other in the order
our hands went up.

all music is obscure to someone

so lips may kiss
proving themselves real
doing away with all doubt

There is comfort in our grief.

Piece of Truth

There is much we have yet to learn about 
this world we profess to have mastered.

Going to Church

bleached white pigeon bones
resting on the dewy grass
as I walked to church with my family

I stared at the nearly complete skeleton
I had never seen anything like that
in my young life

the form of it's former self
firmly in place
as though flesh and feather

had left for an appointment
the bones were not invited to
I stared as long as I could

until they pulled me by the hand and
I ambled along thinking
about something I can longer remember

three scenes from a notebook

the heart can always break   further
frag menting into
shards of glass
glittering in the night


the startling difference between who I've always been
and who I was


Time is the unknown quantity
and we are
always trying to solve for x

use this line wisely
do not make waste in this space
words as black as night

start here

write a love poem
but do not talk about love
talk about everything else
anything else
but love
fill it with non-sense
and the occasional bit
of sense
until there is a semblance
of cohesion
though
that will be illusory at best
do not mention
a beloved
at all
for any reason
you don't want
to be too sentimental
or others will think you
to not be a serious writer
do not mention
the word
love
and especially
don't leave it to stand
on it's own line
that would be annoying
use obtuse language
to form vague images
you do not wish
to make things too easy
keep working
until no one is sure
what the piece means
until the reader
starts to question
their idea of love
if your loved one is
sitting next to you at any point
while you are reading this aloud
or silently to each other
this is when you
turn to look at each other

Bored to Deaf

When does the princess

get to rescue the prince?

unseen compass

You are magnetic
north

pointing me to a pole
I cannot see

I follow
because I must

I follow because
nature compels me

The Choices of Freedom

How are we free

if all we are free to choose

is the cage that suits us best?

breaks

If our hearts could not break

how would we know

we still lived?

Possible

Everything impossible

will happen

given enough time.

Those Passing

Waves wash over my heart.

It trembles.

I shudder

as the ocean moves

within my chest.

Togetherness

Through this window
the dawn.
For now,
the silence of early morning
echoing
between houses.
I listen intently.
Dreams are being seen
and finished
before eyes open
and interpretation begins.
Restless bodies tossing
between sheets,
others comfortably asleep.
Bodies pressing close
or pulling apart.
A man's stubble grazes
the skin
of a woman's face.
She does not pull away.

Recovery

My mind will not sleep

so I indulge it this evening

as we stay up together

listening to the night

    steady sounds beneathe 

    the tips of my fingers

caked sweat dried 

on my skin from 

    another time

 

    another place

beasts

Hearts are wild creatures that 

can't help themselves 

when it comes to those they love.

"Wild, irrational beasts."