Kindness and Happiness

Sell your kindness 
for a penny and never collect.

Is this happiness of choice 
or convenience?

Taking Root

If I do not keep walking
my feet will take root in the ground
my arms will become branches bearing fruit
and my leaves will rustle at the touch
of an evening breeze

Memory will drain from me
Soaking soil
the land and I become one

Nesting

Alone now but not as lonely as before
Separate paths running parallel
Streets that never intersect
Moments living in eternal bubbles

I never went away
I've always been here
when you've come back

Nesting in the safe tree
Outside my window
The bird cannot see me
staring at her

These incomplete thoughts
find temporary shelter
living here

Hold my hand as it were your heart.

Being Your Own God

Association

FOCUS on an image. FOCUS on a word.
Pick one. It doesn't matter what it is. Let's
say FRUIT. FRUIT. Have you had one
today? What color was it? How did it taste?
Did you choke on a seed or swallow it?
Be SPECIFIC. APPLE. It was an APPLE.
It was GREEN and a little SOUR and was
CRISP when I bit into it. This is FICTION.
There was no APPLE TODAY. What was
THERE? THERE was WORK. WORK
was WORK. It was harmless and mindless.
Where did my mind GO? It didn't GO any
where. It was merely HERE. HERE. What
place is HERE? It is my room on a Friday
night, ALONE. ALONE? Yes. I can hear
the WAVES and WIND only because I
recorded them a few days ago. I am in a
ROOM ALONE. I could not be further
from the WATER. WATER WATER
everywhere or so we would hope. THEY
say we are running out of WATER. We
are. We have been reckless. We PRETEND
everything is fine. We will grow thirsty
without any WATER. Running through
sprinklers will be a thing of the past to
children dressed only in their underwear
on hot summer DAYS. DAYS run away
from US. They disappear behind US as
if they never were but they were for we
must LIVE with the consequences of our
CHOICES. CHOICES are free to be made
though often we feel as though we have
none. Having no choice is a choice. FREE
WILL. Let's not get started on this. We
will be here all night and we need our rest.

Unchained Ephemera

My obligations are a bore
and I'm sure they don't think
that much of me.

I'll out last them
I'll out live them
or so I hope

______


Bending in the wind
the grass has no choice
but to relent
to the breathe of our world

______

I grow irritated and impatient
the older I get

This is no failing of the world
It is the same

Only I have changed

______

How can we speak of understanding
and compassion
when parents still turn against
their children

______

Believe God to be a reflection
of our aspirations

Know that we fail and succeed
in equal measure

______

Driving late at night
Eyes tire in endless darkness
Roosters lie in sleep

______

Parceling out my thoughts into
digestible morsels

Try not to spit them out please

______

On Thrift Stores

Thrift stores are the remnants of 
lives forever changed, whether by 
death, divorce, or any other of the 
mundane misfortunes that dot our lives.

RE: The Muse

When the Muse finds you 
you better be ready 
to take her out on a date.

Dirt

Rolling in the dirt
don't forget where you came from

Rolling in the dirt
don't forget where you're going to

Rolling in the dirt
messing up all my clothes
Mother is not around
She'll never have to know

Rolling in the dirt
when it rains the ground
turns to mud

Freewrite 4/21/15

This has to be an act of pure spontaneity or else
it loses value, meaning, but there was never any
intent to imbue it with such. These thoughts are
meant to move naturally as though they were
actors on a stage performing at the height of
naturalness.  I cannot persuade myself to act in
any manner but those I have already done. This
is a failing many of us carry. It is because  of this
the world largely continues as it does. Don't take
this to mean anything. Language? Cut your tongue
so you can claim to speak many languages when,
in fact, all you know are a handful of dialects.
Birds have begun to nest in the branches of the
lemon tree. I know this because I hear them most
mornings. I doubt they know or care that I can
hear them, I watch them come and go. They can
say the same for me. We are both free but which
of us are more free? Is that a question worth
answering? Free? Will? Will never comes by any
more. He moved away a long time ago. I have
stayed in place but I begin to question my judge
-ment. Speak of possibility as though it was a
person. Possibility would be the unusually happy
friend we all seem to know at some point. Their
mania is not so much a concern as much as when
they have been brought to the ground. Can you
ever pick them up? Are they too heavy for you?
I thought I saw the sun but it was merely a flash
light in the distance. I swore I heard the ocean
but it was only cars in the streets driving by.
Mary was always only as contrary as most of us
tend to be. No more, no less. How did she get
such a reputation for contrariness? My wings
are not broken but they have yet to learn to fly.
My heart never had to learn to maintain its beat.
My mind has worked from the start but I wonder
if it knows the secrets even I have forgotten?
It must. Why conjecture? The royal we? Royalty
is such a silly thing we have made. Are we not
all the children of some supposed god? How
could he pick a favorite line of blood? We have
been quite misinformed, and no doubt, will waste
no time in telling us upon our death. Death. It all
comes back to our lives, fleeting moments that
dull in the passage of time. Years become indistinct
as we move forward. What happened to my twenties?
I know but I forget. I don't wish to let my life pass
without effort. I am a coward but I wish to be brave.
Who said that? Probably everyone. If not said aloud
it has been thought many a time. Thought can be
an impetus towards action. In this way we are all
brave.

There is a particular wisdom
in understanding that 
we should not be happy
all of the time. 

A selfish hand and 

a hungry mouth

are not to be trusted.

Simply Enough

I woke up and I was alive
and that alone
was enough.

Everything else in this day
exists in the shadow
of that event.

Why must we define WANT

and NEED?

My imaginary life

and my real life

long to be together.

The Inner Lives of Books

What type of conversations do sentences have
among themselves when the pages of a book are closed?

Do they prefer to keep quiet as they are pressed face
to face against one another?

Are they like people? Do they find each other attractive
based on factors such as vocabulary and syllable count?

Do some sentences sneak out at night and cram themselves
into the pages of other books?

What kind of fiasco would it be for one of Thomas Pynchon's
sentences to invade the work of Raymond Carver?

It would be an incongruency for the ages.
Is a book a god and each chapter a parent

to the sentences within it's reach?
I do not know. I should open one of my books

and ask it. It would be reluctant to speak
and no doubt there would sentences in the back pages

squirming under inquisition, wondering how I
found out of all these shenanigans.

I will stop wondering as I begin to fall asleep
and hope the lines find their way into my dreams.

If you are ready to listen 
I am ready to speak.

I Remembered Her Tonight

I filled a notebook with writing
because I was afraid of forgetting
what I was living,
what I was thinking.

When the notebook was filled
I set it on my desk
and piled books and papers
on it until it disappeared
from sight.

I never considered how it felt
to be so loved
and needed
then cast aside
when my use for it had passed.

I remembered her tonight
and pulled her out from the mess.

I have to yet to open her pages
but they are filled
and ready

to tell me all I have forgotten
and what I have yet to do.

Is the wind one voice 
speaking in many different tongues?

Hardhat Area

I am building without plans

I am building without materials

I am building without a crew

I am building with pure intent

I am building with passion

I am building with wind 

I am building with measured paces

I am building without sight

I am building nothing from everything

I am building a perfect image of life

I am building upon a cornerstone of love

I am building on the wreck of my life

I am building upon what has been laid

I am building on sandstone

I am building with salt

I am building with memory

I am building a new Rome

I am building future ruins

I am building a memorial to our kind

I am building nothing immortal

I am building what will outlast me

I am building daily

I am building in my sleep

I am building with bricks

I am building by moonlight

I am building and

         I see you are building too

Fat Head

My brain has grown fat
from all the books

I have fed it. It desires
to be more corpulent

and I will not deny
that for which it hungers.

It is morning

Open the blinds

Let the light in

Dear Friend

How quickly life can tear at our flesh
and undo the thin threads
that bind us.

Stand by my side
if I lay ill.

I will stay by your side
without you uttering a word.

Everything will be taken
in time but

I will fight until
my eyes grow too tired

to take in the fading sun.

An Answer. A Truth.

She was crying in the bathroom and there
was nothing I could do. I stood in the hall
and listened. After some time it grew quiet.
I was sitting on the floor with my back against
the door. I felt tired. I felt old. How long
were we destined to do this? How much failure
and heartbreak are we meant to take in one life?
There is an answer to that last question. Tell me
nothing. I don't want to know.

Consent

Did your day pass without notice?
Did work bury your mind
under a rainfall of urgent matters
and routine procedure?
As you sat in your car
and readied yourself
for the drive home
did you roll down the windows
so you could listen to the hum
of idling engines?
Are you staring at another
screen right now
or cradling pulped trees
in your hands?
I wonder about you.
Are you ok?
Is this fine?
Can you remember
when all of us
agreed to this?

Giving Life

All words are fragments
in thought

          and on the page.

The act of reading
brings life

to that

           which cannot

exist

with
       out
us.

Farming

Keep a space open
for me please.

When you come around
I'll have one for you.

Stay a week
or a long while

it'll be open
as long as you need.

I'll keep a space open
for you, Dear.

Plant a seed in me
and I'll let it bloom.

Bring the Sun
and the warmth

we all need.
Plant a seed

let it grow
from it's fruit I'll feed.

Impermanence

Bones can break.
Stone can erode.
Memories can be forgotten.

They say in billions of years
the Sun will swallow the Earth
and in the millions of years

that follow
even the Sun will cease
to be.

I will hold on to the grains of
sand in my shoe
until I am one as well.

On Promises

The past has been built on broken promises
must the future suffer the same fate?

The Push of Waves

Enough flesh had decayed from the head
that by the time I came across it at the beach
I could see the skull of the dead seal.

Patches of skin were gone but it largely
remained whole. I walked up to it,
curious to see such a creature up close.

I felt no sadness as I stood before it,
merely a sense of certainty at what befalls
all living things in time.

The waves rushed in and pushed the body
further up on the sand. It rolled over
and came to rest further from the water.

Wind bit my face as I pulled the hood
of my sweater over my head.
The tide inched closer by the moment.

It would not rest until it drowned my feet
or pushed me further from its touch.
In the end the ocean got what it wanted.

Heart of the Ocean

Wet sand covers my feet
as an airplane flies overhead.
There must be people looking
through their windows,
dimly aware of my existence
as they leave the ground.
The sea appears endless
from the beach
but it ends at every point
it touches shore.
I will never know
the deep heart of the ocean
but I know it is there,
filled with nothing,
filled with everything.
I can say the same about me.