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.

Notebook Dump #18

Hot nights leave me sleepless
and restless. Even the open window
is not enough to cool down
a tired and weary body.

Can we ever leave this lonely place?

Notebook Dump #16

Can it ever be said
that trees can whistle
when they have nothing
resembling lips?


Secret creep.

Notebook Dump #15

If someone asks

Do you remember your dreams

Do you think they are referring to
what your mind sees every night or
what you have wanted from life?

Are we so helpless?
Are we more than this?
Caught between lives,
This can't be all of it.

Salting the earth beneath our feet,
The future grows inside your belly.

Even The Turkey Could Say Nothing

She had the nerve to ruin dinner
by telling everyone she was dropping
out of school and moving to Vermont
to live in a small town.

She said she couldn't see the point
in education anymore. Everything
she ever learned she had forgotten,
or so she said.

Her Mother cried, her Father fumed
and the Turkey sat on the table
without a word. Her parents thought
her to be selfish but she disagreed.

How could they be so upset,
she wondered to herself. Don't they
want me to be happy? Don't they
want me to find my path?

It was then she learned how differently
we measure happiness. The turkey
could express no further disapproval
as it was carved away from existence.

Tidal Song

Let's fall asleep on the sand
Let the surf lull us to sleep

Keeping warm together
Sand gets everywhere
Nowhere else I'd rather be

Let's wake on the sand
Let the surf bring us to light

Keeping Time

My heart is an unsteady metronome

It can't help be off time 

     when you're around

Jumping 

     ahead of the beat

It rushes at your touch

Tell me

How is your metronome today?

All this boredom is mine.

Hollow Rabbit

Hollow like your chocolate rabbit
Don't let me melt in the sun
I'm afraid to lose my form
Let me melt in your hands

Eat me whole
Break me apart
Piece by piece

Thrown Into The Water

I'm a tired bore
Driving home from work
Every day
This traffic
My time
This grind
Wearing me away
Smooth like a pebble
In your hand
Throw me into the water
Watch the ripples
As I sink

Sunset 3/23/15

There is very little that any of us
can claim to truly own in our lives.
Almost everything we have
can be taken away from us
at almost any point.
How does this make me feel?
It makes me feel awed and helpless
but not without hope.
Does the sand feel powerless
at the strength of the ocean?
It does not consider it.
The sand moves and shifts
from beach to water.
I see myself as part of
a larger whole,
one that does not end
when we do. Our consciousness
is a flicker of a light
burning bright
in an existence that is
marginally aware of us.
I feel no attachment
to institutions of power.
These forces rage
against that which encroaches
upon them. Their power
is nothing more
than a toddler gripping
the finger of a parent.
Time will strip us of everything.
Friends.
Parents.
Spouses.
Heros.
Possessions.
Memory.
Our lives.
I feel it impossible to surrender
until the day
I must.
I will
relent to the forces
that created us
and will us
back to an eternal whole.

The Preacher

I'm too deep in dreams to ever see the sunrise.
I have seen the sunset many times
over many places
and I never fail to find beauty
in the transition from light to dark.
Blue skies smear with pastels
that gradually darken and fade
until a singular eye
glows across the ocean.
Standing at the beach late at night
I have often wondered about the confluence
of sky and water.
If I were there alone in a boat
would I remember what was ocean
and what was sky?
Would I forget both
and feel only one plane
encompassing both fully?
What would it be like to see a sunrise
from there? Transitioning from dark
to light, to see the sky
give birth to our world once more.
After viewing that
I could begin a new faith
and preach,
not of god and sin,
but of a simple truth
found in an ancient order
that persists everywhere.

Monsters Who Became Men

postcard in the mail
memories tied together
we still remember

Sleep whenever

Go to bed early to get up early.

Why do I need to get up early?

It's what you do when you are a responsible adult.

What does getting up early have anything to do
with responsibility?

It probably means you weren't being a drunken
irresponsible idiot the night before.

What if I wasn't drinking?
What if I just like sleeping in late?

You'll have more time to work, to see people,
to go out at night.

How am I going to go out at night if 
I have to be up early?

Just go to sleep.

Right.

Something and Nothing

I remember the time I sat at the end of the bar
waiting for you to come. I waited so long,
long enough to think you were not coming.

I had just finished my first drink when you
walked through the doors. You said you were
sorry for running so late. Don't worry about it,

I said. Well, I'm pretty sure that's what I said.
The voices of that busy night became a steady
chatter of indistinct drunkenness easily ignored.

We lost hours to drinks and talk. Our honesty
came easy but grew quicker with each empty
glass. What were doing that night?

Drinking. Talking. Drinking. Talking. Ignoring
everything until the next day. Was our talk
small? Was it too big? Or was it just right?

We had to leave so we left. What did we leave
in those empty glasses? Maybe a sliver of ice,
more likely, nothing at all.

Flowers & Fruit

The dog doesn't care for roses.
He prefers the apple tree and the fruit
from its branches.
Beauty from each will linger
in memory once the form of both
has disappeared.

Ask if I love you

Does the Sun long for the Moon

Tides brushing the shore

Childhood

I sat on the grass while my

small hands pulled at the green 

growing all around me.

I stretched for the dandelion

that was an inch out of reach

and I pulled it from the ground.

White cotton-like tuffs

were picked up by the light breeze,

I brought the oozing stem to my mouth

and let the drops of white fall

onto my tongue.

I recoiled and spat out 

everything I could

to try and forget 

that bitter taste.

Alone together

in our solitude

Encompass

Life conspires against us without ever really trying.
We can only look at Her and tell ourselves
that it's fine    it's ok    that we don't mind.
We fill distance with intermittent transmissions
to better solidify the bonds we profess to.
How many ways can we say
love? How many ways can we say
you? How many ways can we say
I? Those words are limited in what
they can convey. We are limited
by time and physical need but feed
on that which has no physical presence
but whose effects are felt
in the same way a still pond
with a thousand pebbles thrown
into it at once. What is the point
of describing the longing desire
that makes one ache and yearn?
There is a point. We can understand
each other in this way. The I and you
does not have to be us. It can be anyone.
But for now let us say a simple sentence
to one another. Three syllables can be
the whole of the world.

Real Lives

are neater and more organized.

Real lives are more predictable and financially stable.

Real lives offer healthcare.

Real lives are serious.

Real lives don't have time to waste.

Real lives aren't dead ends.

Real lives are offer

spiritual, emotional, and physical fulfillment.

Real lives are had by others.

Real lives are had by people who are homeowners.

Real lives have marriages and kids.

Real lives don't worry about the rent

or mortgage.

Real lives have tidy gardens.

Real lives have vacations.

Real life? What have I been doing

for so long?

I am listening.

How long must we live 
in these castles of our boredom?

Let go and let the tears flow