Vanna knows that melancholy
Friday, February 17, 2017
Vanna knows that melancholy
Monday, February 13, 2017
The sun talked to me today through my skin.
The pine trees made small talk about spring
with each gust of wind.
The snow whispered to me
with each step about
the fleetingness of winter.
The water laughed playing in the mud.
The rocks were quiet,
but only because they were thinking.
erotica these last few nights.
I took the short one.
when necessary or expedient
Wednesday, January 11, 2017
Friday, December 23, 2016
on I-75, last chances from Amazon
drone FedEx through the night
with heavy lidded drivers.
second shift is over at AK Steel,
cars leak from its parking lot
in twos and threes,
last call just an hour away.
the tree is radiant
with baubles and tinsel
gifts spread across the floor,
and wrapping still to be done.
here, everyone is asleep but me.
with a book in hand,
I worry too much this night
about things I cannot touch -
the weather, the scepter,
lost time. everything seems heavy,
and angels distant.
the stars have drowned in city lights so
I cannot get my bearings;
the old maps are all useless now
except for the florid inscriptions
at their edges: "here there be serpants."
winter solstice is two days past,
in bed, I turn out the lights,
and in the darkness wonder,
if the days
are really growing longer.
Sunday, December 11, 2016
fighting at the bus stop. The alcoholic bartender.
Wednesday, December 7, 2016
and the fast of it.
of the words of all our prophets and poets,
hold it all so close
that no one can see their shadows.
Thursday, November 10, 2016
When they throw their seeds to the wind and
There is nothing to hold them.
No angels or sun or rain.
As when a friend dies that you’ve been
Meaning to call but then you get the news and
Everything is broken glass.
That sniper’s dream, that place where
You can never run fast enough
And everything is far.
And another that ends with eternity.
And another that just ends and you realize
The sunrise ever does not wait.
The wonderment of G-D and what does this mean
And why does life hurt so much
When all you did was open your eyes
After a journey of blood and stars and months.
Only bare trees make sense,
Only clocks keep time,
Only babies give hope,
The impossible cost of truth
Forgiveness is given,
Born of forgetting that
They’ve done it a hundred times before.
For that moment when truth had a beating heart,
For when all that was thought lost was found,
And the night gained its stars.
Thursday, August 25, 2016
like someone late. Standing in a spacious green field, I
await lightening. I believe
in the unbelievable,
deny the unbelievable.
god is farther than words.
farther than “exist” or “non-exist”.
god does not make watches, but neither repairs them.
each breath is universe.
this life itself is truth.
each day, there is nowhere to go,
but the journey never ends;
no understanding, but no end
no miracles to believe,
except this beating heart,
Sunday, August 21, 2016
with a deep breath, my tired body slips
beneath sleep and drifts in its slow tides.
Wednesday, June 29, 2016
Tuesday, June 21, 2016
and how happy
it must be to be replaced
Monday, June 20, 2016
The blue rotary wall phone tied you