Thursday, April 26, 2012

i have never sat
with my back to an
open window during a storm

felt the back and forth
breeze upon my elbows

while listening to the sound of
nearby one way traffic

just staring

off into the air
exhaling the smoke
from my throat
lying against some
middle aged cedar

i have thought about
how i had never before
thought about this

(and maybe it turns out
that i am just too busy
when it storms)

i do not,
rather i do
want to

Wednesday, November 24, 2010


how i miss you
lightning bug
how i miss you
little one
how i miss the snow
my how you've grown

how i miss
you pretty babe
it'll just be
another day
says the man
from the radio

looking back
i understand things
which i never thought
i'd understand before

Sunday, August 22, 2010

you are you own

i may place one word
at your feet.

call this your own
you may

believe these words
i gift to you trapping

you are,your
own poem

guarantees are for,the lost,
we live with
belief in possibility

Friday, August 20, 2010

you topple over
black and you in
puddles brewed
beneath you
let your dark side
in(to fear) with
your pathetic
(you are pathetic)
if you wanted
to slice my face- if
you thought about
it long enough you
would hate my face.
giving away your
dark side.
i thought about
the end of it -
lengths and twists
forgot i
would not lend to you
oak oars
by lights to hear
only the story of you-
your hands clenched
and balled to death.

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

corner stored

I sat to watch in silence,
the resting Wren

who sat to watch in
silence a young pup

who will one day
be without a grand

father clause to come
Happen chance would

be the superstition of any
beast if these beasts knew
they had been lured by morning sun

Monday, August 16, 2010

for rest

i should take

this pill

either or

neither one

or dream

where once trees

of long years were

raised, i have seen

cemeteries in their


we make room for

the dead. we make room

for the old. where

two lives tip

we've let one fall


beneath the earth

sunken and whole

i picked from her

the seeds

of long years coming,

the sun children

who would one day

reach out as tall

as their gratitude

beneath them

the rotted earth

the musk and dirt

would lie those

forgotten and unknown