01.11.2016

Rebellion


I crack the window,
Push fingers into icy winds,
Willing the whole of myself
to pool in fingertip;

Part of me sighs with relief,
And the other
gives into melting.

05.28.2015

Saturday, 9 AM


Fuzzy frequency,
out of tune with morning;
Familiar faces, voices,
occurrences dissipating
the line between memory
and the vanishing;
To welcome daylight’s easy wash
Or turn away for one more hour;
The déjà vu of ancient eyes,
pushing and pulling in dream.

05.23.2015

The USS What-if


What if the ship had gone down?
Beaten and battered,
Storm-logged and tattered
What if the ship had gone down?

What if she sailed nevermore?
Her broken debris
swept under the sea
What if she sailed nevermore?

What if she couldn’t repair?
Gave up and gave in,
let dark waters win
What if she couldn’t repair?

What if she in the deep drowned?
What if she’d tilted?
And in the waves wilted?
What if the ship had gone down?

05.22.2015

Ambient Silence


Kaleidoscope-spun emotions,
Great storm clouds rage in
open eyes;
Words cannot contain this.

05.20.2015

Pouring Light

Gradient back arched
In white-cerulean spray;
The sky and the sea making love

05.19.2015

Trivially Forlorn


On the bus today
the girl in front of me
picked a fly from the window.
She grabbed it by a wing
and it was gone.

I still don’t understand
the sadness that took me
in that moment,
But something of futility
haunts my mind:

The fly, most likely left
broken somewhere
on the dirty floor
continues its course,
traveling in tomb,
a stilled-rushing paradox of sorts,
Passengers unaware
of its trivial death
and perhaps more somber,
its life.

05.18.2015

The Art of Inspiration


A painting such as this
deserves to be seen;
more than looked at
or applauded
but truly seen, embraced
by a thousand layers
of the careful eye

A painting such as this,
subtle and rapturous,
gentle and powerful,
vivid and magical;
blinding sun-bright
rare magnificence,
deserves to be lived;

More than experienced
but lived, driven
into the deep crimson
of the heart, spread
throughout the whole;
moving, breathing, pulsing
its chorus of alive

A painting such as this,
none before nor after
shall ever compare.
I behold its splendor,
fire shooting through my veins,
breath caught in aching awe,
and marvel at the knowing;
no other shall ever witness it as I.

05.18.2015

I Guess


Disgusted with my thoughts,
bored stupid, I guess.

How a june bug might
get caught in my hair
or how a bird might
poop on me
as the odds are for it
happening again
should I live a while.

I wonder if or when
I’ll lock myself out,
get the stomach flu, or
the toilet overflow.

I'm annoyed with these thoughts,
small and irrelevant.

But they'll probably resurface.
The odds are for it, I guess.

05.16.2015

Again


We’re having spaghetti
again, tonight
We’ll watch tv
We’ll talk of nothing
We’ll stare at ipads
minds blindly numb
And get ready for bed

Then I’ll stand in my spot
before the brick
and persist to
avoid any thought
of my deep longing
Not in the mood
to cry, again

My God, how I wish
the wind would blow.

05.14.2015

Riding Again


Awkwardly, clumsily, fumblingly
First time on a bike in years
My tangled, mangled, stupid strings
Are caught, no seized, within the gears

Twas once a task easy in nature
Riding no-hands, proud and free
Until I fell and cracked my head
And broke two ribs and smashed my knee

After the wreck, things weren't the same
Tried to ride but was afraid
Didn't feel free but was ashamed
Parked my bike to flee being maimed

But now here I am trying again
'Time heals all wounds' guess it's true
Cause I'm gonna ride tight-gripped-awkward
Well, after untangling my shoe!

05.12.2015

Poetry bends to whisper
soft winds that brush open lips
sucked in held deep within the chest
slow warming till birthing flames
melting frozen trailing tears
inside beautiful release

04.27.2015

Almost Beautiful


To be-
Desired and longed for
Known, and still upheld
Seen, as rare and special
Worthy, of great love

This is-
The stirring of ashes
The waking of fire
The leap of the first kiss
The ache of the last

This is-
The fervor of youth
The will of passion
The charge of wild horses
on the surface of the heart

This is-
A feeling,
 Almost Beautiful-

But it isn’t love.