In a rare moment of diluted clarity
I realize:
I will never be doing exactly what I want
Just an off-brand, Walmart version of it.
19 Friday Aug 2016
Posted Poems
in06 Saturday Aug 2016
Posted Poems
in31 Sunday Jul 2016
Posted Poems
inHow will I know that you are strong?
When I have built a house!
When I have lifted heavy burdens!
How will I know that you are true?
When I have crossed my heart!
When I have planted a tree!
How will I know that you are love?
When I have brewed the coffee.
When I have poured it for you.
25 Monday Jul 2016
Posted Poems
inI love.
That is the beginning of the poem.
It may be worth mentioning
The sun rises without being asked
And is sometimes even begged to stay down
So we can sleep a while more
But once dawn is broken
I am awake
I love.
Out beyond this field is another
For you, for me
There are endless fields
I cannot follow you to each and
Must tend to my own
But this field will always be
Shared farmland, a place where
I love.
I love.
That is the ending of the poem.
24 Sunday Jul 2016
Posted Poems
inIt is safe to say
I have let feelings pile up
Like dishes on countertops
There’s a sound and a weight when I stack them
Higher and higher and
Perhaps a smell too, but one that is bearable
For a time, anyways
Having now had you as you are
It is safe to say
I have let feelings pile up
I have let the earth rotate in its careful way
I have let long afternoons grow longer, but
Now it is
Safe to say
In a murmur that is less of a murmur
And more of a shout
That I have
I have
I— !
23 Saturday Jul 2016
Posted Poems
inThe wide afternoons of Before were over
The moment the door was left open and the complex was briefly silent.
I know for certain one moment must always follow another, but
There was only After after that.
There are gifts in different degrees
I’m trying to picture one.
(Was it only one?)
I’m trying to picture—
Can I just say
It’s hard to call a boy beautiful and not offend him in some way
It’s hard to call a boy a boy and not offend him in some way
But offend is the last thing I would do—
What I’m trying to picture is
Beautiful;
Three flights of stairs were worth this
Waiting was worth this.
It’s always seemed so brave to me
That people kiss with their eyes closed
Without a doubt the event is occurring
But I peeked twice to be sure.
(Does that mean I’m not brave?)
It was more than one gift after all
It was a collection of them.
Not unlike a museum curator, I am trying
Not only to picture
But to preserve
The collection of gifts
If it can be given
If it can be kept.
22 Friday Jul 2016
Posted Poems
in30 Thursday Jun 2016
Posted Poems
inOn the walk back from the bathroom at 1:30am
I discover
My right arm
Reaches out to my side
Touches the familiar objects,
Landmarks in my house I know are there
even in the dark
As I pass through the space.
My left arm is poised
Its elbow bent at a 90-degree angle to the floor
Palm facing upwards.
THIS IS AN INVESTIGATION OF
THE PALM FACING UPWARDS
NO
THIS IS AN INVESTIGATION OF
WHY THE HECK I’M AWAKE AT 1:30AM
NO
THIS IS AN INVESTIGATION OF
OF
No—
This is not an investigation of anything,
This is a poem.
28 Tuesday Jun 2016
Posted Poems
inAfter weeks of constant travel,
The road that lay before me began to feel
more familiar than the structure bearing the title
of My Home.
I could show a stranger my hotel room and say
this is My Room, here, I’ll give you the grand tour!
My Soaps and disposable toothbrushes are on the counter
in the bathroom-
I can call the front desk if you forgot your own.
Those soaps and toothbrushes will be your own now.
My Snacks are sparse, but you’re welcome to whatever’s
on top of My Dresser there.
Room service’s a bust.
But there are at least a dozen channels on My T.V.!
The décor is somewhat out of style
Redecorating is out of the question,
don’t be silly,
I’ll be gone in a few days’ time anyhow
maybe even as soon as tomorrow.
Headed back out to I-95.
It could be south to FL
Or north to MA;
I could ride the east coast
Til I die.
08 Wednesday Jun 2016
Posted Poems
inThe bridge built in between us
Did not burn down in the fire
And even long after,
I kept cinders under my pillow as mementos.
Time passed
The ash stained my sheets.
Time passed
I returned to the bridge
To see the scorch marks,
Took pity and crossed again.
You were waiting for me
Criss-cross-applesauce on the other side.
“Care for a cup of coffee?”
I did
For the coffee, and for you.
There was no cream and only Splenda, but I pretended not to mind.
You were there, after all.
When I returned home that night
I saw you
Attempting to burn the bridge yourself,
But the wood would not take to the flame.
Your soot soaked body wept upon each flare before they had time to grow.
It is a blessing and a curse.
A repeated cycle of attempted fires.
We are killing the ozone layer, darling.
Let our story be a warning;
Tend to your burning bridges
Till all that’s left is ash.