Does existence end at the tip of our fingers,
in the whorls where identities hide?
Aug 1, 2016
Aug 1, 2016 at 8:00 PM UTC
I noticed that
the poet that you loved
put a book together.
I wanted and still want it
to have and read
and to breathe in that new book smell.
To dream of us reading it aloud together
...to dream of us doing anything together again
Two days ago you drove past -
I worried that we are left
with no other tense
Jan 22, 2016
Jan 22, 2016 at 10:14 PM UTC
Software won't scrap the user,
and trash won't toss the consumer.
When first made amenable,
then loved 'til resentable,
it's pitiful to be the toomer.
Oct 18, 2015
Oct 18, 2015 at 11:12 PM UTC
I
The more water I drink,
the less acidic I find myself to be
over time.
The grinding away at the back of my throat slowly abates
my voice grates otherwise, worn and weary,
bleary-eyed.
II
The more air I breathe,
the less oxygen there is for those
around me,
unless the cycle ousts the poisons flowing from my mouth,
my neighbours suffer for my presence with baited breath.
III
The more time spent thinking,
the deeper I am sinking,
until the two things I need most overwhelm and undermine me
d r o w n i n g . . .
IV
The concentration of a consciousness
smears across the gradient
toward absolute dilution
Apr 26, 2015
Apr 26, 2015 at 9:01 AM UTC
Infatuation:
Broken hearts fixating on
each other's fractures
Apr 22, 2015
Apr 22, 2015 at 2:07 AM UTC
A deficiency of iron,
but not one of irony.
Losing track of both time,
...and the watch that you gave me.
Dec 29, 2014
Dec 29, 2014 at 10:22 AM UTC
A restaurant's closing at the corner of Front Street and Central
. . . I've never been,
but I've glimpsed through the windows decor that was sure ornamental.
(Word on the street's that the eats were alright - the plates were too large - but the waitstaff were nice! Patrons, served tiny portions, were alarmed at the price - 'til they drank the last drop of red wine)
The place had a name before this iteration
They called it The Tempest before renovations.
I had been there
- I'd been pleased by the service,
been famished, then satisfied,
and surprised by dessert -
I'd been all kinds of things.
I had been cheesecake and you were crême brulé
and for a moment we shared a plate.
It might have been just the right size,
but I can't quite remember.
Were the waitstaff pleasant? - I desperately hope that I was...
The company was one of a kind.
For whatever reason, The Tempest closed,
and the place that has replaced it has closed,
& who knows what will be on the corner of Front Street and Central next?
all I know is that
all kinds of things
stop being
a piece of cake
Dec 17, 2014
Dec 17, 2014 at 12:11 PM UTC
I'd rather not hear my own talk of hallowness
echo back at, around, and inside me,
but worse is to witness it hurting you -
'It'? Not the talk, but the topic.
And 'worse'?
This dejection can strip my self-worth
- but I'm used to the lack of attention.
So yes, when my mind feels ejected from my body,
when I need to sleep or hide some other way
from what's inside me,
I vacate myself in ways that may desert you
for a while.
I'll just ask that you be patient.
I'm sorry and I'm not;
you deserve a whole,
and I've got to
not be a hole
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 9:45 PM UTC
Maybe many moments
of mania have made me
a candidate
for keeping
things I say
to myself.
Nov 17, 2014
Nov 17, 2014 at 11:42 AM UTC
[I am asked if I'd like to go for a walk,]
Speaking freely & feeling speechless
aren't really distinguishable.
- One languishes with language
full of angst (or even anguish) -
[ while, sandwich in hand, I sit on the floor of the kitchen, ]
Liberally flaming the fires of self-blame
creates pain inextinguishable.
- Cough up money often
to soften up your coffin -
[ The toaster-oven's timer ticks. ]
'til the illness is cured, I'll endure symptoms, sure;
This sick still feels relinquish-able.
- I'd be remiss to admit
that I'd sooner just quit -
[ Let me sit for a while, then we'll go ]
Nov 3, 2014
Nov 3, 2014 at 3:04 PM UTC