this simple change of season
brings upon silent surrender
turning over in my head
the way we left these things between us
diverging from the script
we found ourselves out there adrift
on an ocean made of your tears
i’m sinking down below
the first snowfall of the season
brings a newfound fear in me
that the chasms that grow
between us are too far beyond reckoning
i’m up here at the mountaintop
looking upon our world below
but if i’m to be perfectly honest
there’s nowhere i want to go
i wish i knew how to let you go
i wish i got to see what would’ve grown
i was so afraid of what could be
the future without you scares me
but i can’t change what i can’t dream
the turning of the season
brings upon this secret grief
lost in my head and in
the sea of pervasive memory
there’s a stone we left in our driveway
we painted with our names
we could’ve figured out how to make it work
but we let it go anyway
a song out to the universe,
an endless rondo of desire
that the songbirds are all singing
amidst the crackling of fire
there’s a halo round the moon,
a circumlunar rainbow dancing
on the starlight ‘round your head
and in my heart i hear us laughing
i wish i knew how to let you go
i wish i got to see what would’ve grown
i was so afraid of what could be
the future without you scares me
but i can’t change what i can’t dream
this sempiternal season
rolls over onto forever
an endless summer sun
to hold us in permanent fervor
desire, desire,
soon to become fire
i hold you like
i’ve never held anyone before
i live with your ghost now
the sweet smell of you in my senses
memories burned into my mind’s eye
and i’ll go on and pretend this
isn’t bothering me anymore
but god i know it does
so afraid i was back then,
so afraid of your good love
i wish i knew how to let you go
i wish i got to see what would’ve grown
i was so afraid of what could be
the future without you scares me
but i can’t change what i can’t dream
i couldn’t be what you needed me to be
Oct 30, 2025
Oct 30, 2025 at 1:55 AM UTC
another night,
another worry comes,
like i don't know if i'm doing any of this right.
another dream,
of you and me,
how can i spark a life?
if you jump, i'll jump.
stay out til the sunrise
head home to the new wife
the ill-gotten gains
from the beds that you've made
stay home til the sunrise
hold fast to what feels right
you can't have living
without making mistakes
if it's desire
caught out on the line
i am burning for you like nothing else
if it's my fault
then tell me and i'll let go
i'll just have to leave it alone
but if you know, i know
stay out til the sunrise
head home to the new wife
the ill-gotten gains
from the beds that you've made
stay home til the sunrise
hold fast to what feels right
you can't have living
without making mistakes
stay home
don't grow
never know
the truth of it
stay home
lay awake
ground shakes
be done with it
not enough
to make it up
i can’t mend the rift
i can’t fix your heart
no time
to shine light
i can’t fix this
i can’t make it right
stay home til the sunrise
hold fast to what feels right
you can’t have living
without making mistakes
but if the world takes you away
takes you from my arms
what does that leave me now?
Oct 30, 2025
Oct 30, 2025 at 1:46 AM UTC
today you would've been 65
how much you've missed
you liked to joke that your birthday was on the longest day of the year so that you'd have more time to enjoy it and i wish that we'd had more time to enjoy you, too
Jun 21, 2022
Jun 21, 2022 at 5:25 PM UTC
took out the trash this morning
sandals on the red, dusty driveway
the scent of wildfire smoke somewhere in the air
as summer sets a shattering scene
a small raccoon dead at the bottom of the can
as i drop the bag aside and gently tilt the can to let it slide
onto the driveway
what did it know in its life?
what did it think as the cover closed?
what did its mother think when it set off for the last time
later on in my own home
roof over my head and curtains drawn
i think of it again and i wonder
does it all end just like that?
Jun 21, 2022
Jun 21, 2022 at 5:17 PM UTC
la luna
once nothing but a child's dream
staring at the stars
third-hand telescope on the front walk
hoping and praying
that the city lights won't be
too bright to block out the constellations
so it was
a romance with weightlessness
on the Cyclone at Coney Island
to learn to love the feeling
of hearts in throats
and the racing pulse
and the butterflies in the stomach
dream of love
a wife lost young to cancer
and belief brought no clear answers
but still resolution and commitment
with hearts in throats
and the rasping choke
of losing everything he loved
to seek heaven
a boy born to fly learned to be
in command and learned to be
in control as the thrusters push and learned to be
cool under pressure as the world below
gets further and further away
if he stayed up here would that be alright
Feb 2, 2021
Feb 2, 2021 at 2:20 AM UTC
where have i gone?
i wasn't here yesterday
or at least not the same me
i've been exchanging
glances for limerence and
*** for pleasure and
dreams for the hollow
vacuous entombment that is
what we become -
i'd never been that close
to anything before
did i tell you i loved you enough?
Feb 2, 2021
Feb 2, 2021 at 2:12 AM UTC
the door at the edge of the kitchen where he came back because he forgot his glasses after spending the night on the floor of what used to be our room
i know
terse words exchanged from opposite sides of the dinner table as you look flummoxed that i'm the one answering the call and i tell you to get lost
i lost
the laughter of others when the boxes were packed and the keys left behind and those godawful words "now you can move in"
i cried
Feb 2, 2021
Feb 2, 2021 at 2:10 AM UTC
there is a blazing hole in the sky
where the sun decided to see itself out
"hello,
i am still here,
can you hear me?
i am still underneath
the miserable weight
of ten stories of steel and concrete"
you were once
the air i breathed
and now you are
crushing me
did you come to hate me slowly
or all at once
"hello,
i tried to call
but the line died.
come home
i miss you so much
this never happened"
i stepped into
a hole in the deck
where the board
had rotted through
i tried
to pull out my leg
but the wood cut deep
and cut true
i yelled
for help as the blood
flowed into my socks
and into my shoes
i cursed
your name
at the end
i cursed
your name
Jan 31, 2021
Jan 31, 2021 at 2:01 AM UTC
a satellite dish on the roof
of my grandfather's shed
sings to the stars
who will provide the countermelody?
i took you to a place on the beach
that my dad took me as a boy
to share these sweet things with you
it all means something.
there is a waterfall in the woods
in northwest indiana
where once the river ran so dry
you could look down into the riverbed
and see the roots of trees
gasping, begging for the water's return
we stood in the rain the next day
as the wind whipped petals
off the branches of the maple trees
and in the downburst
i fell so deeply love with you
will you sing with me?
there is no use in weeping
over things left unsaid
if they were better off
on the radio waves
bouncing down to the satellite
into the screen inside your head
to replay the crescendo to failure
in the moments before collapse
Jan 31, 2021
Jan 31, 2021 at 1:55 AM UTC
it was
a light so bright
that i missed everything
the flames were too high
the emotions were too strong
the world was ripped asunder
in the blink of an eye
awake
and holding on
to fragments of you
the words were too sharp
the paths we blazed too far apart
the reckoning now absolute
i live with the ghost of you
Jan 31, 2021
Jan 31, 2021 at 1:43 AM UTC