Just one, I say, that’s all tonight,
I’ll just sit here and have a few,
take the edge off, relax a bit,
go home with only a slight buzz,
but then at six, old friends stop by;
we are in Michael’s house,
swallowing shots of beer
stolen from my dad’s fridge,
and out the back window
when we hear a car door
slamming in the driveway,
and weren’t we just something,
puking laughing outdoors,
can’t wait until next time;
and how about Kevin,
lifting a wine bottle
down at the corner store,
playing hot potato
and falling to our knees
when the bottle shattered,
and weren’t we just something,
laughing at the sirens,
we have to try again;
but let’s not forget Chris,
and that cold Winter night,
tossing bottles around
the backyard bonfire,
beer bottles exploded,
singing off our eyebrows,
and weren’t we just something,
blindly crying laughter,
light it all up once more.
It’s time to go, our time is done,
Michael Kevin Chris go on back
to that forever gone again,
until next time, we’ll talk once more,
tilt the tap and pour the spirits.
May 2
May 2, 2026 at 7:18 PM UTC
pontificating old men at the end of the bar
know more than everyone about
the nothing of which they speak;
on the rarities when they deign
to come down from their high stools
they are but mere mortals,
afraid of the dark spaces
where no one can hear them weep
Apr 11
Apr 11, 2026 at 8:00 PM UTC
I dove into the black water
where three moons swam,
splashed down into
the wet grass
of a field
our gang of four
played ball on endless
summer days that ended
when we were too old
for games
but why were we
ever too old for
something that hurt
no one and brought
so much joy?
Because joy ceased being
the metric of our lives,
swapped out for that nebulous
idea of success I now measure
in the amount of empty pints
it takes to swim
with long gone friends
in ancient amniotic fields
Mar 21
Mar 21, 2026 at 7:57 PM UTC
A billion childhood days
beating sneakers on earth
curving perfect pathways
between ginormous trees
I climbed twenty miles high
fingers brushing heavens
tightroping bare branches
Olympic backflipping
faultless ten landings
ten thousand feet below.
Gone now, these woods of mine,
brick and stone in their place,
homes with lonely children
living inside their phones,
children who will not know
the comfort of curling
in a form fitting nook
within giant bushes
that once grew in the place
where their houses waste space
napping without a dream
how could I ever dream
of something more blessed
than the life I was blessed
Mar 21
Mar 21, 2026 at 5:54 PM UTC
mostly I’ll remember the times
we couldn’t remember
sloshy late nights that slipped into
opaque early mornings
cotton mouths at dawn wondering
how we were where we were
you taking up a tale to explain
the uncertainties
through the throb in my skull laughing
at the tale’s absurdities
all the while knowing that it didn’t
matter at all
because no matter what happened
in the dark hours
we were together before and
together after
Mar 10
Mar 10, 2026 at 2:23 PM UTC
unbloodied old men
are doing it again
ordering triangleflags
for youngdead widows
(they are our best widows)
this time it will work
they say with hiddensmirk,
sandcastles will melt
into towers of lovelypeace
where black rivers flow
and gracious oppressed throw
red roses at the feet
of notyetdead young men
(they are our best youngmen)
even if they don’t succeed
oldmen will never cede,
there will always be anotheragain
with different sameoldmen
(they are our best oldmen)
Mar 4
Mar 4, 2026 at 8:53 PM UTC
You will say,
I didn’t think
it would be this way.
How did you think
it would be?
I thought
it would happen
to everyone but me
Feb 7
Feb 7, 2026 at 7:27 PM UTC
last call they call
one more is all
the taps are stopped
the bottles topped
the bar is closed
everyone goes
but let’s hold on
the night’s not gone
we’ll find a place
a warm safe space
to have one more
or maybe four
the days are long
there’s nothing wrong
with taking time
to shed the grime
of working life
and endless strife
we’ll close our eyes
feign we are wise
tough times will end
if we pretend
the world is fine
both yours and mine
so raise your drink
don’t stop to think
the night will fly
someday we’ll die
let’s save sorrow
for tomorrow
Jan 20
Jan 20, 2026 at 1:28 PM UTC
I sip my water
doused in fire
and recall the time
I tried to get sober
by drinking myself
into oblivion
I’m not sure why
this comes to me now
as I watch old men
worship a spectacle
of a flaming sky
and proclaim the scorched
earth will be reborn
as a garden of flowers
yearning toward their sun
Jan 4
Jan 4, 2026 at 2:41 PM UTC
Sunshine of freckles on a full moon face,
he laughs and he runs and laughs as he runs
tumbling stubby legs on leafy carpets
under branches of cloud caressing trees,
round round he orbits these immensities,
stops for a moment to touch a flower,
gapes at the blood from his thorn pricked finger,
giggles and chases a pair of rabbits,
and when rain comes, cuddles beneath the shrubs,
sings songs along with the rumble of clouds.
When sun descends, streaking the sky reds,
he lays on his back, full moon facing sky;
the world is a minute and infinite place
he would think if he were not but a child
whispering good nights to a ladybug.
Dec 3, 2025
Dec 3, 2025 at 10:58 AM UTC