Have you ever wondered what I was thinking?
When I look at you, my mind spirals.
I see you yawn and wonder,
Does your mind sound like mine?
The voices talking over each other.
Interrupting each other,
Never finishing one thought
Before beginning another.
Eventually, one rises above the rest.
I asked you if you had heard the noise and
You looked at me as if I were broken.
May 10
May 10, 2026 at 7:00 AM UTC
Why must you bend in the wind of indifference?
You were once strong and impenetrable.
A granite boulder that moved deliberately and slowly,
Gashing out your path,
As the glacier of youth receded.
Who made you so cynical?
I ask that, knowing the answer.
Your accusing finger always points through me,
And attaches to my naivety and sullenness.
Did my questions wear you down?
Did my jealousy offend you?
That interminable wall you built,
Which I must scale every day,
Alone with my terminal misery.
Why did you bend?
Mar 22
Mar 22, 2026 at 8:23 AM UTC
I read your obituary this morning.
It said you passed, and something about eternal rest.
I thought we agreed that when you were ready,
You would summon me.
I heard nothing, not a peep or a whisper.
You are the third person this month.
Of all three, you said,
You would summon me.
The other two left without fanfare
They faded, like the morning fog on a warm spring morning.
I expected more from you because
You would surely summon me.
When it’s time for me to leave,
I will have few friends.
I don’t intend to announce my exit.
When the universe summons me.
Mar 8
Mar 8, 2026 at 8:19 AM UTC
You walk a thousand miles in the span of a day,
All the while, the mind in motion, tearing through.
A sense of urgency with endless paths,
The voice never ceases; the noise is deafening.
But never within earshot of your fading love.
For you to hear it would only make you insane.
I would leap if I could. A thousand miles below.
I would pull the trigger if I could. A thousand feet per minute.
It is cowardice I fear that keeps me on earth.
And the earth that keeps me in oblivion.
Feb 3
Feb 3, 2026 at 10:53 AM UTC
A bitter, wistful winter day has petrified me; a slight frown deforms my face.
The steam exhaust from my mouth blinds me as I tread on icy ground.
My gait and thoughts are unsure, as is the terrain.
In the frigid air, the birds echo, but the winds are aloof and overburdened.
A chance meeting of the north and south fronts spoiling for an unwanted wet day.
On the barren path, the hills are like Anglo-Saxon barrows.
Some hiding the bones of imagined kings and hordes of treasure.
The veritable treasure is my imagination, which has not festered through this grief and perpetual agony.
I imagine passing an ancient oak and having a hollow, squeezing my way through its inviting gap and curling up for hibernation.
Never to be found and aroused.
Jan 25
Jan 25, 2026 at 8:53 AM UTC
Closer now to endless nights,
As voices, muffled
Like a seashell to my ear
Telling me to let go, in rhythmic harmony,
I fight for words or a groan; a cringe would do,
A silent and dark world has encapsulated me,
My memories will soon evaporate,
A collection for eighty years,
Nov 20, 2024
Nov 20, 2024 at 10:01 AM UTC
He has no choice but to pound her back,
to get her to let go of my arm as she bites down hard.
She says she hates me because I pulled her hair when she was a child,
I am a vicious man who lacks control over my anger.
I don’t disagree with her memories, but she adds more than I can remember,
In the moment, I can have blind rage and not remember a few minutes before.
She thinks I hate her, but I don’t. How can I convince her otherwise now?
I am no longer Father. Dad. Pops. I am my first name.
I see the wall that I created whenever I try to talk with her,
Not made of wood, but concrete. It’s made of a Roman mixture that will last for thousands of years.
My wife says, “Give it time”, but time doesn’t erode this wall.
Oct 8, 2023
Oct 8, 2023 at 6:41 AM UTC
It starts with an anonymous thought
The voice in my head that screams lies
It sounds like me, but in a higher register
Repeating phrases that will not stop
Competing with the high pitch ringing
I open my mouth to exhale and allow it to escape
And close it quickly, preventing reentry
I stand at a distance and observe the voice
As it is reborn into another monster,
Each time a manifestation of the last
To slay the monster only allows a metamorphosis
The thing grows larger and more powerful with more words
Words like vinegar and baking soda
I know when it will quiet down
But I’m not ready to die
Jun 21, 2022
Jun 21, 2022 at 10:11 AM UTC
He’s taken at the end of spring, alone in
White sheets that are wrinkled and soiled.
Never to smell the bleach and rubbing alcohol
The ambient sounds of the ICU floor, with
Ringing, buzzing, beeping, and ethereal voices.
Eternal peace, they say when he is given last rites
He can hear what they are saying, but it’s still a dream
Wake up and rise like Lazarus
But the voices are farther away, and the light is dim
He doesn’t have the strength to play jacks as the
Voice urges him to come out and play.
Flashes like lightning and muffled tin can, ringing like
The bells at mass before the taking of the Eucharist.
It’s time to wake out of this dream
He has things to finish. To start. To do.
Pinching himself doesn’t work like it used to.
Rolling and screaming. Nothing.
The tin bells turn to cow bells that turn to Jingle Bells
The movie of his life plays faster and faster
Eighty-five years of home movies
The curtain closes as he says,
This must be eternal peace, as the voices say
Fade to black
Jun 18, 2022
Jun 18, 2022 at 7:19 AM UTC
It starts with an anonymous thought
The voice in my head that screams lies
It sounds like me, but in a higher register
Repeating phrases that will not stop
Competing with the high pitch ringing
I open my mouth to exhale and allow it to escape
And close it quickly, preventing reentry
I stand at a distance and observe the voice
As it is reborn into another monster,
Each time a manifestation of the last
To slay the monster only allows a metamorphosis
The thing grows larger and more powerful with more words
Words like vinegar and baking soda
I know when it will quiet down
But I’m not ready to die yet
Feb 11, 2021
Feb 11, 2021 at 7:08 AM UTC