Seek a safe place
a house with long hallways that push
and bend and fold in many
shapes and defy direction
or some other alliterative pair
push hard on the wall
like it's not even there
Words are a labor of love
so she hoards them in her hope chest
scribbled, printed, on sheaths white and gold
edges frayed and faded ink, old
I see you in every small town bar
wearing blue collared shirts and a sunset belt
Sundays are weird in my brain
don't talk to me until I'm out of the rain
So I'm crawling down this highway
hearing her echo pushing minor fours
hush, push down, lift
reach out beyond continental drift
Let the gator snake around your hand
and pass me some quarters to tip the band
Jan 1, 2016
Jan 1, 2016 at 6:37 PM UTC
There's a white eagle waiting
on the creased parchment of personal
history, sitting patient yet clearly
discontent, singing someone's praises
but you're never quite sure exactly who
holding heads higher than you could ever
and cocking two, by two, by two
I almost dropped this string into the sea
the one that connects your fears to me
the pull to fall kept me so tight
but I leaned all the way back
bringing eyes to summer light
So where were these rocks that had you
so compelled, that you called me crying
out in shrieks, giving them names, a
car crash of consonants like a fence
to keep something in or out, we
weren't ever sure
How could there be so many questions
when there's only one way to enter
and only one way to leave
Sep 20, 2015
Sep 20, 2015 at 12:49 AM UTC
I saw the drought in time lapse
like a blooming flower in reverse
the expansive lakes contracting
and the rivers slowing to a crawl
in their vast meanders
I saw mass movements
glacial scale sped up to meet me
I saw new species emerge and go extinct
in the time it took for our plane to go down
I always wondered about your intentions
the way your left pinky twitched in the rain
how your beard would grow and shrink and grow with months
under high clouds how your boots would crack
toes shaking off caked mud and elements
like snow on your eyelashes
like fairytale clouds
I'm almost there, can't you see
weren't you waiting
I've been waiting an epoch
while you flew fifteen miles
I've been climbing Jacob's ladder
while you've been ascending to the top bunk
we've come a long long way
I've come a long way alone
Aug 10, 2015
Aug 10, 2015 at 12:31 AM UTC
It's a hush hush spin cycle
Words at high volumes
Dew roses do talk
Olfactory persuasion
All things end someday
and some days are closer than others
Measure distance in hours
and time in long inches
How late will the light stay
and how dark until blindness
Don't set expectations
Their whispers will find you
Why hunt hurt hardly
with soft stretchy paper
that covers your eyelids
and howls through the night
Aug 10, 2015
Aug 10, 2015 at 12:28 AM UTC
On a soft reflection
on a moment sunset pink
and teeming with memory
I consider your smile
(the cliché not withstanding)
and I find that my fascination
is indeed in your gait
(a metric lifetime from expectation)
and your echoing distance laugh
(falling closer to thought)
or your room cross gaze
floating on the professional
where stairwell jaunts
yield unexpected adventures
in smoky silver rooms
on a bridge of glittering lights
or in a quiet heated room
with beard whisker scratches
and a familiar squeezing hand
Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 4:57 PM UTC
I wasn't sure if I should ask
(when you tempted and taunted)
I wasn't sure if I should say
I wasn't sure
You alone hold keys and locks
and encryption codes
it's just you holding on so tight
little inverted pyramids in palms
and fronds in shadows on milky knees
It seems absent and unsure
who you might have been and when
and why you might have been there
it seems like errant leaves on the wind
late to pick up stepdaughters
with wild hurricane hairdos
or kneaded loaves of bread dough
braided, coarse, and bright
We're dancing on live electric
wire sparks shine in cold night
with high heels tapping on the porch
on eaves mosquitos hug the light
and here you're clapping to vibrato
vocal cords strained, you invite
a twirling dancer to your circle
with swirling, howling, coursing might.
With swirling, howling, coursing might.
Mar 4, 2015
Mar 4, 2015 at 1:10 AM UTC
Something about glass
and a pinprick strain
and a rumbling whirr
and a sharp stab that's mute
when wheels are lying (untrue)
and the closest thing to blue
lives in the white sea
Oh shed your sticky pie
mouth corners, the bearded hints
of yesterdaydreams
of pancakes in the oven
starting a new life
Still love for all the loves
sing all the sings and
sleep all the sleeps
shake off the ice water
slow eyes with puppy yawns
and subtle squeaks
Unintentionally smeared
like oil pastel sunsets
and frozen elephant ears
Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 5:23 PM UTC
Radiator
like hot breath
reminding you of something
wrong, stinging teeth, sweat
and sore muscles
built up with lactic acid, a changing
and slightly more favorable wind
Central air, central heat
some unsung heroes and sparks
of something new, are you sure
there aren't spikes in my
drink, there's sharp pains
in my throat
How was it supposed
to feel, can't find the right
sounds and the room stinks
of hot leather stretched
over decaying bones
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 6:04 PM UTC
Just blank, and lines
that stretch beyond thousandths
of a decimal degree, traverses
Norway to Lithuania in a day
maybe two, with favorable winds
it's hard to be sure
6/8 masked with the bass drum
on the twos and fours, it just feels like
something extraneous and unnecessary
and other couplets of two words
that mean the same thing
Anger like snakes, like tentacles
the chaos of a cephalopod
the cunning of the reptile
cold-blooded, living in the deeps
the depths of storm clouds
and waving from an airplane
Forever goodbye, river
and all the secrets you've swept upstream
just to be churned at the confluence
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 6:02 PM UTC
Ghosts in shadows
shadow ghosts
and I whisper stories through a straw
tangled nonsense
and you keep on turning
in multiples of nine
and I count your steps,
the number of rotations
What and how do hands
move so fast and are
you sure you didn't mean
to use a pattern because
the seams seem uneven
moving up these curvy roads
Why can nothing touch
the reflex under your right arm
that pushes you to numb
and tingling, but one man
can make one phone call
and millions are at war
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 6:01 PM UTC