Rest now, while the drunk world
juggles hammers. Together,
we will await the softer hues.
Mar 8, 2014
Mar 8, 2014 at 8:06 PM UTC
I gaze across the aisle,
Hoping only for a smile;
Her face, alight,
A comedy, divine;
Bracelets, silver,
Gently collide.
Silk soft,
She coughs,
And then she sighs,
Licks lips un-dry...
Casual curls, dis-
Arrayed perfection--
Was that a glance
In my direction?
She's caught my eying,
Her gaze deep brine,
A plainly painted sign:
Sharks infest these waters,
Swimmers beware.
Nov 28, 2012
Nov 28, 2012 at 11:28 PM UTC
Still Big-Blue circles
His nuclear neighbor, not that any of us
Have ever seen him behind the wheel.
The nausea of anticipation, the insanity
Of predictions.
Scratchy-lead-scribblings, blotted, cramped
Digits.
There's never a weekend to tell you
Or any better way;
it's the polarity that always rends me.
" Such a wide cast net-- surely
You'll never pull it all back together?"
Semantics, either way, on this side
Of the event horizon.
Nov 9, 2012
Nov 9, 2012 at 10:18 PM UTC
This is my way, not any other,
Though roots and stones yet cling to cover,
Though thirsting, thorny vines yet smother
The way I'll pick and shovel
And day by day reduce the rubble;
This way isn't easy, but it's worth the trouble.
Nov 4, 2012
Nov 4, 2012 at 4:31 PM UTC
Raining. Broke. Cold.
Browsing Craigslist jobs.
"Experienced Window Washer Needed"?
**** underqualified.
Rain is unsympathetic.
Shouldn't expect different.
Rain has washed a lot of windows.
May 16, 2012
May 16, 2012 at 8:18 PM UTC
We met in February,
snow painted red-bricks looming,
flaring nostrils crisply inhaling;
we scampered across the boulevard
doused in the wake of passing tires.
We kissed on a Wednesday,
economically sharing a cab,
considerately a chaste peck,
stirring up a faint blush
while you clutched my hand.
I fell in love one morning
wrapped in a paradox of your limbs;
I extricated myself miserably,
condemned to hard labor
from nine to five.
You called me today,
the unrecognized number
churning cement in my stomach,
an answer to the the seven digit prayer
I left this morning on your pillow.
May 15, 2012
May 15, 2012 at 2:51 AM UTC
A soft breeze through the thistle field
the beckoning hand of fall
the cows chew their cud:
regurgitate down, up
and down again
tails twitching half-heartedly at circling flies.
I tell the cows I miss you
but they remain casually noncommittal.
They have seen this breeze before
and a cow is wise enough to know
that some things happen
again and again
and some things
will never be the same.
Mar 9, 2011
Mar 9, 2011 at 12:44 PM UTC