A lonely winter's wind
Full steady from these vents
I've decided to try the bed
Tonight
Bigger somehow
Too much space
An open field and too much
Left exposed
My fretting back with no touch
To hold it together
So unlike a place left cold
In hasty absence
But rather a letting down
A slowing
A walk in this snow
Unknowingly flushing my veins
With the warmth of effort
But I am slowing
And
My love
It's getting cold
A different home, in winter
Oct 3, 2015
Oct 3, 2015 at 11:22 AM UTC
The leather of your boots and the
Folds in your jeans, they
Unfolded like
Petals of water and
Floods of mercury in my chest.
No, I won't cry over a picture
A collection of
Pixels on a screen.
It was 99 days ago today
She said she'd drive the first part
When we brought you to the train
Ninety-nine days and four states ago
When you and your magazines waited
For them to take you away
Well I never promised that
I wouldn't cry
Jul 8, 2013
Jul 8, 2013 at 1:49 AM UTC
A ghosted idea tugs at my stomach
A drifting ship in a closing fog
A half remembered dream from a restless morning
That rests precariously on the tip of my tongue
And drips
At glacial intervals
Down to the knotted cords at my center
That held the boats at port
Once
Mar 19, 2013
Mar 19, 2013 at 3:22 PM UTC
I watch for you
And keep an eye on
The horizon
I cannot help but
See the sunrise
And it's orange edge light
Hugs my curves like
You would
Warms and burns like
You would
Smoldering then steadying like a match
Igniting memories of
Sleepy passenger seats
In an old black jeep that
Tasted of fish and old stories that
You told me
Of the late night in between in
A skinny dorm bed and the
Delirium of love and fatigue
Folding our eyes closed and our hands together beneath the pillows
And collecting on us like a heavy snow
The scent of old tobacco, skin, gatorade,
And dryer sheet that
Rests on you like
My sleepy hand
Rising and falling with your breathing
And then my florida dawn
After new world night and
A heart full to bursting
Watching big fish gather around lighted docks
And talking of things in
Beach towels on a bridge
Leaning
Looking over
The edge
I watch for you
With my eye on the horizon
And I know you in the
Break of day
I carry your gold dawn and it
Tempers the steel beneath
I watch for you
My love
Until you're home
It's 7:14 am
And I love you
Mar 6, 2013
Mar 6, 2013 at 12:02 AM UTC
You are asleep
To
Tell it true
And truth comes naturally when I
Find you here
But gone and deaf and
Full of forgiveness
(How is it I still fear you)
Though I know it's you
And I
As you've told me through
Years gone by and
Bye
You said
goodbye
In another time
(Three. Three times.)
After leading me past barred doors and into
Open night
Where you gave me keys and showed me locks and gave me
Sight
There were bottles
Wines
(Southern comfort, jimador)
That I drink alone
Anymore
(You are still mine, I know, my heart, my one and only
Though you are gone from me
And have led me through
Jungles steeped with dark
With only your voice
To follow.
I am not
One or the same)
The rain heavy on my window
Reminding me of panes of glass
That keep me dry
Yes, they're there
Like your smoky scent was
Always there
With the dryer sheets and
Locomotive pulse
(I remember
Though I can't forget the
Pieces you left me in
So many times
And always with promises of
Never
Again)
I would that you'd stay and
Sleep here
By me
Like I wrote in
Every letter
Jan 1, 2013
Jan 1, 2013 at 9:51 PM UTC
Hundreds of pieces
Line gallery walls
I put them together in
Fractal patterns
They make pictures under my
Lizard brain lens, refracted in
Shards of color
That contour honeyed visions
I remember, no I
Won't forget
Golden glows of firelight in
Family rooms on soft lined sofas
Or sideline kisses by
Charcoal cooked nighttime
And trampolines that
Soften our fall
Into autumn
Well I was certain that I
Couldn't jump
(Though I asked how high)
But with your arms beneath her
Your baby girl can be your
Little bird.
Dec 8, 2012
Dec 8, 2012 at 3:30 PM UTC
Silver-sided thursday
Late morning, not quite
Afternoon
The steady scent of spring's flowers, dutifully
Blossoming
Obscenely in the cold
The cold wet around my ankles
Dragged up from the ground
Frail next to the bark of
Tuesday's tree
Stark brick building
My mother's morning tea
The shadow of a crucifix
Blocking the sun from my
Chameleon eyes
The time between texts
A deep inhale and a harsh white in knuckles
Replacing the rosy pink of
Moments ago
Yes, but
Well...
Another mile won't make me
Stronger
When I already emptied
My pockets for you...
And how my small change made you smile!
Remembering,
My smile
Opening me up
Like an old wound
The crows are at my throat
Nov 14, 2012
Nov 14, 2012 at 9:31 PM UTC
The hours cut quickly
In shadows across
This space
And my hair keeps coming loose
From behind my ears.
The repeated motion
Of putting everything back into place
And this is my
Meditation..
Your ribboned presence
Stretching itself into each corner
Where it curls to
Rest for a while...
But your jellyfish memory
Though beautiful, floating
Through my submerged world
Stings to touch,
So I love you
From afar
Nov 14, 2012
Nov 14, 2012 at 9:24 PM UTC
Turn your dapple gray diffuse light daydream
Towards the flashlight painted cloudscape I have made for you
And before the drafted owl coos I have collected in bottles and hung from this tree
For you
I have walked through fine winged butterflies and soft twilit moss
Over sun scorched sand and in the relief of white noise water
Which
Like the circle of your arms
Tucks my dark away in the bottom of some drawer
That we may find and laugh over through our old eyes wrinkled with years of delight
Our home is walking through a stream
Steps slowed in the thickness of water
Nov 8, 2012
Nov 8, 2012 at 11:24 PM UTC
I'd walk out across
Even if
There was nothing but water on the other side
Where the lamps break and explode on the surface
And the night birds swoop low, near me.
If you were never there and
The cloud behind your silhouetted frame was complete
Without you
Full in its colored whiteness and
Billowing lines
I would still look and maybe
Smile.
If the wooded planks, missing here or there
Below my padding feet and scraping jeans
Creaked half as much, silent under nothing,
Quiet with no feet behind me
Yours
I would walk forward still
Crisscrossing here or there and meandering
around.
I would
And I wouldn't
Between the glass of the bottle and the asphalt
In the sound of
Their touch
In that moment when the music turns stale
When I know I'll soon
Want for home
I wouldn't.
And in that place
Where soft and quiet
In know and understand
I would, and I would not.
Hereafter, I deny.
Hold me home
Nov 8, 2012
Nov 8, 2012 at 11:14 PM UTC