You enter my nirvana,
allow your presence
To exist in a space
not meant for you.
I observe your eyes
as you silently inspect.
So many moments
without you
crafted into squares
arranged on the walls.
Some life still lies
In boxes as I choose
which parts of myself
To unpack.
You scan and
I stand ready
To take in
Your stare.
Take in this
new version
of me.
I wobble
But I shine.
Slowly I will
amile again,
though the
path will wind.
Your feet leave
little imprint
as your judgment
descends.
Dec 14, 2025
Dec 14, 2025 at 10:01 AM UTC
My silence is interrupted by
the constant hum of your baritone.
It is white noise to me now;
a subtle clamor that comforts
my lonely ears, a sad reminder
of how far away love gets.
Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 10:44 PM UTC
You move through the hallway
tile by tile; step by cautious step
as you explore every
sound the scooter makes;
every moment new and
wonderful.
You tiptoe, dip your toes down
and lightly dust the floor,
skim it like the first time in
the shallow pool of the bath.
Then you step, push,
slide down the hall
leaving care in your wake
like discarded cheerios and
chewed up apple bits.
You stop, smile at
this new secret
the world whispered
as I lift you up into my arms.
Aug 8, 2013
Aug 8, 2013 at 9:37 PM UTC
She teaches her body to ache for him
move for him and dress for him
reject the familiar banter and comfort
in knowing he is close.
She banishes familiar kisses
to muster the mystery
that moistens her;
she loves him but she has
each molecule committed to memory.
This is love, yes
but she must back pedal a bit,
clear the air to feel the ping in her inner pit
when he comes near-
just like it was, just like it used to be
before they occupied each others’ hearts.
When he was just a body at the bar.
When he was just a dark haired conquest.
When she was just a hungry girl.
Feed me, she says.
Feed me.
Dec 31, 2012
Dec 31, 2012 at 11:21 AM UTC
She denies each year that creeps
into her fragile bones as
careless creases inch around her eyes
and we shelter her,
carry her and care for her;
calm her when she weeps,
stroke her hair as she sleeps and
breathe shallow as we hope
she makes it
through another year,
month, week--
stop.
She never wanted the
fetus now flushed
into the void of all
unwanted things;
rejected from a life
it could not choose.
It would have been
just another crutch
she never used.
I wonder if she shrugged
as she lost you,
tiny one?
Shrugged as you held on tight...
You existed then were gone
like a hiccup,
like a dream, so real-
until eyes re-enter light.
She drowns herself in
percocet and loose joints
and she'll forget you
too soon;
stamp you down
into the mud of memories
squished into the back of the room.
Dec 31, 2012
Dec 31, 2012 at 11:19 AM UTC
Baltimore is the way we left it-
buzzing, reaching its arms out
like branches of a small tree.
Our tree was rooted in soft mud;
did not take much to topple down.
We chopped at the bone until the
core was cut.
No blood was shed, no blood
but so many tears.
Dec 31, 2012
Dec 31, 2012 at 10:52 AM UTC
Experience is as satisfying as a double whiskey sour
as a tired director tours middle america on foot:
a drifter doused in the aroma of greasy roadside diners,
sullying his brown suede boots in gritty mud and mica.
He thinks he is real american- as he scavenges
inspiration from a photo of a lone tree,
an overweight waitress,
a broken down motorcycle...
A small depression in the ***** pavement
is the most famous footprint most towns have seen;
they come and go as quickly as passing cars;
as quickly as fame and infamy.
He thumbs his way from
state to state, picked up in nowhere Ohio by
a passing Van filled with a burgeoning indie band.
They discuss irony, old films and a mutual
dislike of disco as the van storms past town after town.
The band tours the country looking for fame
as he tears from town to town attempting to forget it.
Dec 31, 2012
Dec 31, 2012 at 10:50 AM UTC
deep in the sweaty
jungle of my brain
as I sleep on silk down
you smiled at me, and
I loved you as I have not
loved any man in
many years; felt
that pang that pained me
in high school as I fell in love
again and
again and
again.
I followed you
through scores of doors
and crowded rooms as
you led me away.
Everything was familiar-
the light yellow wall paper,
scuffed marble floors,
dark hair, deep blue eyes
and wonderful soft lips-
so familiar but still,
a stranger;
a quiet indulgence
that leaves me energized,
confused,
elated at the memory
of panicked butterflies
in a long rusted cage.
I feel it all rush out of me
alone in the quiet of the dark
alone but seeping, silently
clawing the sheets.
Dec 31, 2012
Dec 31, 2012 at 10:34 AM UTC
7 months, 210 days
30 weeks until you arrive
in my arms- new to the world;
new to me, part of me
as no one else has been
or will be.
I cannot feel you inside me, tiny one-
though I know you are
barely the size of my thumb.
Each moment you become
more of yourself
as I am, as we all are-
when you are born you will open your eyes
for that first glance, first breath,
first moment in the world
and you will remember it,
etch it deep in your treasure chest of firsts;
first kiss first car first job,
cherish it like I cherish each day I carry you.
I'll live here, breathe here for the last 7 months
210 days, 30 weeks until you become my gravity
and push me up
up up until I reach the tippy top
and greet the light that must certainly
be waiting.
Dec 31, 2012
Dec 31, 2012 at 10:26 AM UTC
Darkness covers the mine
and every color falls to the
bullet of black. Fingers,
numb and cold
continue to claw along
jagged edges of
granite and mica
toward the faintest
dream of light.
Teeth struggle to grind
meals of bitter coal
broken into tiny parts.
There is solace in
those few moments
when eyes may shut
and lush green landscapes
invade the murky quiet.
They will not imagine
death in a place
darker than the grave
as bodies fight fading
into a cleft of
Earth's damp pit.
They emerge,
covered in soot
and eyes tear as
light penetrates every cell,
as magnificent as the first time
they ever noticed the sun,
then a glorious gust of wind,
like God was blowing a kiss.
Jul 13, 2010
Jul 13, 2010 at 10:15 AM UTC