Leaning in a dimly lit doorway
he raises the bottle to his lips
Gulping down the last of that cheap wine
he contemplates the world
and decides that all have been born
into an intensity of need
It’s edge so sharp
that to escape from it
is to feel a sweet relief
He has found that the bottle
can dull the blade
and this is why it
has become his friend
It keeps him company
in those dark places
where he hides
from the lathe

Valiant are those souls
who are willing to brave
the treacherous waters
of traumatic pasts
They sail with a wind of conviction tempered with caution
Worthy of an ancient mariner
it is an adventurous,
perilous voyage
yet full of hope that one day
their stormy seas will set them free

Though bad times
can crawl like a tortoise
and good times
race like a hare
Indifference will always
run last in a race
when there’s no motive
or reason to care

There has been no worse an indicator of marital bliss than
an abundance of money
and yet no greater a predictor of
marital discord than the lack of it

My heart for those
who so love a rose
For they wither along side
it’s mortal repose
But, may they not fret
it’s sad wilted face
There will be another
to take it’s place

Why do we have
these crosses to bear?
Do our woes not fit us
like the clothes
that we wear?
We often ask God
"Could it be
I can’t see?”
and then the epiphany
It might just be me

Should I be still
forever hungry
in the land
of good and plenty?
Should I fill my belly
yet starve my soul
and leave this yearning
to be whole
Solely to the question:
"Is there nothing more?"