a dark and sticky net
is catching all my words

i see some flying in the night
but they are too absurd

so i wait and wait and wait
until a worthy phrase

forms in that nowhere place
and emerges from the haze

My grandpa
             Words he gave
                            To me once upon a full moon
“Son” he said
            “When you go into this life”
“Remember, that love is a language “
             “So find, my son, find someone”
                     “Who speaks your language “
      “So you don’t have to translate your soul”
                                   Hmmm.

I am not a vessel for pain,
My body is not a graveyard,
To dig through,
To unearth,
To search for your losses,
If you come to me now,
Do not ask me for your past,
I have forgotten it,
Ask me for tomorrow,
Or do not come to me at all.