Don't sketch me
the outline
of a broken heart.
That would be
like wearing jeans
to a funeral.
Instead,
paint me
a granite boulder
fractured
by the roots
of a cottonwood tree
that grew atop it.
Drench the rock
in golden
leaves
that the tree cried,
but leave a couple
on the nearly
naked
branches.

She asked,
"How've you been?"
He replied,
"I've been getting older."

If you want to know
what is happening
to the world,
don't just watch
the news every night;
watch what happens
to yourself
after watching
the news
every night.

In the courtroom
there are incoherent murmurs
whispers
"I wonder if it will change"
siblings
strangers to each other
bound by blindness
and gorgeous imperfections;
each an abstract reflection
of another.
Guilty.
Not guilty.
Human.
Human.

I remember a night

half smoked spliff
dipped in red wine
napping on the windowsill
I don't remember
when I first heard
I'd rather go blind
and when I turned off the lights
a handful of deep breaths
passed
before my eyes adjusted
to see a newly naked
old tree
posing outside my window
it painted my bedroom walls
with the shadows
of its anatomy

(what a blonde)

I saw your face
in the street lamp behind it
and I'm starting to fall
less in love with you
and more in love
with the shadows
you cast.

Somewhere
Along this rusty railing
sits a fairy who smokes cigarettes
and prays for all of the busy people
that walk by
with their eyes to the sidewalk,
who have given up on writing
their own songs.
She sees children in expensive suits,
asking stupid questions like,
"What is the thread count on this piece?"
She prays and laughs at herself,
but her days of crying are over.
People are like corks
flying off of champagne bottles.

This poem is for:
Bluejays that love the blues.
Tigers, not liars.
Beggars, not leapards.
Dogs that walk without leashes
and their human friends
trying to get rid of theirs.
Well rested trees in April,
and all birds....
even penguins.
This poem is for
people who don't take life too seriously.
It is especially for
the ones that
do.

Worms eat the dirt in
front of them
and leave their ****
behind them.
It is a ******,
yet noble existence.
And when the sun comes up
the robin will pull
yet another juicy one
out of the soil.
Until then,
leave me behind, love.
Eat your dirt, love.