The evergreen edges of the newly cut
box hedge border look greener now
with its cleaner lines and stronger bark-spines;
the train's in an hour so pack up and go,
leave Christmas where it is,
leave Christmas at home.

Un-sent Christmas lists sit in the flue still,
they never got delivered and never got through,
houses stand with their lights on up the hill,
they blink and sparkle and blaze and gaze at the night
with competition, cheap goodwill.

people say they lose people
& things
& that they also lose themselves
and other people say there is nothing to lose
because there was nothing to have
in the first place

some people say their new job
is making them lose
their soul
some people lose their keys
in-between couch cushions

but I think the hurt lays
between
the forgetting
and the remembering

forgetting how to feel the way you felt
once
upon
a
time

& then remembering
parts;
bits and pieces of moments
unable to stitch it back up
in its most authentic form

loss
is just the realization
of change
with fear inside of it

but then again,
some people really do lose their keys
in-between couch cushions.

Is there some kind of rule for
how many flashbacks
of you saying home
and forgetting the your?

Is there someone to answer
the question of how long
it takes to stop seeing
your clothes on the floor?

Is there any book written
on stages of heartbreak
and how to get over
not being enough?

Is there some sort of method
that makes us immune
for the things that destroy us
when we fall in love?

It didn't make sense
It felt Fingers
Chain link fence

So the moon dim
Gibbus tide riddle

Keep your wheel in the hairpin
Bite  a hook
You'll be my friend

Go ahead
Spike the ocean
A drop of salt blood
The wolf of horizon runs
Spilling fangs of
red dwarf sun

Can you water:
Crash against the rock
Until pieces of you break off
Pristinely lying on my skin

Think air until you hear
Grandeur breath of leaves
Mountain or dog
Sing songs of love

Goodbye
White cheek
Spun in moonlight
Foot to the path
Song on the tounge
Free til I'm dog
Whiskey til I'm drunk
Hold my breath
Count to ten
Blue eyes / begin again

I am a poet with no words
I am a shepherd with no herd
I am a forest with no trees
I am a piano with no keys
I am a watchman with no eyes
and  I am a deceiver with no lies
 
I am a swordsman with no sword
I am a religion with no lord
I am a musician with no band
I am an emperor with no land
I am a library with no book
and  I am a fisher with no hook
 
It does not seem I am needed anywhere
I am everything I never was afterall

warmth of the sun
a romance's start
firing a gun
the strangers part
 
blue skies and leaves
teardrops and lust
running like thieves
a poor man's trust
 
summer again
as spring descends
it's not the end
my sleepy friend

You are me,
can't you see
I am you,
who will you be

It's how it all goes
and how it all flows
you are Poe
and I'm that crow

We are homeless
and sometimes boneless
I was born deaf
A lot of times your name is Jeff

We were everyone on earth
We are everyone at birth

One big chain
But time is differently arranged

Do you remember being me?
I wonder how many I will grow up to be?