when you see so much -
anger, hatred,
despair, greed,
selfishness, neglect,
loss,
pain, hunger,
the ugliness that is in this world -
and you know you're too small to fix everything.
you have to choose-
to ask what gets your attention today,
what wrongs get righted,
what pains get eased -
what torment you can live with because the choice you said "yes" to means you had to say "no" to another one.
and then, you choose to take a moment - just one - for yourself,
because you're empty,
hollow,
a shell of a person going through the motions,
dead inside,
and you feel guilty, because there are still so many in need.
Always the choice.
Always the pain that comes with it.

it feels broken,
like a piece inside isn't doing what it's supposed to,
and if it's shaken,
i can hear the rattle of the broken thing.
i want to fix it,
so it never rattles again,
so it never shakes, so i never have to think about it,
or worry,
but i can't,
because even though it feels that way,
it's not broken,
it's simply finding another way,
and the change takes some time to get used to.

the river was glass this morning,
a serene reflection of a city full of
hopes and dreams,
of people moving about our small lives,
trying each day to scratch and claw at bedrock,
to make a living out of nothing.
under the surface of that glass,
a teeming current pulls,
the driving force behind the facade -
why we must continue.
why i must press onward.

I have lived my life a caged beast,
passion and fire burning within the deep secret places
I don't talk about,
my potential knows no limits,
but for those set upon me by this world.
What happens when the beast is set free?
Will it emerge a phoenix, resplendent in glorious rebirth,
capable of greatness and beauty?
Will it be what I have always feared - a monster that seeks to destroy,
uncontrollable, fearsome?
the only way to know is to let loose the control,
unlock the cage,
unleash what has been kept for so long -
and face the beast inside,
no matter what it may bring.
I am ready.

i love the way a man's kiss
is rough to the touch,
but delicate after only a moment.
his touch, firm and longing,
holding on as long as he can,
a strange desperation in that moment of want,
where it's difficult to discern want from need.
to feel his bristly lip brush against mine,
his hot tongue in my mouth,
melting together in a moment of bliss.

i do not know you,
but in a fleeting glimpse
i caught your secret smile,
the one you might save for a lover,
to share over the top of a cup of coffee
in the after-glow of your coupling.

in that quiet moment,
your eyes sparkled,
and all around you faded,
the colors of the world outshone by that glow,
whose secret lies behind the half-smile.

"Mona Lisa, men have named you" comes to mind,
for your secret and hers are intertwined in the mystery of a moment,
a  glimpse,
a rare peek into your heart.

i often wonder about the blanks,
the spaces between letters and words,
the gap in the middle of the "o"
that holds nothing.
i wonder what an entire page of blanks is really like,
if it speaks more than ink,
and what it might say.

me choosing you.
you choosing me.
choosing us.
every time.

I drink too much,
think too much,
sigh too much,
cry too much,
be too much,
flee too much,
need too much,
bleed too much.

I love too much,
touch too much,
hide too much,
try too much,
care too much,
share too much,
buy too much,
and die too much.

And it never feels like I do any of it enough.

kiss the earth with your feet,
let yourself be lighter than the air,
with never a mark made upon the soil -
not restricted by the bonds of the physical,
being luminous amidst the shadowed sphere,
no weight upon my brow,
no yoke upon my back,
upright,
i shall not be bowed -
that was a different me.

old music from my childhood
plays through the speakers
as two sets of hands reach
for branches on the tree.
hanging ornaments again,
it's been too long.
this time is different -
and in so many ways,
it feels like at last i have come home again.

they call it Heaven
because you cannot hear hearts break.

there's nothing like
being the friend
you always wished for.

i was made an angel,
i don't remember why,
perhaps it was to show love,
perhaps to learn it,
maybe to understand it,
maybe to understate it,
and maybe i chose this,
and maybe it chose me,
if only i could remember,
if only i could go back,
would i make the same choice?
would i choose the same path?

you can fill it with thoughts of another,
or perhaps love,
or any little thing you can imagine -
but when that little tiny place -
the one you go to when you're hurt
where no one can reach you until and unless you let them -
when that place is empty,
and the emptiness is so vast the little place expands
until you believe it will take over you completely
and all you'll be is an empty shell, going through the motions,
that is when you must realize the emptiness isn't really there -
it's filled with fear and doubt, jealousy and resentment.
that's why it feels so empty -
there's nothing good there.

i remember it clearly,
the saying written under the image of a stoic face,
'nothing is as strong as gentleness-
nothing is as gentle as pure strength.'
words that stick with me today,
that forged me into who i am -
a reminder that the choice is always mine,
and that wisdom lies in knowing
how and when to use my strength.

i saw a bear in the woods -
strong, powerful,
majestic, really.
and i longed to feel the confidence,
the security,
the sureness that he must feel -
he is simply, "bear."

then i looked closer,
and i saw he looked unsure,
doubtful,
skittish and frightened.

i realized the bear and i had so much more in common
than it appeared.

i saw an ad in the paper,
and i wanted to answer it.

wanted:
someone to look at me
and at a glance,
take my worries away and let me know i'm loved.

but i didn't,
and now i am left to wonder if i missed out,
if they did,
if we both did,
or if i am better for not having looked down that path.
and i will never know the answer.

sometimes, i wonder if we're all angels,
and we fell from Grace,
our time here is so that we can re-learn
how to get back what we've lost.
each time we die,
we come back to learn a new lesson,
in the hopes we finally get it right.

the eyes that stare back are mine,
but the body is something foreign.
is that me?
how?
i don't know what to do with this body,
how to make it move,
or do the things a body is supposed to do.
it moves differently than mine -
is this what 'swagger' is?
it's just as uncomfortable, this body,
as my old one,
and i don't know how to make it work.
i'm learning,
and it's going to be a little awkward for a while,
but please, bear with me,
because i'm capable of more, now,
than i've ever been before,
and i am making the world a better place.

you said i wouldn't
i agreed.

you said i shouldn't
and i began to question why.

you said i couldn't
and then i went out and showed you
that you were wrong all the time -
because i did.

when at last i shall sleep,
and take my leave of this life,
this strange existence of pains and torments,
and brief periods of rest between them,
i shall look back upon it all,
and wonder at the brilliant mosaic
formed from the choices i made,
the things i did,
the people i loved,
and the difference i have made for them,
and what they have done for me,
and i will find the happiness i seek.

i used to do it all the time,
as a child, i could not stop,
but had to move at a constant break-neck pace.
i would race my brother,
even though i knew he would win.
but i would run anyway.
somewhere, i gave up,
when i couldn't win,
was no longer the fastest,
and it became clear that i was built for other things.
now, i run to reclaim what i lost
so many years ago.
i run to stay in shape,
to avoid the fate of my father,
to feel the joy again, as i did when small,
of running for the sake of it.

there is no word
to sum up all that you were -
there is only the music
you loved so much,
that will stay on as a reminder
to the rest of us
that life should be cherished,
always,
and lived with the fullness
of the music that played in your heart.

"I know I haven't made much time for you," he said. "But that will change."
My father's words fell like thunder on my young ears,
the opportunity I had long awaited,
at last arrived.
I got three years with him where we grew to be friends,
understanding one another in an unspoken way.
I thought it meant that I was exactly like him
and tried to mold myself in that vision.
But I was wrong,
for I am much more than he could ever be,
I understand the world differently,
I take the things I learned from him and build upon them, creating something he cannot comprehend.
I do not recognize his limits,
but constantly push them.
And yet, I am no better - just a different man,
with a different passion and fire burning in my heart,
my own definition of the masculine,
breaking free from the traditional.
A new man.

my lover's touch -
a jolt of electricity through me each time,
even when it's simply holding my hand
or a quick caress of my cheek -
a magical element
that entices me
and hold me as willing captive,
drawing me closer,
at once aware of the both of us,
our wants and hungers,
the secret needs that live just out of range of telling,
but we know, anyway.

now is faith
now is patience
now is understanding
now is mercy
now is kindness
now is love

they cannot be practiced in the past
nor in the future.

they can only be here.  they can only be now.

her kiss was smooth,
a tender touch,
soft and achingly sweet,
and in her lips she showed me who she was,
all her hopes and dreams,
her fears, too,
as her very being was opened to me
in that lingering moment we first touched lips.

his was precisely the opposite.

i see behind your eyes,
the vast wonder with which you see the world,
and the pain you mask
because you just don't want to deal with it anymore,
and it runs too deep.
i used to think i could take it away,
carry the weight,
fix it for you,
and heal the wounds of a past i was never there for -
but that is not my task.
mine is only to be there now -
to help you grow,
to catch you if you stumble,
to dry an occasional tear,
and set you on your path again.

the first was when i heard you,
across the street,
down a ways,
in a place you likely would not expect me.
i doubt you knew i was there.

the second was the other day,
i was sitting in a coffee shop
when you walked by.
i think you saw me then,
and crossed the street.

like there wasn't history,
perfect strangers
never having known one another.
i was on edge for only a moment or two,
and then it was gone.

why are we so afraid to say 'hello'?
to look up from the paths we walk, and face each other,
a kind smile and word on our lips,
putting ourselves out there for a minute
to greet the world and invite one another to
simply share.


hello!!!

sun shines today,
but if offers me no warmth,
winter's last hurrah in this,
the desolate green country between north and south,
between winter and spring,
when a forecast means little
and the prognostications of a rodent prove asinine.

but there is joy to be found,
when a crowd will roar for their heroes,
and the hopes of a city once again move
to the shoulders of the boys of summer.

they said "alone is bad."
by myself i find peace.

a long walk home,
a chance to think about a lot of things
i normally can't,
the opportunity to have a million conversations
in my head,
knowing they will never actually happen -
the only way to quiet the voices there,
as each step brings me closer
to the goal,
closer to being home.

i see the warrior,
head high and chin proud,
jaw firmly set against the oncoming storm,
arms at the ready,
your weapons within reach,
ready to strike without warning,
for this is what you know -
only to fight
for the chance to own yourself,
to be free from the oppression that
strangles from every direction
and steals the air from your lungs.

it is just one of the many different yous that are,
one face among many,
beautiful and fierce,
hard and softly loving,
that i have come to know.

and i wonder when the warrior's heart and passion will give sway to the intellect,
when the war is done, if you will be someone newer and better,
and what place there is for me in that time.