These pages creak with old, forgotten memories.
Memories of times past
Vague, wispy in recognition
some so mentally far away
I must reach, stretch way out
past my comfort zone
just to tap them with my fingertips
But - - -

What is my comfort zone?
Definitely not this house.
Where failure and guilt follow
like dutiful yet annoying dogs
No, I'm definitely not comfortable here.
Not my school, either.
School, where morons manage
better grades than I;
where sinking in depression
is taboo, more than sleeping around
comfort does not lie there, either.
Not even in my own self any longer
does comfort rest
my mind swirls
with doubt, cloudy thoughts, recklessness
all crammed much too tight
for comfort to be at home there.

So... if I can't figure out my comfort zone...
will I be without rest forever?

Someone lit the couch on fire
And lined heads on the windowsill

God protects his wifi with a password
But gives out free coffee and cookies
To the people who listen to him

Parking lot stoop sitting
Dressed in black, looking back
Anyone can run me over

You are god and I'm a table
Weighed down by the heavy red book
Tuning my guitar and summoning strangers
Playing off-key in a room swimming with caffeine
The aisles are too narrow to let the
Broken pass through

It's all part of the plan

Church kids fight to say hello
Push push shove hi
Push push hi

All of their songs sound the same

It's all part of the plan

Two boys
and girls
unclothed each other
simply at a picnic
flush with wine
alongside
sun-flecked trees.

The girls,
easy as the
forest round,
burned,
delicious,
as the boys
eager and nervous
in unequal measure
partly gave up
concealing
their joys
at forgetting
or remembering
in flickers
their bare bodies.

It went on
over nettles
and half-hours
and clambered
trees and
photos taken
almost formally
(on film,
of course).

And boyish lust,
at first sinuous,
a darting tongue,
began to
soften against,
for instance,
the sheer,
unthinkable
texture
of the two
girls carved
now backward
over the bough
of a storm-felled elm.

And there
in the embers
of evening
they learned
to thrill originally
at the vast,
gorgeous
and astonishing
irrelevance
of what
might happen next.

When I took my words to
The permission man, he was
Less than enthused. “No, no,”
He said, “these won’t do. They’re
Robotic and archaic - and this one’s
Overused.” “Well pardon me, sir,
But all I have are these. You see,
My pen is a keyboard, and I have
Backspaced all the previous drafts.”
But he just frowned and turned away
And told me to return some other day.

1289

Left in immortal Youth
On that low Plain
That hath nor Retrospection
Nor Again—
Ransomed from years—
Sequestered from Decay
Canceled like Dawn
In comprehensive Day—

Social smoking,
Social what?
I don’t know you,
Don’t you see?

“Can I have a cigarette?”
Can you have my cigarette?
Oblige me as you may,
You are obliged to talk to me now.

Insulated, instigated community
Kept alight by the *** at hand.
As we harm our health
We tarnish our respect.

LOLs and falls are commonplace,
You were my enemy ‘til tonight,
This faithful night,
When I gave you my cigarette.

Clouded distaste
Subtly lost
As we look
For a fickle flame.

“No I don’t have a lighter”
Don’t you know me anymore?
Usurped, ****** dry
Watch me die.

Tonight I may not be so lucent.

Savvy from a day of prerequisite joy
Cranked up like a wind-up toy
Dead in bed sick with grief
Happiness stolen by a ruthless thief
All I can offer is a comforting presence
A warm and friendly essence
To uplift  the dreariness returned in an empty stare
Of half a person steadily fading into thin air
Placing the label doesn't change the facts
Or contain the feelings that seep through vulnerable cracks.
Late at night when sleep is suggested
She stays up through lonely darkness,
while her days are well rested.
Something lurks in every corner of her mind, waiting...
To provoke regrets left amiss, full of condemned hating.
Here I sit helpless, uncertain of what I should do,
In my haste, harsh words slip
"What is wrong with you?!"
Too late, I've riled a beast inside
Unleashing demons that left me terrified
Flames flicker flecks of light in sullen eyes
Burning all hopes in a pit of demise.
She's enraged with destructive intent
Loosing the battle to an ocean of chaos
where no hope is dreamt
In an instant, the fire recedes and her eyes die,
She lies down, back to bed
hoists the blanket over her head
Only three words to reply:
'why even try?'

Suzanne takes you down to her place near the river
You can hear the boats go by
You can spend the night beside her
And you know that she's half crazy
But that's why you want to be there
And she feeds you tea and oranges
That come all the way from China
And just when you mean to tell her
That you have no love to give her
Then she gets you on her wavelength
And she lets the river answer
That you've always been her lover
And you want to travel with her
And you want to travel blind
And you know that she will trust you
For you've touched her perfect body with your mind.
And Jesus was a sailor
When he walked upon the water
And he spent a long time watching
From his lonely wooden tower
And when he knew for certain
Only drowning men could see him
He said "All men will be sailors then
Until the sea shall free them"
But he himself was broken
Long before the sky would open
Forsaken, almost human
He sank beneath your wisdom like a stone
And you want to travel with him
And you want to travel blind
And you think maybe you'll trust him
For he's touched your perfect body with his mind.
Now Suzanne takes your hand
And she leads you to the river
She is wearing rags and feathers
From Salvation Army counters
And the sun pours down like honey
On our lady of the harbour
And she shows you where to look
Among the garbage and the flowers
There are heroes in the seaweed
There are children in the morning
They are leaning out for love
And they will lean that way forever
While Suzanne holds the mirror
And you want to travel with her
And you want to travel blind
And you know that you can trust her
For she's touched your perfect body with her mind.