Like well-worn denim
we got so comfortable

then were taken by surprise
when we ripped at the seams.

"There is ice in my veins
and I cannot see,
for I am my own reflection,"
the river sighed
as she explained her sorrow
to the little boy,
after he asked politely.

You smell of
cheap laundry detergent
and my favourite memories.

Careful boy,
don't talk that way
she's hanging on
to the things you say
if you let go
with her, they'll stay
so careful boy,
don't talk that way.

My father was
not a businessman but
a handyman, a blue
collared hope chest to
those he loved, gruff and
sturdy with stony hands and
crystal wit, sharp as the chisels
that sat in the bottom of the rough-
hemmed toolbox he fused to his gait
rarely used but sharpened, always present
a testament to the unrefined repairs
he had constructed himself through, my
father was always fixing never perfecting
he taught me how to do that how to
be imperfect yet functional, a fire
that warms not burns, a home
in winters that drag on past spring
and that I am not, but I know how to be
because he told me, he told me,
he taught me to be
good even quietly, work hard even
though it is hardly even you that
can notice what difference it makes
be strong for the weak because it is you
you are strong for that way he told me
and I know now I always must try to be
a handyman not a businessman,
a blue collared hope chest to
those I love.

Dear good men,

if you observe
bad men
and do nothing,
say nothing,
help nothing,
stop nothing,
change nothing,
inform no one,
educate no one,
or remain
uneducated,
uninformed
yourselves,
you are not
good men.
Good men
must stop
letting bad men
prove good men
do not exist.

We used
to talk
for hours.

All I
needed
to do
was fall
to learn
to fly.

In the flashes of passing streetlights
I carved out sentence after sentence

the endless noise of the slipping road
flickering into the highway I knew
was beneath my feet but I couldn't see

I was a child searching for solace
looking for a new imaginary friend.

I'm not sure I'll ever have a home
in the way I imagined I would

maple trees and softball games
silverware and a chess board
and a leather chair that remembers me

I will always be an unsteady train
on tracks that diverge and separate
where will I work and where will I go
I will forever ask out the window

today the ground is too concrete for roots
only money buys you soil
and that too will **** you
slowly, slowly.

Hope and love
are so often
but the casualties
of satisfaction.

Careful boy,
don't think those things
you let her believe
in diamond rings
you'll never know
the power that brings
so careful boy,
don't think those things.

Together
we watched
the sun

rise deep
into the shallow sky.

Good men
are a myth.
If you are good,
and you believe
you have others
to compare yourself to,
you are not good enough.
Good men must see bad men
and must help them understand
how they can strive to be better men.

Good man,
if you observe
a bad man
and do nothing,
say nothing,
help nothing,
you are also
a bad man.

Hospital flowers
don't live very long

and frosted windows
will miss your reflection

we give up when we know
that we will never win a fight

but today I hope to bring you more
red and yellow flowers to fight for you.

There's a place for you
in the stars, in the sky

there's a home for two
under night

I've a hole for a heart
and I'm falling apart

but Daisy May,
you can stay,
if it's alright.

We let it
get too easy

to slip and fall
into the sun.

I'll write you a song and
I'll sing you to sleep,
but only
if you tell me
the words.

We spent all our free time alone
and so our time together cost us.

And we
spent the day
in the bed with
white sheets,
wasting away
our golden hours,
our youth
and our future.

You're like a helicopter
falling off the face
of the moon:

You had no right
                          
                                to be there

                                            
                                                      in the first place.

The grey in your fire escape window view
encompasses the sky and reflection
the glow you've missed for years
fallen from the sunset

a smouldering reminder of the dull days
you see ahead of you, a charcoal expanse
spread across skyscrapers and rubble
in that grey sunset reflection

oh, how the colours you miss so dearly
long to clearly see you, unobscured.

Some evenings I'll catch myself
looking through all of the grey
messages you gave me at night
and everything goes numb and

I can smell your laundry detergent
and see the way you could not tie
shoe laces and all your sweaters
were always dark colours and oh

how well they fit your neck and
your eyelashes held snowflakes
as if they loved them so and you'd
devour depressed books because

sad made you happy and I made
you happy too you always told me
often enough that I believed you
and we always missed the sunset

and you would drag your fingernails
across my shoulders while grinning
I loved it, you knew it burned my skin
and you would slam cupboard doors

by accident, you never meant to do it.
You would notice afterward and laugh
at yourself because it made you forget
that you hated everything about you

that was something I never forgot but
it never did anyone any **** good
because you slipped away so quietly
and suddenly there wasn't any more

slamming cupboard doors.

It's as if
we find
peace

in each
other's
wars.

I will always be
acceptable and
yet comfortably
disappointing.

Now we wait
in the rain
for the sun
to come again.

I've become one of my stories,
twisting, developing, growing

as I tell myself
over and over

the life I led
became lives

the lies I fed
met reality

sincerity blur
narrative overlap

the story of the end
of the storyteller.

One twisted wreath ring
stainless steel, size 8, scratched
******* on right hand

leather wallet, bi-fold, European-style
my father's, my nineteenth birthday
three train tickets, debit card, folded five

five keys, two keyrings
keychain says Budapest, never been
four keys decades older than me
just one, newly cut

headphones, black
one ear doesn't work
wrapped carefully
never tangled

lip balm, mint

coffee receipt

three quarters
four dimes
a nickel

and the understanding
that I've a hell of a long way to go.

Just out of curiosity,
what was it that
killed the cat?

You don't expect
the best of me

so some days
I can make you
so so happy

and others
you know
I'm trying.

Words
won't
water
flowers.

There was a time
when I wrote poems
about longing and love

but I love how long it's been
since that was okay, since
I didn't have other things
to worry about, to think
about, to dream about.

Lovers and dreamers
write out your hearts
but I am no longer
one of your many.

They do this because they love you,
your parents* I tell you over and over

see I don't know but what else do I say
they just don't have experience in this

wouldn't it be reassuring to believe
someone loves you in any situation I ask

as hospital flowers wilt in your window
we wait for everyone to understand

but we have been waiting forever
and a lot of eternity will soon expire.

There is nothing new
under the sun.
Now, under the moon,
what is not unique?

All the best people
can burn you sometimes
and often the worst
will offer you aloe

but those in-between
are those you should look for
who notice your burns
and know what they're from.

It was with you
that I spent all I had,
and I do not regret it.
I had more time than you, after all.

We fall into just the right places
now it's easy to undo these things
there's nowhere our hands
          don't know where to go
and we're asleep when
          the morning birds sing

our breath knows its way into rhythm
new is quiet and sincere
but still there are sparks
          in the spaces in the dark
and nothing can ever
          reach us here.

It's a wonder
this old road
does not have
my footprints
etched into it.

Before
you fall
asleep,

count the
reasons
you'll wake up

even if
there's only one,
now you have a reason.

The thing is
after a sunset
things get dark.

Always a writer
always running
out of things to say.

Touch your earlobes
let your toes turn to ice
think of ships that sink
and aspirations that
sail into hurricanes.
River down 45th
swim like a taxi
up for air, up for air
flowing between here, there
everywhere, everywhere
fishing for metaphors
catch one, it’s seaweed
cook it up anyway,
you’re starving.
A tower with hands
touching your ears,
losing your feet
in the sea.

"I shall always
be second to the sky,"
the clouds admitted to the sea.
The sea did not think this was so.
"I may reflect the blue when I'm still,
but you hold me like the sky never will."

I can tell
You're almost okay
Though you're a thousand
Miles away.

Once
we
were
able
to
cre-
ate
life
with
only
words.

I will always steal flowers
from your garden of wonders
to take to our cemetery
for I know you love violets

in the mess of daffodils
and green I've seen you
red and yellow see you too
yet we are both searching for blue

among the crystal petal headstones
I run through names I'll forget
leaving white and pink chrysanthemums
everywhere I can still remember

the sun will soon go to bed
and our shadows will finally kiss
we can sleep till purple morning
for you do love violets.

"Tell me
you love me
in your language,"
they said.

I stayed quiet.