It's like having your hands bound
While someone stabs your heart
Except you did the binding
People say it's brave
But it doesn't feel like it
Cowardly
is more like it
Peel back your skin
To see your broken bleeding
Throbbing
still beating heart
The embarrassment caused
is like ******* yourself
but
similar to that warmth you
experience
When you share yourself with
your love
it is more than worth it

Clockwise against the blue light
Silhouette against a 70 mile speed limit
"I let the music take over my soul, body, and mind."
It looks like an ant with wings
Hitchiking it's final ride
Counter Clockwise against the blue light
It takes off and lands again
The wheel shakes as my unbalanced tires reach 75
I turn the volume **** two notches up
Clockwise against the blue light
"The stress burns my brain,
like acid raindrops."

You are special
All I ask is that you do your best
I am proud of you
You are special

If everyone else jumped off of a cliff would you?
You are better than that
You don't know what love is


Choose something you love
Never work a day in your life
Work hard
Respect everyone

Don't make the same mistakes as me
You are the future
You still have the rest of your life to figure it out
You always have a room upstairs
I wish I had known what I know now
My job is killing me
It's not for everyone
If I only had more time

Your mother and I are getting a divorce
Can you set up my twitter account?
Hey buddy I want you to meet Dinah
I just don't understand what goes through your head


Stop being so...
Compassionate
Sensative
Cautious
Depressed
Honest
Diverse
P­assionate
Caring
Imaginative
...no...
ENTITLED.

It dropped upon all of us like
the cold dough of a drop biscuit
The baking is up to you

build a fire, soup on the stove,
sipping the steam off of a mug
of coffee,
hot shower
The shovel waits in quiet reserve near
the front door

Winter is not supposed to be here
But someone forgot to tell her
I pull out the cookie sheet
The cold dough
Transformed
Into the golden brown
Moments of my day

Doc
I wish I could be half the man you are
The first day I met you
You suffered a stroke.
Drove yourself to the hospital
and still felt bad for breaking our appointment


Doc
You taught me so much
in such short time
You showed me the acorn
That is inside of us all
You taught me how to care for it
And how to help others as well

Doc
You taught me about being
kind and selfless
The we and not the me
You taught me about
Stewardship
Crazyhorse
And other ways of seeing.
About the kids that need a chance
Not to mention a rest
I learned about when you pulled a live grenade
from a soldier's chest

Doc
All I can say is thank you
for sharing your spirit with me

I was sitting on a park bench
Two days ago
After putting in some overtime
When a pair of kids walked by
"Life is so dope"
Said one to the other
It was said with sincerity
Not a hint of irony
It was beautiful
I was hit with a moment of
Satori

Life is so dope.

Sewn together out of old
flannel memories and work shirts of the past
a network of  veins
plumping generations of
angry blood
We carry traces of mean,
scared people
Terrible things
not fondly remembered
at reunions
And yet are present in the tapestry

But

There are many
kind
compassionate
beautiful souls as well

They are all on your tapestry
Know it
and display it well

A panic attack has a way of creeping up on you
At the start of one, you always think to yourself
"No this can't be happening"
Much like the feeling you get before you
Throw Up
The heat comes on so strong and forceful
Your internal fire, dead set on burning you
from the core out
You hadn't noticed because your knees just buckled
and you went numb
The tremors
you feel them in your fingers
To your shoulders
To your tounge
Hyperventilating
The extra oxygen
Feeds the flames

Once,
With the help from a Brittle Lake
I was able to prevent this state

Seven bucks to rent a kayak
I sliced into the lake
I paddled and paddled and paddled
My arms were introduced to a new kind of fire
A blue cleansing flame
Take a break and drift
Listen
Breath
Lament
Paddle
Feel the warmth of the sun on your face
Paddling again, now it's the breeze and spray
A smile creeped upon my face
At Lake Brittle I was able to keep the panic at bay

I had a three hour layover so I ordered a bartender's handshake
She smiled at me and said "welcome home"
I smiled at her mistake and
told her I was only a visitor
She placed two glasses down and poured the fernet and ginger
The strong solvant dissolved the feeling of being alone
She poured another at half price
For the next three hours
I sipped the heart out of a perfect San Francisco night

To me
more than just a vessel to the afterlife
but it might just be

I build my pyramid on the carpet
4x3
One by three by five by seven
So on and so forth

Above all this pyramid has the power
to change my life
Monetarily
Immortality
or
most importantly
for myself
right
here
(The Heart)

Imagine a castle in the middle of a city
It sticks out to say the least
A sentinel of the city
The Kingdom of Fairmount
Steve Buscemi says it is
a prison of:
Silence
Cats
Ghosts
Tourists
Filmmakers
Gangsters
I crane my neck and take one last look
before heading to the Trestle Inn
for a drink and dancers.

The greatest cure for depression
I have ever witnessed
Is a tiny little
cat named
Lil Bub

The chilly air has settled in
Fall has clocked in and everyone
knows it.
We make the appropriate
changes and continue

Thank you Beckett.
Thank you Richard Lange.
I will fail better, next time.

The setting was a back country road
The script was minimal
Descriptions mostly
It was us two
Acting mostly with our eyes and smiles
Actors don't know how to act with their eyes
Anymore
The natural light of the sun
Illuminated you in the most majestic
of ways
The whole day was magic hour
And few get to act with their muse

The country music plays at a low tinny volume
I never much cared for it
But thinking back now I enjoyed it then
From the back seat of a love's family car
Stopping at small town after town
Country meals and light on conversation
Our favorite was finding
everyday treasures of times long past.
How appropriate then as I scour my mind doing the same
thing

At one time I was the oldest and you the youngest
I long for those lost days, days of innocence
I am still the oldest but now I am waiting on you
Giving your body over to a bad real estate deal
The tattoos on your arms cannot conceal the tacky
Tract Housing or
The New Developments
I know it's hard
I know you will fail
More than once
Many contracts have expired but the offer
Is still on the table
The more you put in
The less of you is left
I know it is hard
and I am here

They are everywhere
Came to the party uninvited
and stayed well past "?"
I caught one, my last night
in Florida
It didn't want to let go
An ornament on my finger
I said
"Nice to meet you."

Leaning back in my chair to give the crowd a scan
Outside the bar window up pulls a van
He came in with guns drawn, hands in the air!
Wallets and money liberated told not to stare
Gone now, reach into my sock for a 20 to pay for another dram

It's hard to crawl out of a bar
     When everyone keeps
    Stomping on your hands

In a second story room
a gas fire goes out
as a refrigerator compressor kicks on
even the middle of nowhere is noisy
The panel board walls relax as the room cools
like an asthmatic that can finally breath again
Snow and sleet pelt the
windows and deck
I write this with greasy hair
and a band t-shirt
Thank you for today
sometimes a poem
pays more than a
day of work anyway

Every night I die
And
Every morning I am born again
But after my shower
I am reanimated

Everybody gets to be a winner
The greatest lie they ever sold to my generation
No ****
Who likes to lose?
But the biggest lie is that handing trophies out to kids
Makes them entitled
Everyone wants to win, the right way.
Competition is in the soul...
You can't take that from me
Sorry to burst your bubble
but competition is our soul
It's our
inalienable right
Whether we get a trophy to mark our season of playing
Or for our esteem it does not make me who I am.
In fact me and my generation don't compete for ******* pieces of Tin or Plastic
For us it's a different plane
Next time please do not point at a trophy
And sum up my(our) whole existence
You already had your shot.

The Peanuts Christmas Music
is already playing on the radio
It's impossible to grab a loaf of bread
or a gallon of milk with out hearing
So many memories
it makes me so sad to hear
The sound of the piano
a part of me hears it, dies inside
thinking of those times that are gone
but were always kind of sad in the first place

But then why does a part of me
secretly love this feeling
Why does it feel good to be so
utterly sad?
Similar in effect to the child watching a
scary film through strategically placed fingers
they do not want to be scared but deep down
they secretly love to be afraid
Why do we do this to ourselves?
And why are most not honest about it?
Why are we broken?
Or maybe we are not

I never liked the Peanuts anyway

I am stuck in the darkness
A world so bad it has to be real
My dreams never cease to surprise me
in thier vividness
I wake up to my relief
Only to be ****** back into terror
Long shadowy arms extend from my ceiling
And hold me down
I can't move
I try to shout for help...
The shadow covers my mouth
...I live alone anyway
The fear creeps through me
as the electricity of this
shadowy intruder
keeps me still
Panic
And just as fast as it began
the shadow creeps back to the corners
it grew from
and I can move again.

It's three in the morning.
But I am not going back to sleep
I open a book and read instead.

A twitch and a instant
she is awake
light peeks into the room
through a cracked window
She wipes at the tight skin
around the corner of her cheek
from where her drool dried
as she takes in this
Bleach Bypass World
There is a red infected
burn mark above her upper lip
must have tucked her hand
to her face with the lighter
still in it.
These things get harder to explain
Love it. Hate it.
Hate...that she loves it

He has more invested
Second nature, this style
of life
It was a hook up
A **** buddy
A mistress
One more for old times sake
A marriage
The monkey tattooed on his
left arm used to lead to laughs
Ironic
Literally feeding the monkey
The jokes are gone
But the monkey is
hungrier than ever.

He sees her across the room
She is crying and touching her lip
He hates her
She loves him
He loves her
She hates him
He hates himself
He picks up the lighter
from the floor next to the
**** smelling couch she is sitting on

A tiny army
armed with tiny knives
slowly cut away at me
They cut away my skin
leaving behind wrinkles
they cut away memories
and tastebuds,
hair, color, and sensations
Every day steady chip, chipping
away on me.
The bravest move I make
is to get up every morning
The hot water of the shower
hitting my spine is the jolt
I need, to keep the army away
Steady now, hold together,
here they come again.

I would see him in the mornings
He
Like me liked to get to work early
gently puffing away on his cigarette
The Man in the building who smokes
I thought he was a little scary
at first
seemed grumpy and aloof
gray and wrinkled
lines forming around his mouth
like bowing natives around a fire
The Man in the building who smokes
was actually kind of funny
when I (you?) got to know him
Standing outside
rain - sleet - snow
more dependable than the mail
or our couriers
He didn't take anyone's guff
and could tell you a million jokes
if you had a bad day
He even figured out where the buildings property stopped
so he could continue being
The Man in the building who smokes
I took some days off
and then it got busy
days turning into weeks
I asked my co worker if he has seen
The Man in the building who smokes.

Today is the first day of Spring
and it is snowing
Like the first day of rehab
and you are fixing
The difference is
it is not in your
nature.

I used to be able to forgot who I was
The easiest way was to stare at my hand
I was young
Nine or ten was the last time
After a while I would look away from my hand
and I would not know where I was or who I was
I would be fearful and magnetized
And question where I was,
Who I was.
I remember asking
"Is this real?"
"Whose eyes are these?"
Yes...eyes,
It was through rapid blinking that would bring me back
to life as I know it
I never knew what I was experiencing;
A seizure
A mystical experience
A temporary return
Whatever it was
I cannot go back
No matter how hard I try.

Everyone's favortie thing
In the mirror
Drunk
Sober
Cracked grins and halfway smiles
It's how we walk
or
lean against that wall
Photos
Job Interviews
Time with friends
or family dinners
it's how we hold our drink
or
Drive our car
Clutch that cigarette with fingertips
or
two knuckles down
We all love to pose

The goofy middle aged men
are funny as they
flirt with baristas

Emotions and negative feelings
people's poisonous barbs
attacks and regret
Shame and anger
become bottled up
into a prescription bottle
or better yet
one of those old
medicine cabinets that you drop your razors
into the slot it the back
more and more the rusty razors pile
up into the pit of unseen darkness

One day soon it will be
time to renovate and you will have to
deal with those razors in the wall

Day 1
Laying on my stoop
Wings fully spanned
Gray and Brown flecked fur
So still
Do bats bask?
In the morning it is gone
Carried off I assume
Nature has it's way

Day 2
It is back
The bat
In the same spot on my stoop
Wings pulled in it's breathing so fast
It's French Bulldog face sits up to take me in
I don't want it to suffer
Up it springs
Flapping it's wings hovering inches from my face
Eye contact before it flys away

Day 3
He doesn't visit everyone
You must respect the bat
Changes will be made

Few things feel better than
being able to get people who
are regarded by others as shy or introverted
to open up to you

Those others are missing out
on beautiful conversation

On He Climbs!
Back up my spartan kitchen wall
a spot on a blank canvas
making his little way
to the tombstone of a landline
Oh Little Stink-Bug!
everyone hates you
I used to
too
Now I hardly notice you
crawling up my wall
not bothering anyone
keeping me company in fact
Poor Little Stink-Bug!
I saw you fall
It looked like a suicide
Made me quite sad
On He Climbs!
and I am glad to see you back

I used to be a mystic
Or at least what I thought was one
Effortless it was as a child to be completely
Transformed
Transported
Transfixed
It was more than pretend
I was these people
I went to these places
As the dust settled and the years have gone bye,
It has gotten harder to find these places again.
To be these people
It's only a feeling now
Here and there
When I stare at the lines
in my hands
I only get glimpses
Like the aftertaste of a single malt
lingering like a memory
Only a non mystic would use that metaphor
But I feel like I was a mystic longer than most

The water recedes again
Nonchalantly walking back to it's home
The smell remains in Old Town
The sewage scent hitchhikes the breeze
To make it's way up the street named for kings
The water will return
and I cannot afford to live here

Scratch out a little something
a honed blade
a sharpened pencil
paint thinner creates a subdued hue
hands ache
and fingers bleed
What once was nothing,
exists
Now, you are lighter
a surface scratched
You
have left pieces of yourself
exposed

A sculpture
A canvas
Raw Nerves
A poem

Running
Fast considering the darkeness
What am I running from?
Not sure
And yet here I am
Up hill now...
I can see better
Moonlight creeps in through some breaks in the surrounding trees
A Demon Dog of the night jumps
out at me, moonlight reflecting off it's teeth
Gimlet colored eyes make my stomach drop
No.....No......No.......!
I wake up a minute before my alarm

She was my Drugstore Cowgirl
It's tough this time of year
She smelled like Christmas Trees
and pallet fires
rooftops were not safe
from our company
Car rides
Sips of beer
And medusa's stare
The Violent Femmes carried
through the air
I can still feel her hugging
on the sleeve of my grandfather's
old Army jacket
I tried too hard and not enough
She got bored

Has it been so long?
Since the days Crack Music and Gold Digger played
on the radio
The best of time with two
of the best I know

Arguments of Art
Night drives and cab fares
Late Registration was our soundtrack
Creeping by the exorcist stairs

Some days something can hit me just right
and I remember those nights
Clove Cigarettes
Tom Collins
A case of beer
and I am brought back to senior year
Drive Slow

I have a feeling
We will all be hacked
In the near future
It will be like the
Burn Book scene in
Mean Girls
But of epic proportion

I am afraid
Not just of getting old
Not just of dying
Not just of being alone
I am afraid of dying,
old and alone.
But worst of all
with nothing to show for
it...

Poetry is a start.

I will get there
he said
staring
at the blank wall in front of him
the shadow of a lonely nail sticking out like a sun-dial
when he does
it will be
very
very
slowly

Do not blink your eyes
Sitting up, scratching your head
I just lost an hour

Those moments
They just hit you
Catch in your throat
Most often Sunday nights
But they can happen at any time
The most maudlin melancholy
Thoughts concentrated into
My chest
The sadness is uncontrollable
Everything is upsetting
I feel like a pressure release valve
For the world
Every emotion seems to have
a corresponding ****** fluid
The tears are welling up but have not
left my eyes
And just as soon as the feelings have washed
over me,
they are
gone.
The steam has dissipated
and I go about my evening

The heat of the mornings are
slowly being replaced by autumn's approaching coolness
It looks like another summer for the books
It is harder to make memories now

Those forever days
Hours spent at the pool
Surviving off of Goldfish and cookie sleeves
While hair went blonde and skin went brown
The paradoxical AC freezing the skin off of your bones
But you can't retreat to your blanket without preparing yourself
for dinner

Those endless hours spent alone or with company
Doing everything and nothing
A place where Kokapeli's pizza still exists
Or experiencing that fender ****** as a witness
The girl gets out to check the damage
She is wearing only a bikini
I felt like I was in an Updike story
Only in the summer