oh brother
i wait for love like
a ship at sea.
and a hellstorm
brews like a
witches potion.
i sip quickly
it is more than
enough to
take.

theres a
crater in the
moon i see
tonight. a
firm reminder
that i am
only good
if im giving.

a man tells
me there are no
trees here, but i
see them all
the time. we must
be in two
different places.

great writers make
names of their hometowns.
i am no great writer.

no great writer
could make something
of this nothing.

i hope to one day
find love so strong
that i see the streets
as pavement. and not
the spaces around
my shoes.

id love to tell you
all about the mountains,
but the truth is
i dont care.
not yet anyway.
a mountain is just
something else
i cant enjoy on my own.

leave a knife
in your thigh and
try to write about
anything else.

until real love
hits me like a hook
to the nose
ill live in hopes quicksand.
sinking with a smile.

god must be broken
if were made in his image.
i crack the mirror.

let us reconcile
in the moment,
for a moment.
the tiniest
of tensions are so
malleable to the parts of
me that know im
not worthy.

i fixate on a star
to the point that
if i stare long enough
i dont see the others
and it will dance
through a clear sky
like it could breath.

no one is ready for
my sweater. i work to
give but have yet to
pull sword from stone.
either i am not worthy
or i am not ready, but
defeat always feels
the same.

i see a real miracle
over and over.
things have never felt
so futile.
a star will crash
into the earth
and i will never
hold a sword.