I fancy myself a bit of bourbon
Please do not half read the start
Although both are true
To be clear
I see myself as bourbon
Bourbon is an enigma of magical simplistic complexity
Corn and a handful of other grains
A new charged oak barrel
Time
Same as ATGC (four pieces of the endless puzzle of DNA)
Simple, neat, predictable, and endlessly complex

The mash is mostly one ingredient
Corn for bourbon
Family for me

The barrel
Oak for bourbon
New Hampshire for me
Both the oak and I are inescapably a product of our land
Slowly grown
Shaped by the environment around us

The char
For bourbon it comes down to how hot and how long
Same for me
Too much char and you risk a bitter end product
Too little and you have a forgettable finish

And time
Time is the one you can really control
Even though it seems to be so uncontrollable
You can correct a lot of missteps with time
A little linger in the barrel
Or a little motion while you wait
(Like the paddle boats on the great Mississippi
A gentle rocking to and fro
Echoing the prejazz played on the banks
The rhythmic motion giving birth to something wonderful
But I might as well be talking of woodchucks’ dreams for all my drifting)
A preferred place in the rack house
A little more heat
A place with a breeze
It changes you
It makes you draw more from everything else
With time you make sense of all else
The family into which you where inserted
The land from which you came
The char
Ah yes the char
How hot and for how long
To fully extract the meaning of this takes time
Lots of time
And if you take the time
And you really work to get the most out of all the simple things that really comprise who and what you are
You end with something of infinite complexity
Something that imparts warmth, depth, a hint of sweet, a strength that is apparent, and a finish that lingers leaving you wanting more

So to you (and me) I tip a bit of the ***** brown.

The blue sky in my eye
is dotted with birds that fly.
Like a brand new lie
from which one cannot pry
the truth.
It is like the games of our
youth
so free, so unfettered by logic.
I can only hope to pick the truth
from the popular beliefs.
To stand alone as if of stone
against the ragging winds
of fashionable thought

This is the story of a truly evil man
He does not remember who he is
or the twisted things he did in the past.  
He lives a life unencumbered with regret, or guilt.
Free to move forward in the world.  
A ship suddenly at full sail with no anchor.
Just brightness and possibility
and speed from the lightness of a bleach spotless soul.
Then one day a sickening spark is ignited.  
Like a flash going off
gives a brief glimpse of things that wait in the dark.  
Soon the occasional flash becomes a strobe light.  
All his actions from the past coming flickering back into view.  
Like a madman running at you from across a field.
The strobe always blinking.  
What will he do when the madman gets to him,
becomes him,
reclaims him,
is him
again?

i saw a little grey today
i stopped and held it close
and all the sadness drained away

i saw a little grey today
my caring has brought changes
and now i am a little grey

and there is nothing left to say

There is a line,
                  a string,
                     a stream

That runs through all
                                  of time
                                       and space

From beginning
                       to end
From start
                to finish

It runs through us
                       connects us
                                 tethers us
One to the Other

From beginning
                       to end
From start
                to finish

We will always be joined
                               in all of space
                                          in all of time

You can not lose me
                             or I you

No storm,
            no sunset
                         no distance
can sever our tie

It is and
    It will always be

From beginning
                       to end
From start
                to finish

He saw the white flash as it envelop him
He could feel the weight
So comforting
But soon the light gave audience
to that which hid beyond the light
That which was him
Before
He could see the light melting away
Like snow
Like that snow
From that day
He could still see her
Contorted as she lay on that blanket of white
Her body peach and pink on the white white snow
He remembers covering her with that snow
And then watching patches of it melt away
Peach and pink poking through the white
And he would throw on more of that snow
Over and over
The cycle seemed to go on forever
But eventually that snow ceased to melt
She was too cold
Peach and pink
replaced by
blue and gray
He tried to throw snow
on the mental pictures
that were flooding back
But these sins were
too hot
to stay buried for
too long
Oh god
It had all come back to him
Why hadn’t he stop with her
Why were there more
He saw them all
Each and every one
Like a flip book
Being played again
and again

The light turned red
I stopped and fell into a song
Or the beat
Or the lyrics more likely
I started to make them my own
Just the cadence as a guide
Reminiscing about things
That never happen to me
I allowed myself to float
On that lake of stolen memories

And then
The light turned green
While still shaking off the memories
That clung to me like water
I took my turn and rolled forward
That is when it all exploded
And I learned
That just because it’s your turn
Doesn’t mean you go next
That knowledge came at the cost
Of my left leg
But it is ok
Now I’m all right

and so it goes
like waves
                     one
                             after
                                       another
if you know waves
(and I've known a few)
you know
they start to become a wave
[or what we (or should I say I) call a wave;
who knows what they call themselves;
if in fact, they do
call themselves anything.  
but  I am drifting now.]
hundreds of miles from
shore.

all of that power
all of that motion
all of that water
[which, by the way, is all
different water.  
do you see?  
a wave is not just
one wave
but rather a series of
continuing associations.
do you see?]

it all comes (or goes) toward
a beach it has never seen.
it (they) roll head (crest) long on.
on to meet its (their)
never seen sandy lover
and at the end
there is that final
powerful embrace.
and with the act consummated,
the power is now all of ours
it is free
thrown to a breeze
blowing untamed over the land

When I was young I yearned to be a hero
To feel the adulation of the crowd
To feel the damsel in distress pressed against my chest
Tearfully expressing her wonderlove into my shoulder

But with age came understanding
Understanding that a yearning hero needs a villain
A single minded evil that pursues the hero
Obsessed with his demise at any and all cost

So to wish to be a hero
Is to wish for evil
And for the distress of the damsel
To burden her with the obligation of gratitude

This is the reality of all yearning heroes
All my childhood heroes carry this sin
I unknowingly worshiped at the alter of greed
The greed of a needy soul

With age comes understanding
Understanding that true heroes are so only in retrospect
A true hero is surprised by their deeds
Pulled to the job by forces unseen
left shaking by the deed
yearning only to slip back into obscurity
This is the true hero

the Big Gruff Man
let the fear from his soul
leak through gray stone eyes

how hard the matter
must have been pressed
before he released his grip
on that liquid prize

what a strange sight
seeing water falling,
falling,
                falling,
                                falling
from those grave, stone eyes

he looks at me
as though i hold the key
to unlock the lock
and release the chain
binding him to his pain

look away Big Gruff Man
or i will drown
in your pleading stare

for you are me
or more to the point
what i fear to be

i scream to his deaf ears
"it is not the matter
but the clinging
that brings your pain!"

let it go,
                  let it go,
                                   let it go

the waters will come
the waters will rise
the waters will carry you away

my statement broke her right along the glue lines
when I called my new poem an abortion
we spent the rest of the night in a frenzy
making mosaics from pieces we could salvage

i was afraid that she would never be whole
but the aftermath of our shared work gave birth
to a sunrise that shown so very brightly
she steeled herself to rise and meet the new day

You can always tell a Catholic
by the creases on his dress shoes
They are unnaturally pronounced
compared to the lack of wear of the sole
It is out of balance,
askew

Taken out only for mass
***** colored with laces to match

Me? I left my creases in a younger man’s shoes
The sole worn thin due to friction
from the constant rubbing against the rote

dying is an art and i,
i have become an artist

i am not living my life but
orchestrating my death

i paint with sweeping strokes of self-imposed misery  
upon the white pages of the remaining days

they will be so sad
they will miss me when i go

they will

Goodbye Tooth Fairy
Goodbye Easter Bunny
Goodbye Santa Claus
Goodbye childhood

Hello Boogeyman

Goodbye for now,
I must take my leave
My soul's been spent, I can't allow
More of my heart to grieve

It's time for rest, to bid adieu,
Thanks for all you've done,
For words you've shared, for moments true,
But my eyes grow tired of the sun

My thoughts are foggy, hard to see,
Can't make it all make sense,
Like echoes of a memory,
Of life that once was dense.

As darkness settles, I'll tip my hat,
And say goodbye to all,
May what I leave not fall so flat,
But shine and never pall

Goodbye for now

You are consumed
trapped by the weight
of that which you create
a well crafted fear
sharp as a spear

It spins
around your mind  
trying to unwind
but there isn’t enough room
inside of you
so it
and
you escape.
When you egress
you see the sun
and
it is so
hard
on your eyes.

Will they ever adjust?

Has this place always been?

You realize that your foc(us)
has so long been on

her

that you had almost forgotten to
remember of this world.
during your exile it has continued to spin
Can you catch up again?

I think not.

You are dizzy
from
circles.
you must slumber
now.
you can only hope
she
will
war(m) the bed,
next to you when you awake.
(If that is
truly
what you
wish)

Rest now
for you will need your strength
in the coming fight
against yourself and
your self created foes

Goodnight,
good knight.

he had knowing dreams of where he was going
all along upward he was swiftly growing
the always certain hand of fate was ever sowing
fields of poppies concealing secrets of the knowing

soon he forgot to remember that which he once knew
softly trading certainty for a comforting clue
now he is on his back staring at the blue
with eyes forever closed to that which is true

O’ how will his muddled gaze ever be wrested
from the flickering box on which it’s nested
given comfort as he is artificially breastfed
hate those people and love these things is where he is led

so the cycle continues to turn
until we coach the match how to burn
birthing a new world from the communal urn
ashes to ashes and with so much to learn

quietly he drops a stitch and skips a beat
out of line, missing steps of society's feet
absent fear of plans left incomplete
he renders acceptance obsolete

he stands alone

a broken child hides
in the dark corners
of a very large man

You wake up holdin' tight to a 20-dollar bill
forgetting how you got it takes all your will
You make your way to see the man
And it’s another ****** 25 to a gram
What a way to start the day
But you find a vain and make the sickness go away
you feel the shame and humiliation as you succumb to the numb
and let the fog cover who you have become
To meet that need
Because there is a beast you must feed
You feed it pieces of you
as who you were slips out of view

Because the rain refused to fall
And the load kept me from standing tall
I couldn’t walk that line
Had no way to pay the fine
The music didn’t play the band
And I couldn’t see the beauty in this land
Until I got to share it all
To share it all with you

I needed someone to push me beyond
I needed someone with whom to bond
I needed a partner in crime
I needed someone always in their prime
I needed to lose at hide and seek
I needed to feel the thrill of a fervent peek
As long as I can see me in your eyes, I’ll be home
Home in you

The days no longer seem so dark and long
The air is always filled with song
The mountains aren’t so high
I'm no longer afraid to try
Or conquer that self-made foe
I'm no longer confused by which way to go
Because the right path is always the one we’re on
The one we’re on

I left the house that day with unceremonious brevity

I neglected even a backward glances at its dog eared shingles

It was all I ever knew of shelter
All I ever knew of protection

It was always there for me and I thought little of it
It was always there and always open

I entered it for the first time with but a few hundred breaths upon my lungs

Later I screamed within it for freedom as though it were a millstone about my neck

I grew into that freedom. Venturing farther and farther afield with each and every passing year

Until it no long felt like home and I felt as a stranger there

My memories were viewed as though through the wavy ancient glass that still hung in each window pane

My memory, like the perfectly imperfect glass, distorted the viewing

I never looked back that day.
Not with my eyes.  
But with age comes the desire to make sense of the journey.

So now I look back and I know

It was were I began

​
I think at heart
I am a lighthouse keeper
I love the sea
or rather seeing the sea
But for me
I like to be
in the lighthouse keep

Face to the sea and light at my back
My shadow thrown large over the open water
On the line between Gaia and Poseidon
The dance between earth and sea
It is where I belong
Where I feel at peace

The face of almost all
CPR dummies is modeled from
one person.
A young,
unknown
French girl
This girl
took her own life
She jumped
off a bridge.
She drown
that day.
Now millions
have been saved
from drowning
because of her
She is L'Inconnue ingénue

You will never make a change in time
If all you do is nickel and dime
Gotta step out of your comfort zone
And be ready to live life close to the bone

You can go far from your home
Just throw care to the wind and roam
But making it back from a distance land
My son, that is what makes you a man

she said she
wanted
to share it
with you,
but now
you are on the
                                               outside
looking in.

You cannot share what is just for her.  You
try to
be happy
for she is
                 your world and your soul
you are war(med)
when the sun shines from within her.
“I won’t so
                       if you say no”,
but you can see
that she
speaks the words
from
                                                                ­                                    there.  
She is calling back
over her shoulder
hoping
you are still                                                            ­
                     smiling.
no matter,
she is
already too far away
to see.  You
try to
be happy
for her
be        cause
she is
free
and that is something
you vowed not to take from her.

So,
smile back
across the miles
that you find
                              between
you now.
inside you
just pray
that she will find
her way
             back.
Yes,
             back.

Will the light
of your love
be  
enough  
to lead her
back ?

Will she even face
this
way again?

I drove by the college today
sun hungry students
fall like leaves into the grass
(Both are soft, young, and supple)
knowledge will have to wait
today the sun is all they need to know

None have ever loved except you and me
We live alone atop this mountain
We see those in the valley
All convinced they are on high
But we alone have that view
And when they truly see our love
They are laid bare
Like a child suddenly aware that Santa is not real
What they believed to be true was a lie
Their love will never feel right again
Always feel lacking
Less
Inferior
We have ended so much lesser love
Simply by allowing them to see our love
True love
The love of poets and madmen
The love unreachable
It is unreachable because it is ours
Not theirs
We occupy this perch
together as one

your untouched sheets are crisp and clean like a razor

your vacant pillow floats on the bed before me like an empty lifeboat

the absence of your breath is deafening

you left me Nothing and now it is all i have

i will cling to it
i will nurture it
i will feed it with what is left of me
until it grows strong enough to consume me

then i will be free of the Nothing you left to me

She had been watching me since I got on the train
Building my story in her mind
Steeling her nerve to approach me
With a deep breath she rose from her seat
Pushed herself down the aisle toward me
She dropped herself in the open seat beside me

She asked, “Are you a runaway?”
I said that depends on how you look at it
We are all running from something
But I think I’m headed in the right direction
Semantics I guess,
but I felt I was running toward
not running away
just moving on

Thanks for your concern kind lady
I can see it in your bright brown eyes
That someone ran away from you one day
You are only hoping to correct that error
but I cannot help you with that pain
that is your journey

she headed back to her seat
and left me to my windowpane
I considered her question as the miles rolled by
And with every turn of the wheels,
I get further from

But no one back there is missing me
Back where I was a younger man
There’s just confusion and resolve
To live the life you were handed down

I can’t accept that legacy
So much more on my mind
I’ll take my chances out here
On the rail, with fate, my roll, and time

Just take my chances out here
On the rail, with fate, my roll, and time

i lean into the pen
pushing the words onto the innocent sheet of paper
as if the pressure alone
will somehow be transferred to the reader
the ink does not flow darker
the words do not carry additional meaning
only my hand knows the difference
my hand and the other innocent pages below

the ghost of my words
fading as you go deeper
until they are unintelligible
maybe this is in fact a perfect way to show what I am feeling inside

I press the pen harder into the innocent sheet of white paper
As if the pressure of the pen can somehow mirror the pressure of my emotion

The days they change
but why won't you
It seemed so easy at the start
to love and to be loved
just a child's game
But now my old eyes see
games have winners and losers

We played the game for a while
you should’ve know that my smile
was from surviving all the pain
of shouting at the sky in vain  

you fell like rain
and puddle at my feet
I saw myself in you
reflected back
distorted and ugly
but it was just that
a reflection of me

bare, bud, green, going
winter claims the land
with a skeleton hand of bare trees
writing its stark song upon
the white white snow
in shadows
long, thin, black, and sharp

bud, green, going, bare
the spring sends small green spies
to see if the earth is ready
ready to try again
to shake the sleep of winter
from the hopeful eyes of spring

green, going, bare, bud
summer crowds the world with green
filling in all the spaces
like a child coloring outside the lines
full of life
and bustle
overflowing with the thoughts of eternity

going, bare, bud, green
the leaves are a kaleidoscopic scream of color
the land rages with its dying
showing all what will be missed
the last bright light of beauty before the
long white sleep

like the lion became the house cat
and the wolf became the poodle
*** has been domesticated
it has been made small and controllable
your desires have been selectively bred
down to acceptable sizes
nothing too grand
or over the top
stray too far from the center
and they will
castrate you in the press

She stands right
now
looking at the
same
O' so golden
sunset
that I stand
here
admiring at this
moment
She stands there
wishing
wishing that I
am
wishing that she
is
not O' so
alone
she stands there
not
hearing my silent call of
love
Does she know
me
by my real
name
or am I
just
a sweet might
be
dream that may come
true

So I sat silently singing songs
that moved no air
                           but blew in my mind like a hurricane
that altered no view
                            but maybe my own
that stained no soul
                            but mine and mine alone

a thought I had nurtured
that had grown
polished and pure as a pearl
created by the incessant irritation
due to its unfinished nature

this is the wonder
that pushes my pen
like a mugger in the night
this thought took from me
and left a lacking in its being gone

This space ached to be filled
and thus the story begins
not with the idea
but with the wake and the ripple it left
in its passing through my soul

It was as if nothing had suddenly
been granted life
it was no longer a formless concept
but a beast breathing mist upon my soul
it is mine; me; now us
kind of like not being 20 feet tall
is mine; me; now us

so now sit words before you
set down by a part-time poet
using nothing as his muse
(not any nothing, but the
loud stomping echoes of nothing
sneaking unceremoniously out of my mind)
as each leaves it is replaced
by another mist breathing beast
and so it starts again
with a different colored nothing

and so it goes
like waves
                  one
                           after
                                     another
coming from places unknown
going to die on a beach unseen
it ends with a final powerful embrace

the wave dies on a beach it knew it would love
even though
it had never seen its often touched sand
and when the act of blind(ing) love
is done
the beach sits and waits
for its next ****** lover

Milestones become millstones worn about your neck
when your goal is just an endless trek
now you’re 2,000 miles from anyone that knows your name
and somehow it all still feels so much the same
your rabid effort to lead yourself astray
in hope of getting closer to being further away
the echo of your own footsteps
and all of those deafening regrets
push you onto the next unknown destination
where you hope to find that soul restoration
till you realize that there is only so far you can roam
until you are on your way back home
thousands of miles left broken in your wake
the need to be that perfect imperfect stranger is an ache
but your demons sit upon your shoulder
and every day they grow bolder
because they know why you always run
they know what you have and haven’t done

you ever feel like,
when you are watching,
       silent and still,
the sun give up on the day
just letting itself be dragged down
       below the horizon
just letting it all end
and you think to your silent still self
      i can relate, I can relate
take me down
take me down too
     take me down with you

Thanks for being the heartache
That lead me to the daybreak
Of the rest and best of my life
You were the detour I needed
Without it I couldn't have succeeded
In finding the one
That makes me wish the sun
Would stretch its run
And give me more time
With the one love that is mine

Slouched and snoring on the sofa
Holding an empty bottle
At the end of an empty day
My little arms extended
Almost toppled as he slumped to me
Did my best to guide him to his rest
And that is how he said goodbye
My last picture of him captured for all of time
That is how he said goodbye

She wiped the tears from her eyes
As the echoes of the yelling stopped
Turned and walked away
As she blew out the candle of her heart
I reach out to stop her
But she was already out the door
She whispered “I’ll miss who I thought you were”
Without even looking back one time more
And that is how she said goodbye
The last sound she made was the closing of the door
That is how she said goodbye

She told me the same story
With all the same suspense and surprise
I chose to ignore the signs
Of the clear and long goodbyes
It’s hard to be there for a mother  
That taught you to never need another
And that is how I said goodbye
With the gun of indifference and the bullet of inaction
That is how I said goodbye

In the end there is the end
Fade to black; the standard trope
But I picture more a giving back
Of all things that made up me
Scattered far and wide across the galaxy
To be used again ad infinitum
And that is how I’ll say goodbye
One last repeating encore acted out again
That is how I’ll say goodbye

He was the consummate liar
Over practiced in the art
Through hours of repetition
Told only to himself
Until he too believed

It is a hard days lesson half-learned
quickly if not quietly
in the bold sunshine

drink deep your spirit
it is your only hope
if that is what you call a
one legged man kicking you
when you are down

I say that cold spirit
is a liquid prison
that rules from the inside

but you do what you must
I will only sit and judge
like some half-assed imitation of Saint Peter

Who knows
if I like the show
I may open the gates
of my self made heaven
and let you and your one-legged
friend kick yourselves in

wouldn't that be a sight
for blurry sore eyes to see
(I don't know)
I just sit and judge
left or right I must
place you from me

For I am a half-assed saint
with a one legged man and a stranger
inside my self-made heaven

They are dancing the two step now
(only the one legged man needs to dance twice as fast)
one man two the other four
the odd timed rhythm distracting me
and leaving my lesson half-learned

The higher you fly
The louder you must cry
Before they will hear
All that you hope and fear

When you live in a cage
You must eat your own rage
But that is not my ride
I tend to choke on pride

So spread your new found wings
There are many songs yet to sing
And so much music to write
Don’t be afraid of the height

It is just a child’s carousel
Round and round like the stories to yourself you retell
lean way way out for that big brass ring
And all the love and beauty you think it can bring

You look deep into those bottomless wounded eyes
and you see all the loss that lives there
so overcrowded and well-guarded
But one loss looms large over all
The loss of hope
from all the times she fell in love
and was not caught
each time she said I love you
and heard only silence in return
it is all she hears
all she believes she deserves

It is May 25th, 2022
27 times this year
Children have been gunned down in their schools
27 times
SO FAR
In less than six months
Over 140 dead  
That is heart wrenching  
The thing that makes it
Even more so is that,
in a few days
this poem will be obsolete
and the new number will be 28.

Just the big empty hand of a would-be prophet
Lost in the vast void of his empty pocket
Filled with only fear and shame and blinding rage
His fist clenched inside that so empty cloth cage
Slated to live a life that no one sees fit

He has nothing left to hide from anyone
Living life lower than the protocol son
None think to pick the pocket of a pauper
Who would even find it to be improper
Why save a man who’s crushed by the weight of none

can't you hear the ticking
can't you see the clock
it can't tell what is right or wrong
just tick tick ticking along
you know man made time
now time makes man
without any kind of plan
just tick tick ticking along
time has the upper hand
and a face that doesn't change
it doesn’t know the hour
it doesn’t even know the power
that those two hands hold
just tick tick ticking along
can't blame the clock for making us old
it is the eye that sees the clock
sees it tick tick ticking along
that carves the lines on our souls

She was the one that you’d forget to invite
Not out of dislike but because she lived just out of sight

She was the shadow that infers the sun
Blinked in the only picture that showed her face
You’re not alone if you do not recall her
I’d forgotten that time she sat next to me

The party was nothing to remember
Sept’ that when I said hello,
she simply touched my hand then ran away

I’d forgotten about Georgia
But I guess Georgia never forgot about me

At least that’s what her mother said
When she asked me to speak at the service
To lay poor Georgia down
She told me Georgia mentioned me in her note

She had loved me from afar
One touch of my hand and tears in the dark

my lips are dry
i'm so very parched
my wish for water is all consuming
i drop the bucket into the well
but the well is full of pennies
each a wish, i drown in lieu of action
the water lay trapped
in a copper coffin
laid to rest by too much wishing

i
t
o
  u
   c
    h
  h
e
r
s
  o
    f
      t
        l
          y
         s
       h
     e
       i
         s
      m
     y
       w
          o
             r
                l
                  d
                a
       ­       n
            d
               i
            a
         m
              s
                 o
              v
           e
      r
   y
     h
         u
              n
                 g
                   r
                     y
                  t
               o
                  e
                     x
                        p
                            l
       ­                         o
                                     r
                                        e

You may sit and wonder
what do all these words
come to as a sum
as the writer
I would say
it means all
that is left when it is
done