who laughs when
the suns hits her
face and breathes
good morning
into every waking
moment because
every moment is
w a k i n g -- calls every
d o u b l e - y o l k  e g g
a sweet baby and wants
to move the living room
rug just so she can dance.

breathe a little
with me,
open up that chest
a bit, you have time
but not for this,
i can see you coming
back, a ways out
around the bend
with that pretty smile
I've missed,
an' no one out there
as happy to see you
as me, your arms
are leanin' up
a few weeks
done you real good,
so keep walking
keeping on coming
i've been scared to
have you back under
this roof but you never
did care much for theatrics
come home brooke,
come home.

i would like to
say i have breathed
a little since then but
I have been holding
it, a gust of wind
bubbled inside,
lots of quips
and retaliations
scenarios that
God is letting me
whittle because I can
and i am hoping that
soon a sense of peace
will overtake me because
seeing you rebound, straight
off the backboard, hurt a
little, and all I could do
was replay your sly
dip over your shoulder
a coors pressed into your chin
saying hi like i(t) was nothing
and maybe it was.

i imagine she is
so much more
fair, they all are
always blonde
and delicate,
I have to
tear myself away
from this place
where my body
is just a shadowy
afterthought in
the midst of a
hundred yellow
strands, someday
i will not stomp
through the forest
someday I will
be able to linger
and be the kind
of beautiful

the kind
of
beautiful.

is this the silent ache
they talk about?
that turns into something
much better?
am I growing without
really knowing?
put down your suitcase,
what a weapon it's been

all the things you thought
you had to be, and what
you needed to change,
maybe you didn't have to be wild
but needed a good shake
a good earthquake for that
rebel in you to learn who
you really weren't


all the times you've been stirred from
sleep, well it's okay to dream now,
go ahead and laugh if it loosens up
the dust,
even those that took you far away
fell in line with something greater
a conquest in their direction
doesn't mean you looked the
other way,
lonely barely begins
to describe the storm
but everyone has seen
the smooth stones at
the bottom of the river,
at one point
rough and withstanding,
day to day relenting,
but i've never stopped
to judge a pocked thing,
and it's certainly not
the worst to lose a way or two
or be knocked from a hiding
place,

so it's okay
that you're
all alone,
the road is mighty long
good lord that suitcase, you wield it
like a sword,
it's okay little girl,
we've never had this
in the bag, and if no one's
here to walk you back
then

sometimes you gotta walk yourself home.


sometimes you gotta walk yourself home.

he doesn't read these
anymore but who does?
i've always communicated
the best through silence

drafted out a couple i miss you's
but who's gonna receive them?
keep pushing it out a little farther
to see how long I can make it,
and every day it's a little longer
you gotta make it hurt
while she leaves
and tough draw kid
well, those were the right words
and i'm okay now that i've
really ground it into the dirt
and woke up this morning
pretty much done with
just about everything
said fine, God, you've got me
and I still don't really want to
listen but know better than to
talk back, even daddy
didn't take no ****
so I know he ain't gonna neither

well i drifted pretty far
cause the wind takes light
things easily, so i aim to
be heavy as all the ocean's
water but still as small as
i can be, no i don't want to
be no big thing,
let me fall back into the way
it's supposed to be,
when I was okay with
growin' up the walls
finding the cracks
when i spoke with
roses on my breath
i know she's still there
cause i still call them flowers babies
and the daisies, sweethearts
please grow, i tell them.
please don't die,
i whisper.  yeah,
she's still here.

truth is
i'd prolly
still pull your
coat strings, kiss
you if you showed
up but we both know
you won't,

push off your hat
tell me you don't want
to hear my heartbeat

tell me you don't
want that.