how strange for a man to be so fully imbibed with hate
all the way to the unleashing of indiscriminate slaughter

Sometimes
Life feels like
Carrying a piano
While walking on
A tightrope

How can I put my mind into words
How do I show my soul lives in you

We can build a nest, like two birds do;
You know how much I care for you.

My dreams won’t come true without you,
I believe your love will make my life new.

I see you walking in my neighbor’s yard,
But you don’t glance toward my windows!

All the hard
times prepared me
for this.
The hopeless
times, black sun
sadness.
The long seasons of
madness.
Starving, like a
winter tomcat.

The hospital stays.
Jails and psych wards.
The fist fights under
bridges.
Midnight swims, drunk in
the Iowa River,
not drowned, only out
of spite.
All of this, and
much more got
me ready for this.

I’m sitting up in bed.
It’s 5:00 AM.
My three cats chase
each other, like
lovers in spring.
I’ve been sober
for almost two years.
I even quit smoking
cigarettes.
I’m writing regularly,
and publishing much
of it.
It’s mostly well received
worldwide.
I’m sipping a hot cup
of coffee.
It’s from Sumatra and has
notes of herbs and earth.

I look at the pictures of
Van Gogh and
Hemingway above my
antique maple desk,
as I listen to Mozart.
A writer needs four walls.
I have so much more,
children
wisdom
cats
and gratitude, the most
important thing I
found.