Northern light eyes
born in a northern town-
south of the river, dense
in flood creeping higher,
hourly by the night.
Another thousand horses charge down
canyon stream, to much applause
and to many a scream.

Rock-a-Bye-baby, in the tree top
When the wind blows, the cradle will rock
They left you hanging there,
Safe, they thought.
The sun-seasoned breeze rocked you
Too-and-fro, too-and-fro.

And who could say that you were any less than innocent?
Twenty fruits in six sturdy trees,
If any one of them falls
Does it make
A sound?

It ripples whole oceans,
Storms blown all over America by the Big Bad Wolf,
We thought his breath
Could do little more than rustle the leaves.

Little did we know he would blow
Not-yet-ripe fruits to the ground.
When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall
Down will come baby, cradle and all.

When home feels like
a hotel and
forcing water down
like its wine in a glass,
warmed by a MDF fireside-
you know your real bed
is a world away.

Cars that laugh
wait at the lights,
as they become
just another set of traffic,
set into the night-time tarmac.

I was sitting on a park bench in December
Whence we met
Just watching my breath steam
In wisps and curls about my head
I sat there in silence for a time
Attempting to discover who this being was
I recognized her not
Though she was mine own age
Eventually, I knew her gaze
And I looked into her eyes
Just to see her intention
How her fate would affect mine
I recognized her now and spoke
But my voice filled with fear
And my heart filled with ice
But as time went on,
My resolve grew strong
And my head cleared of its eternal strife.
I bellowed aloud
Just so she would hear.
My voice deepened with anger
And I proclaimed,
“It’s not my time yet,
I must remain.
I have not known love,
Life’s great joy.
This is the reason I live,
I am but a lonely boy.
And I have found another
Whom I hold dear.
She widens my grin,
From ear to ear.
I would like my chance,
To make her happy.
To feel life’s greatest joy,
To be a daddy.
So give me some time,
And come back for me then,
I will greet you
Like a dear old friend.”
And so she rose,
What a beautiful sight,
All surrounded by gray and white.
I stood entranced
By beauty unmatched,
As she whirled about
And looked at me last.
She spoke not a word,
Let no sound free.
But the look in her eyes
Was one of understanding.
And slowly she left,
Absorbed entirely
By some great shadow
Nearby me.
On that gray-wintered day,
While I sat in the park,
A young girl as death
And I talked.
Though she spoke not a word,
She showed me my path.
I know what I want in life,
What I can have.
And so before she comes again,
If I do everything right,
I can live a just
And fulfilling life.
Death may come,
And death may go.
But never a footprint
Has she left in the gray-wintered snow.

O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,
The ship has weathered every rack, the prize we sought is won,
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills,
For you bouquets and ribboned wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding,
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head!
It is some dream that on the deck,
You’ve fallen cold and dead.

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
The ship is anchored safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;
Exult O shores, and ring O bells!
But I, with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

And he didn't text.
He didn't call.
Didn't write 'Happy Birthday!'
On my Facebook wall.

So when I blow out my candles,
There's one wish I must do.
Not to be yours,
But to get over you.

Mistletoe hanging on the door hinge
A mess of tacky holiday sweaters
Caroling in the streets of snowy wonderlands
and houses flashing red blue and orange.

Wishlists to Santa sent in the mail
Gingerbread houses are built
Families tobogganing down the hills
Leaving behind a sleek icy trail.  

Holiday shopping is nearing its craze
Christmas trees cluttered with presents
Little girls and boys staying up late
waiting for Santa 'til they fall asleep in a daze.

The scent of ham is filling the halls
Loved ones gather 'round
While children open their presents
and compare their rockets and dolls.

she has a heavy personality-
the kind that weighs    
                              down
          and anchors
everything around it.
and man,
               oh, man
how i need that.