The brilliant blue of the sky today made me think of the color of your eyes in the bright light coming through your car windows, and how she was right next to you driving, blissfully unaware that you were torturing me with pictures of your face.

You say that I
Am a work of art

And I'll believe you
Because you know what?

That picture you drew
At three,
Where you can't tell if that blue blob
Is an elephant,
Your grandma,
Or just a blue blob

*That's art too

Family quarrels are bitter things. They don't go according to any rules. They're not like aches or wounds, they're more like splits in the skin that won't heal because there's not enough material.
F. Scott Fitzgerald

---

I keep you in a book,
Tucked away in the top drawer
of my night stand
I flip through
from time to time
when I can't sleep
when I can't read
when the words don't come
as quickly as the morning does

You're a grain of rice.
Now you have a face.
A hospital bracelet
Boy, 7/27/2011, 10:15am
Folded up in a plastic sleeve
You're dressed like Santa
For your first Christmas

We have the same smile

In this one I'm leaning forward
and your arms and legs
dangle in the air
We were at the park
You loved the flowers and bushes,
the butterflies and birds that
scattered as I pushed you along
The path

The book isn't full,
A plaid patterned
sticky note
shaped like a heart reads
"More to come soon."

Night after night,
book after book,
Crumpled page after crumpled page,

the morning comes.

a photograph of you or two
belongs in the possession of another
you have no idea what you look like
but its not the person you are now

i took a polaroid photo to give to you but it came out blank and i feel like that’s us; a shot taken and still nothing.

Old brown leather gloves,
Hung over the back of a desk chair
Leather on both, cracked with age
Horse hair stuffing protruding
Maps scattered open across the desk,
Edges curled and yellowing
Marks in the margin, scrawled in ink,
The pen dropped by the well, top left casually aside
A photograph of people unknown,
Smiling by the dunes, beach covered in wire
Box Browning, gathering dust sits on the desk, on top
Of a hard backed notebook, marked ’39 –‘41

A moment frozen in time

Life goes by in a flash,
In an instant plans are memories,
Photographs the only residue
Of past normalities,
And then the realization
You’ve been going on along the whole time,
Without ever seeing it.