You smile at me
Tired eyes that
May not really
Mean it

I'm a very little
Boy
You could slap me
To death

And
Not
Really mean
It

Inside the center of her
"Now" I find my yesterself.
Blushing juvenile
Torn between nervous
And not.

I carry.
I carry care.

I take it with me
Everywhere.

It's as heavy
As the air between

The feathers of a baby
Bird that finally

Lets itself
Fly.

I carry.
I carry love.

Always free.
Always above

Fear.
I carry care.

*Meet me
There.

I've stood wounded before
Gods and parents,  
Hand on my heart to keep the blood
Inside for as long as it took me to say:
It was me.

It was my responsibility.
It was me.  
At times the only meaning you
Find in a chapter of
Your life,

Is the peace you feel when
Realising that you -all in
All- have no one but
Yourself to blame.
So you don't.

It hurts.
It hurts like bones growing.
Like disengaging from the machine
And learning to breathe
On your own.

Good memories and others
Alike, move the waters
Of my innermost.
Tides of time cannot wash away
Our footprints.
I burn calories by making peace
With the beauty of even pain.
Looking back so hard my
Eyes are sweating.

Something like Mozart -only not-
Swinging from her
Speakers as her
Sofa gets barely wide enough
For two desert wandering souls
Approaching the same
Water.

Same pure,
Simple, simple water.
Something like perfume,
Only not, floating sweetly
On my hands, as as
Vivid a ghost as any of any
Living thing I've felt in ages.

The boys and Lennon sang
Truth. Sometimes, all you
Need is
Love. Any kind.
Any intensity.
Any sort of
Sensitivity.

Anything like Einaudi's piano
Will wake it up again;  
That tattoo on the face
Of Time and Space where
You took
Something you were given
With a steady hand.

Funny how a phone call can
Place a kiss upon a
Heart that needs one.

Friend, more.
Whatever you
Want.
I'm done with judging
Doors and their timing.

I could need your healing
For decades.

Whether tomorrow comes
For only you; the night came for my
Soul. The winds that carry
Scents of all
Have also mine.
I am with you.
Always.

Whether tomorrow's workday
Saw me not returning home
Other than a phone call made
With expressed regret
I am right beside you,
Lending shoulder to your tears.
I am with you.
Always.

Whether tomorrow changed forever
For you (is this happening to me?)
I am as close to you
As the hands I hold your face with
Now, while I still
Can.
I am with you.
Always.

Mirror-faced with
The cold feeling of
-Razor in hand-
Having taken off
Too much beard.

This knowing you made
The argument
Ugly.

Strange name for a cat, I know.
She had the drawings and
Attitude of one.

The fact that she preferred to
Be left alone most times made
Her my little best friend.

Four years ago she fit in the palm
Of my hand. The last time I held
Her, only her head did.

No more pain free
Cures for what bothered her,
And yesterday no little black dot

Came bouncing across the field
At the sound of my car.
No tip of a tail dancing hungrily

Outside the glass door when I
Left this morning. Funny how
Two sleeping kilos can

Form such a presence in a room,
And their absence the same.
Caught myself about to fill her

Bowl when I got up, then told
Myself to man up and swallow
That lump in my throat

That I hadn't felt from the loss
Of an animal friend in
Decades.

It felt big enough to fit in
The palm of
My hand.

My whole life
I've been focused
At times almost
Desperate to win

The fight
I never tried
To beat
*It

I get so close
To it
I can taste it
In the
Air

Then my personality
Changes
To a lesser
One, like
The

Wind suddenly
Changing
On a hunter,
Giving his
Scent

To it;
Seeing it
Flee from
The mouths
Of his
Children.

Woman's consolement comes
In handiest forms.

Incredible healing within
Spoonfuls of
Icecream.

I rest solo
A bed for two
Feels like
Hotel

Where is home

Wherever I rest my
Head
Isn't

Now

That old man working the fields outside
His old, windworn house.

His granddaughter in her light blue dress
On the swing in the garden,

Cotton flowing behind her like some tail
Tracing a comet of innocence.

Her dog, only twice the size of the
Two squirrels climbing the trunk

Of the tree her swing swings from,
Yapping at her, either for attention

Or in appreciation of the love she
Must, must feel for it.

Two seconds, and they're gone.
Driving on.

My girl inflating her yoga ball
On the living room floor, throwing

Her hair back and smiling, dizzy from
Oxygen spent.

She passes it to me, you do the rest,
But I'm too busy writing about her.

She laughs with her whole self.
Stares back at me when she catches

Me staring first. What? she'll giggle, and
As she stands up and moves towards me,

Still
Staring,

I see that this poem is ending. Two
Seconds.

She's still
Here.

I am blessed to be a
Man of emotion and
Action.

Heart on my sleeve at
All times; I have never
Concealed a weapon.

I could be a dog left out in the rain,
Hungry and counting every minute
In sevens.  
I'd wait for you for days, through
Nights, never giving up.
Raising my wet head at every and any
Shadow passing. Hoping. Hoping.
Hoping.

I'll wait forever for you to trust me.

I could be a single seed, windborne,  
Then dropped in just enough soil
To crack open and whisper myself roots
As faint as mere thought at first.
Growing, drinking, bathing in sun,
Bending with the movements of
Earth and air.

I'd grow forever until you trusted me.
I'll wait forever for you to trust me.

I've hurt as many people as I've shaken
Hands with in this life.
Nearly every important choice I made
Was a bad one.
I take full responsibility.
So trust me.

I'll never lie and say I'll never make you
Cry. I love you too honestly for
Truthlessness. No cloak and dagger,
No lie less white than Girl, these flowers  
Are not for you.
I am as disappointingly human as
They come.
Men.

I'll let you down, I'll make you wonder,
I'll see you question your own
Judgement, and taste in men.
I refuse to pretend to be more than I am.
I'm too old to fake.
Too old to care too much for  
Opinions and impressions.
So trust me;

I'll shake my wet fur on your new coat,
I'll jump up and lick your face,
Leave strands of hair and smelly
Wet smudges all over you,
As happy as only a dog can be.
Trust me.
Take the leash and walk me home.

I've been waiting forever for you to
Trust me.
I'll wait forever for you to trust me.

I'm not even tied to that pole.

I zoom out
Interested in seeing how
It'll all come together

Or not

I will observe myself
Crying into a pillow or
Onto her face
Thanking

See my own heart either
Cave in on itself
Or take my arms for wings
And lead me up

Laughing like a child
In a carousel going only
Slightly too
Slow to be

Scary

That died fighting
To free itself from
The cobweb

Inside the ventilation
Shaft between
Fifth and

Sixth floor still
Has its
Colours

So much purple
In this sunset
It seems
Cartoon.

I know they all talk about me,*
He mutters.
Whenever I'm home sick, they
Say that I'm never at work.
That I'm always late.
That I do a bad job.

I look down into my coffee.
We talk about him, all right.
As soon as he takes a sick day,
We know he'll be back the next.
Pale with lingering fever.
Wet with sweat.

We speak of how he's always
At work. Hardly ever comes in
Less than an hour
Before us others.
How he pours his whole self into
Any job he's given. Always.

He would never choose to
Believe me, so I change the subject.
Each man his own attitude.
Funny how the brain keeps
Blaming the heart for
Its feelings.

You don't have to worry about
Sleep- you'll get more than enough
Before driving me to the doc's,*
She reminded me last night.

A mental note to text my boss
In the morning.
He'll understand. They always do;
Humans as full of love and worry
As anyone.

Instead of cranes, concrete trucks
And workers in black and yellow
Like bees outside my office window,

I see pinetrees dancing with winds
Warmer than yesterday's,
Beyond homefields of fresh-spring
-Light-brown-

And she breathes heavily on the
Sofa, shielded from the early
Afternoon sun,
Relieved from white coated,
Warm-handshaking sharing
Of news; none but reassuring.

Streched out like a cat mid-nap.
A beautiful, deflated balloon.
Breathing; not bleeding.
Sleeping; not anesthesized.

I worry not about sleep.
Hers is mine.

Florø, Norway's
westernmost town, 2015.


All you could ever be,
Is *you.
All you ever held was yours
Within the holding.

I ask the snow covered island
Peak towering beyond the body
Of ocean. What is your
Mountain name?

It answers in its
Mother's tongue; silence:
*I am God to Pebble.
I am Child to Ranges.

Brother to Sea stroking my
Sides. Even dancing with Sister
Storm, his every wet touch is
Caress.

I am I.  
Rigid within my given space.
Learn from me if you will.
I care as little as stone.

Evening raindrops gathering
Along the bottom of my
Bedroom window

Make me
Turn down the music
And listen with a heart

Filling up like the eyes of
An old woman; once mother,
Now not,

Beholding an infant so
Young, it'll remain one for
A very long

Time. Some tones
Form chords that hurt
Like caramel burns.

Sweet loves lost in bitter
Ways were still that
Sweet.

Still that
Sweet; now
Forever.

I lost not;
Gained
Lovely ghosts.

All I could ever become
Is perfectly contained
Between Every Day Hero
And someone who is at times
Afraid of darkness.
And light.

Green and blue joined
By red cabins
Against them both.

Skies and fields.
She yawns under my
Hand on the train.

Outside the other window,
The ancient snake of silver
River; no longer the

Highway, as in old
Days rich with
Boats and flotsam.

I cannot see a cloud.

She's a cat in the sun through
Glass; stretching, slight little
Clicks of joints and bones.

Leans her head
On my shoulder. Smells of
Shampoo and Summer-

Skin.
Is gone.

There are woods yet that
We're in.
Paths perhaps in shadows

We must walk
To get out,
Together. Still,

I cannot see a cloud.

The peace with which you rest
Reminds us: You were
Somewhere
Else before.
This world, it screams in violent
Dreams, but you know
Not the ways
Of war.

Deepest contrast -black to bright-
The way you smile
While others fight.
Could it be behind those
Eyes you see
The true
Reality?

The adult here is you alone,
The child is rampant
-Running free.
Fighting over toys and candy
While you're resting
Peacefully.

She loves to drive, but fears the
Station where the machine that
Loves her needs to
Fuel up in
Peace before the
Journey
Continues.

As if the ignition is off
Forever.

Don't drink.
Don't smoke.
Drive slow.
Don't love.

Don't pat the animals;
One in a thousand
Might bite.
You'll be safer in a pine box.

Sometimes it's the
Cure for cancer
That kills
You.

I don't care if your internet
Is slow out there.
I'm not spending the
Weekend at your place
To waste it on Facebook.*

She speaks my language.
Fluently.
|So much more than
Just ones and
Zeros.|

Yes, you still make sounds
From the kitchen. Some
Jingles on TV remind me

Of us. They're fewer now.
I'm beginning to feel less
Like how a place must

Feel after
Everybody has
Left.

Appreciation in the
Beggar's eyes when your
Coins sing against the others
In his cup.

You look around to see
If anyone saw you,
Then walk on,
Proud of your

Charitable heart.
Oh, so proud.
Well, I thank you on
Behalf of my broke brother,

Sad, though, that your ego
Speaks so loudly no-one
Can hear what your soul is
Trying to say.

It's the way Petrucci's guitar paints
Itself with one long stroke onto

LaBrie's voice at the
Beginning of the solo,

And the way we both look
Up at each other with eyes that

Know more about Dream Theater
Than most, smiling in new born

Infatuation and goosebumps
Shared, that I know that I'm in

The kind of sweet, sweet trouble
That sneaks in through your

Guard without you noticing; the
Path-to-heart that has been cleared

By little things upon little things;
How a good producer uses

Barely audible elements to lift a
Song into grace and perfection.

Lunch pack made with fresh love,  
Something like soft electricity

Between our skins; relaxed islands
In a carefree ocean. Music, music,

Music. She shreds the fastest air
Guitar this side of the coast, and

I just want to stay. Dig. Hang. Hold. I
Have nothing I want to escape to,

And with the song that will be ours
As long as she's mine, and remind

Me of us forever after, I find peace
In restlessness on the floor of her

Apartment, as if it's her singing
*This distance in my voice

Isn’t leaving you a choice,
So if you’re looking for a time to

Run away... you won’t find it here,
Look another way.

You won’t find it here.  
So try another day.

How I spell
"Love"?
I hide my every alphabet

Within you.
We learn to burn our old
Preferences.

Enough gentle winds turn
Puddles into
Cavities.

I thank the grounds for not
Being levelled out
For once.

Not scared of hights any
More; I grunt when your feathers
Tickle my nose.

Godlessness.
Church is my mouth upon
You.

I read it in the skies.
Clouds part before my eyes
Tomorrow.
For today, I will
Let it rain.

Watch dark clouds turn lighter
With each drop
Upon the forever careless
Grounds.

Let it all free itself.
Wind dries. Sun warms.
Grass grows.
Love shifts.

Blue skies are as common
As air.

What? Are you HERE?*
She's on her phone, waiting for her suitcase.
Girlfriend, I live twenty minutes away from the

Airport. Now get your luggage and run out
Here before your roses start
Stinking.

She's through the arrival gates in five minutes.
Swapping flowers for bags and a kiss,
I cannot for my own life grasp

Her surprise. Not used to being treated
Like a woman?
She smells her roses, fresh from 7-11,

Click-clackety-clacking down the airport
Tiles with less to carry than
Ever, this day.

She answers, and I
Feel so ****
Giant.

What a drawf
World it has
Become...

For a little while.

Breathe.
Breathe wordless
Air.

Every poem I write
Is a baby.
Sometimes they're not as
Pretty as the lil'uns of
Our kind,
But loved none the less.

And they grow
Shorter
Smaller
Inwards; the opposite
Of a
Child's ways.

There are worlds
Within
Space.

I have so much left of
myself to see.
I hope you would like to go
find it with me.

I have so much growing
I know I must do.
I'm hoping you'd like me
to grow it with you.

A spark escaped from my
Fireplace.
Flew for a while; went out
Midair and became this
Poem.

Hearts and heads.
Hearts and heads.
Thoughts at daytime,
Tears in bed.

Fingers and skin.
Fingers and skin.
Stop by the church,
Or continue in sin?

Sky so high.
Sky so high.
So far up, and we can't
Fly.

Stone or feather.
Stone or feather.
Float or fall.
We'll find out together.

For those of care.
Of care.

Have you ever heard
An ambulance crew's

Member talk a brittle little   
Old lady into a

Young, confident
One?

You should see
Those eyes awaken

With living fire; so unlike
Those

That made us
Call.

Big brother, only one that loves you slightly more.
Somebody who touches you in ways you've never felt before.

Reinforced concrete foundations that
All we are is built upon.

Guardian of Soul, Harvester of Pleasure; Man of Moon, Venus Whisperer.
God of Gods to you.

No less. Asking you to let me let you serve me,
I am no less a normal man

Than any normal man.

Old Heart. Spiteful thing;
Always jumping in

Head first, never consulting
Brain.

What have you done? I have
Asked more than

Once,
On Brain's behalf.

Seems this time at least,
You're both

Working
Together.

I stand so still
With no crop to protect
I become centre of ******

Island of Field
Backdrop of multiple
Horizons behind me

I can't see you through
The black cloud
Of crows  

I can't hear you through
Flutters of wings and
Hoarse cries

How many birds and
A man will it take
To frighten you away

Scaregirl
Dressed in living
Black to your white roses.