As if crying itself
Is not enough
She turns soft and
Yielding
As if becoming
Her every own
Tear

People die.
Some young.

I recall my stolen
Moment. Soul's eyes

Opening; floating, cradled
In warmth -such

Contrast to the sterile
Chill of the table against

My back-
Beeps and pings fading

Like some sun setting
Somewhere behind.

That's right...
How could I forget...?

Seeing Day.
Sleep ending.

People die.
Some young,

But a few close their eyes
And return. I love this

Beautiful, terrifying
Dream.

I put my hands in the air
And surrender all my money
To a heart that
Begs with one hand
And robs with the other.

I don't judge you, little girl.
I just want you to know
That there are more comfortable
Ways to
Joy.

Change is healthy. Change can be
Growth. A smile is like a kiss; it feels
Good to both.
So here, take all my
Change.

There is no way of getting
Out of here. So we
May as well enjoy
The act of
Staying.

I rub her shoulders; like
Softening mahogany.

Hands ruined from decades
Of construction and boxing

Do her too little good.
I'd give her my back; it's much

Better than hers. Keep my hands
And my stitched up heart with the

Ticking aorta valve of titanium
And granite (such contrast to its

Otherwise volunerable softness), but
I'd give her these shoulders.

They can carry worlds, the full weight
Of a grown woman  

For miles, across continents if so.
They have carried everything except

The ability to lend themselves. As
Useless as beauty to the blind.

I have no pain to speak of.
So I allow myself
Silence.

It has quiet room for
Sympathy.

Even human hands
Unclench
In spring.

Calyx
Fingers.

Look: This flower
Opens to offer; this
To recieve.

A response to Joe's poem,
Young Poets Write For Me.*


I touched an old
Tree once, asking  
About its leaves.
They replied.

Guys.
Never ask her if she'd like
A glass of water.

Water
Is good for everybody.
Any time of day.

Bring
Her water. See that she
Drinks.

...money can't buy you
Happiness. But it allows you to be
Unhappy in a more
Comfortable way.

For Billy and Madison.


Brother more than
Friend

Everyday soldier
Hero/father

Nyack, NY
Windows down

Watching water
And its frame

From bed/
Seat

Appreciating all
Except the

Missing of so much
More than

Some*
Own

Flesh and
Blood

Chose peace over
Own victory

I know
The Hudson River

Knows
Too

In our humble
Eyes

All your
Battles

Are
Won

-

Rivers flow
Fathers sacrifice

His bad knee and my
high blood pressure saw us
ascending  
at a slow pace into the
giant hand of mist, running its
fog fingers between trees and
boulders.

having reached the first level,
we turned and looked as far as
the weather allowed.
it rained sideways, but the ground
held a few degrees below freezing.
trees, plants, stones... all was
covered in a layer of ice,
adding to itself with every drop
frozen.

feeling like Sam and Frodo for a
split second; lost in an alien
landscape.
even the dog sat patiently, shivering
with cold and exhilaration.
Øystein reached down and picked up
a blueberry encapsulated in

the cold, wet matter.
ate it. his dog reacted to the
crunshing sound of consumption.
nah, you wouldn't like this, buddy.
we walked next to the path that
had turned into a slippery death
trap, closing in on the peak.

the wind poked its way through
coats and boots, but we took
shelter beside an ice and snow
covered rock side.
the only people there.  
my best friend leaned back and
closed his eyes.
*wow... listen to the
mountain.

Worlds change. Everydays forge
Themselves harder to relate to.
Whose world is this now?
What time of era is it?

Millennia tic like seconds in
Eyes and ears large enough
To behold aeons.
Solar systems atoms, planets gears in
Perpetual automata.
Life experience has no
Value; time and age grow in
Different directions.
There are no Complete
Encyclopedia-
No Great Answers, no cold hard
Facts of Life, Death or
Other States of
Being or not.
Only vast waves; myriads of
Poetry, and in the innermost
Center of it all:
Mother Voice:

          *Shhhh...little you.
          Relax.
          All is as it should.
          No thing could ever be out
          Of place.
          Or time.
          Or out.

Another person.
That's what people means.  
Thousand of smiles
That you still haven't seen.

Eyes looking back,
Hands shaking one's own.
A thousand reminders that
One's not alone.

I've been your crutches for
Way too long.
I'm ready to be
Wings
Now.

Could I swallow this ocean
Of pride, so as not to
Drown in it?

Would any one gulp
Make a difference?
Stupid man.

Rather go down with it
Than lying -for once,
Saying:

*"You
Were
Right."

But I might
Wear you out

Life with me
Is both relaxing

And so very
Not

Here
Take my

Best boots
Bring courage

Bring trust
And a

Bottle of pure
Adventure

Come lover
There are

Mountains with
Our

Names on
Them

I think I broke my brain
Trying to remember
Life before enlightenment.
Golden lights escape through cracks.
Soulness inside.
And forever.
Sun.

Nothing tastes quite like a
Freshly stolen apple from
Outside a very expensive house

After someone you're in love
With has just laughed into
The first bite of it,

Hands it to you
And whispers
*Thanks. Thief.

There are those who will stand
Surrounded by friends,
Yet claim to be fighting alone.

There are those who sing songs
In a choir as most, but in
Disharmonious tones.

There are those who suspect
That the meaning of Life
Is survival alone, so they won't

See art as the gold
In the mines of the soul.
But this is for those ones that don't.

Buried a good friend yesterday.
A nice spot; high on the hill
With a view to the Trysil mountain.

His son, my best friend, as collected
As ever, watched the casket lowered into
Homeground, to merge

Over time into the matter of his
Ancestors and fallen friends.
Before the fog cleared and the

Mourners parted, we laughed again.
The way he would have wanted
Us to.

After the four hour drive to my woman's
Appartment, I was met with red wine
And a hug.

The flames from her fireplace dancing
On the leaves -yellow with autumn-
Of a tree nearby.

She sat in a t-shirt uncold, and as my
Shoulders finally lowered, I shivered.
Wrapping me in two fur blankets

And topping my glass off, she changed
The music from metal to Enya; louder
Than considerate to the neighbours,

But who cares? It had been one hell
Of a day, and I'd spent myself
Again.

Spent myself on sympathy and sorrow,
And had nothing left. Nothing
But her,

And a part of me cried like an old man
Who hadn't been able to ever
Before.

I was dead ready for her bed, but
Something... something warm, real, and
Very, very important

Kept my eyes open. How any sensation
In a human soul can blend with such
As comfort, and form contentment.

Standing
Looking
Thinking

Feeling for a
Hand on
My back

Then one
More to form an
Embrace

Would feel
Like losing your
Phone

Panic
Then the relief
*There it is

I have travelled the world
Enough to know
That those who say water
Has no flavour
Haven't.

Whether there be a
God or not
This young woman's arm upon me
-Like a child's around a teddy-

Feels remarkably much like a wing; only
Feathered softer than
Any bird's.

Let me be your shadow;
Never in your way.

You have to stay with me.
Don't ever dare to leave.*
She looks at me with
Little-girl-eyes

That beg rather than threaten.
I have everything I've ever
Wanted, in you. I'll cling to you
With tooth and nail

If I have to. Something like real
Fear in her voice. Real fear,
And I wonder if there's a single
Look, or a string of

Right words I can present
That will hold the flag of my
Intentions through the storm of
Her concerns.

Are you ever going to trust me?
I hum against the warmth of her
Forehead. Ask me in a year,
She replies. I will.

There are places within a woman's
Heart that hurt only slightly less
When touched by a man's hands,  
Than when not.

I give you my eyes.
I have only these two.
World through my ears.
I'll hear it from you.

I give you my eyes.
Give you all that they've seen.
And here are my hands and
The places they've been.

Remember the way that she felt underneath
The streetlight that flowed with the snow to the street.
Snow in her hair; on her nose; on her mouth.
A hat she regret having left home without.

Forget not her smile -it is there, in my eyes-
The sweetest of weapons in brilliant disguise.
Here are my feet, seems we're just the same size.
They've jumped at the moon, they have kicked at the skies.

These legs may be worn, but they've done fairly good.
Supported me whether I ran, sat or stood.
My head you don't want, you should hear it from me:
It's as narrow as ocean, as shallow as sea.

So rip me apart all the way to the core.
Pry protone from neutrone, rob hadrone of quark.
Within my within there is her, nothing more.
She's half of my whole, it is her that I'm for.

Take all that I am, all I'll be and have been.
So the concept of man stands alone and is seen.
There are just three limbs from which I won't part.
One is my braided beard, one is my heart.

Some people lack heart
some poems lack poetry
some loves lack love

Everything beautiful I
Didn't lose
I broke.

Now all that's left
Is real.
I'm too old

For things
That
Aren't. And so

I embrace the
Ashes and dust
I am.

**** you, she says
Smiling between sobs.
You made me stop
Crying.

You visit me at work,
turning hard hats as you approach
the construction site fence.

the fact that they all know who
you are, is the only reason why
no one whistles.

I put down all my tools,
except that look that makes you
blush and cover my face

with your hand; a soft, sweet joke.
*don't look at me like that, boy.
you know what it does to me...

Eleven days since first night.
Seeing us together, you'd guess
As many years.

We compare scars from previous
Love; burns, cuts, disappointments.
Always sneaking a

Peek at the other, looking for
Signs we've promised our broken
Hearted yesterselves

To look out for. Both rather getting
Scratched right now than
Amputated tomorrow.

These are the blind days; the milk-
And-honey contrast to meat and
Potatoes.  

Grown up and grounded,
All we know is that we glitter, and
Test nuggets with sceptical teeth;

Hoping to God and whomever that
We're both plain good to
The other, and not just

Too to
Be
True.

I was put on Earth to feel.
To run my hands through dirt
And thank.

To lift; move and be
Content with the act.
To eat and grow myself into

A shield the size of
Family.

I have only come close
To taking human life.
I have never seen an unanimal birth.

A shield the shape of myself; only
A few sizes too small;  

I thank the gods I've never
Danced on TV.

That I knew how to end a
Marriage. How to lick my

Wounds with the taste of unsatisfied
Woman on my mouth;

How to take **** and
Name it fertilizer.

I've never looked a naked girl  
In the eyes and said "I don't love you."

I've never seen the inside
Of a prison
Sober.

Bringing my
Beautiful girlfriend to watch
My talented brother
Perform on stage

Don't know of
Whom I am the most
Proud
Perhaps

The scriptwriters
That compose my life
The guys at the soundtrack
Department

Deserve an award
Also  
Good job, people
I would like to thank

The casting crew as
Well
Female lead this season
Is an adventure of an actor

I cut myself on the shards
Of the hourglass
I broke open to
Count the grains of
Time spent on equally
Meaning-
Less
Activities.

Ours might be the last generation
That cared to fix broken things.

Lifelong love is proof of the
Power of will to beat a dead

Horse until it stands up and
Keeps walking.

...but I would rather see you
Laugh from a distance
Than watch your
Misery from this close.*

**** you, lady
Of poet.

I brush until I spit
Red. ****
Warfarin.

I need my blood thin
So it won't clot
In my
Titanium-granite heart
Valve.

It used to worry you
When we brushed
Together.

I always spat again
And replied

You should see me
Wipe...

She always reminded me
To take them.
Asked how many, if
I'd had a few beers.

Medicine is strange like
That, to a freshly single
Man; you never see
That she was

Your nurse
Until she's
Gone.

I guess you're still
Reading by now.

Your voice (that you try not to hear
While you're reading to

Yourself) would lull me to
Sleep if I heard it as

Closely as
You do.

If I had everything I wanted,
I'd be rich.
If I had everything I needed,
I'd be free.

My shoulders were weak
From being there for myself
To lean on,

So I let my guard down
And **** well cried onto
Her naked skin,

Whispering between sobs
I'm so tired. Just...
So tired.

Not my most manly  
Of moments. Not the
Least, either.

Sweet workman's lack of sleep.
Unfrowned-upon
Headfull of wine
In the
Morning.

That slow rhythm held steadily
For hours.
Eyes locked.

We were there.
I couldn't look away.
Neither could you.  

Something built up
Between the eyes and hearts
And centermost of us

Both finally broke.
And my tear hit your
Iris. And was yours.

Not much scars as
Ugly as bite marks
On your feeding-
Hand.

Somewhere out there
A man lays dying
Whose last thoughts
Are a wishing that his life
Had been more like
Mine.

As if it's not
Enough that my
Mother liked her

At first sight;
My cat -who warms

Up to dogs and
Human strangers
In equal-

Just spent the
Night curled up

By her head. It's
Those huge
Little things

That make a
Man say thanks to

Such ordinary
Concepts as
Sunday,

Overcast and
*Morning.

Not quite sure
How we

Ended up
Without clothes

I hold you
My chest to your

Back
Eyes interlocked

In mirror
I help myself

To your every
Treasure

You try to close
Your eyes

But we are too
Beautiful

To be
Unwitnessed

You lean an ocean
Of raven hair

Against my
Face

And whisper
The Devil's honest

Truth: Everything
You see

Is
Yours

I
Know

Spring sun rising
On fields dry from
Frost that sing
Of rainbows.

Duet between the frail film
Of ice on everything
And its beautiful astral
Killer.

Light playing on surfaces at their most beautiful
Right before they
Perish.

It is a rainy evening.
The tires on the car aren't
New.
I won't use my phone; you're
Driving.
You should have been home.
Not yet late enough for me to
Allow myself to worry properly,
But I stand by the window for
One tenth-of-a-second
With the feeling of a toddler
That suddenly realizes
As the sun sets between trees
That it cannot hear their
Voices any more.
At all.