Browsing in the bookstore,
I stumbled across
a journal

crammed with scraps
people found

in parking lots,
school yards,
fished out of trashcans.

Now I throw
copies of everything
I write away.

The sun came in
from the window behind
and as it touched his face
for the first time

he slowly opened his eyes, smacking
his lips and we

saw each other for the first time.
In that moment,

I saw God,
naked,
embarrassed like Adam,
cheeks flushed like Eve.

The sun glistened off vernix, and he
stared up at me, smelling like her.

I watched the world change, empires toppled, islands sunk,
transitioning from one age into another. I saw dreams
sparkle like firecrackers at midnight.

The lies I’ve taught myself to believe
would never be good enough
for him.

I kissed his forehead,
she smiled,
and God just stood there,
naked and blushing.

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.

Seven hundred ninety four miles.
Twelve hours twenty three minutes.

I would’ve said something.
I should've said anything,

but her bags were packed.

Her boxes stacked
in the back seat.

I could only ask,
“When?”

and she told me
“Tomorrow.”

That night she placed my hand
on her stomach

and I felt you kick
for the first time.

Once I was a Hero,
the Hero of my back yard.
My sword, faith and shield were handy,
kept my face unscarred.

I would fly on wings of ravens,
ride on the backs of beasts,
sleep under the Ice from the west,
rise with the Fire from the east.

I saved many fair maiden,
slew gremlins, ghosts, and goblins,
found ancient treasure from past kings,
ran through numerous gauntlets.

I commanded a battalion of knights,
who would shout my name with pride,
I wonder if my people have missed me,
since the day I grew up and died.

Clean title.
Low miles.
Everything works.
No negotiations.
Cash only.

Love, I have no easy answers for you.
I’ve run out of excuses,
offer no

more apologies, and
I haven’t seen a single
shooting star in months.

I call you love because you were,
because you are,

because,
right now,
to me,
you always will be.

I’m a good man
in a cruel world

that grabs my shoulders
and shakes the hell out of me.

My golden heart shudders
against my chest,
grinding ill-greased gears
of resolve,
lugging the rhythmic consistency
of determination

The world shakes me, spitting,
“You petty fool. What kind
of a man
are you really?”

Love, I have no easy answers for you
because there are some moments

of loneliness on Saturday nights,

moments in life that make my heart beat
like pyrite,

trading soft kisses with neon lights
and shot specials, crawling
into the early hours of the morning

looking for happiness everywhere,
like it’s a forgotten jacket
slumped over a bar stool.

Finding you
in everyone’s
eyes.

These nights,
never change,

the world shakes
and spits.

Remember the night at the lake?

We laid on the hood of my car, we counted
stars like baseball cards,
bottle caps, like the days left
until summer camp.

It was on that night
that I first called you
Love to every meteor we saw.

because
you were.

There are only hard
decisions Love,
but you already know.

Consequences of mistakes,
your impulses fed
mine.

I’m a good man in a cruel world,
my golden heart dims neon,
remembers meteor showers
and childish adoration.
The world shakes
and spits
but my heart
isn’t pyrite.

Crawling from one
shot to the next
I still see you
everywhere.

Love, I have no
easy answers for you.
I’ve run out of excuses,
offer no

more apologies, and
I haven’t seen
a single
shooting star
in months.

to whoever/(whomever)
whatever
is
up there
listening or
isn't