Happiness hurts.
Because though I'm laughing
I can't help remembering
another time
I laughed just like this.
It kills me
that I wish to go back.
And when months
or maybe years
pass.
I'll look back at today
for the very same reason
I looked back at yesterday.

Only for you, I

am in the picture, says her --


understanding look.

I looked up
This morning
Before
the globe
Of life lifted from
The dark horizon

The passengers
In the sky
Began to announce
Their arrival
With frosting
Dressing the gray floaters
Tipping a hat to the mistress sun

As do the yellow roses
That glow in the darkest
Of green along the
Fence. Next to me.
Waking up.

One only knows
The presence of the days beginning
By these clouds
These flowers
And the black capped chickadee
Announcing all clear
See-see dearee
All threats are gone.

So hard to come by
Unless you know where to look
Have you found that place?

i just want to see
if he texted me back.
no, no,
i don’t really care,
it’s just that
when i talk to him, it feels as though my words are finally worth something.
it’s not like i cannot go by my day without his acquaintance,
i am a writer after all,
and i am accustomed to a life where my words are disregarded.
i speak to the wind and that is okay.
but i am a writer and all i want is
for somebody to listen to my ramblings
and to understand
me.
i just want to see
if he said hello;
because yes i can get by with him not texting me back,
my rants do not always have a response
(discontinued)

History is like a mirror;
the closer you look,
the more you'll see things
that you don't want to see.
The more distorted the picture becomes.
But, if it's your history you're looking at,
the distortion offers a rare chance.
A chance to change the way
you look at your past.