is a delightful pleasuring, to be equally enjoyed by the giver as well as the recipient


say it slow, like it is a well chewed, tastefully
delivered morsel, let it hang in the air so
it is available to all, and greet it with the
precisely perfect response like an old dearest friend, recovered & uncovered once more, with the well considered, perfectly constructed and fine elegance of a


welcoming

I say thank you
Thank you to the me that brought me to myself.
The one who weathered the storm
The one that suffered as waves crashed
The one who pushed on when everything seemed lost.
Thank me.
For I would not be I
if you had not been you.

O God
this living minute
is enough to thank
it's a present
not death!

Ever wonder who's on the other end of these poems
Are they really human? Possibly clones?
Maybe a bunch of chimps in a dank room typing away
And after months of randomness, they conjure something clever to say
Some people are probably just busy, others insecure
That's one weakness every poet can relate to, I'm sure
But for a bunch of lonely souls, just longing to feel connected
It's amazing how many times I've reached out, only to be rejected
This place, this space, some people just seem so hollow
And you wonder to yourself,
do I even want to be followed?

...to weekday wake-up calls
...to monotonic wardrobe
...to the smell of coffee
...to blank spaces
...to conversing chairs and empty benches
...to long walks
...to midnights
...to back porch poetry and sonnets
...to sunday morning bike rides
...to gloomy days
...to days without plans
...to days with random plans
...to stillness and invisibility
...to taking chances
...to gestures big and small
...to love languages and unintentional kindness
...to the right song at the right time
...to words spoken and unspoken
...and to all i forgot to thank
...thank you.