There is only
Hello
    then
In Between
    and then
Goodbye

Tonight the Black Ink River flowed
like coffee from an old cold cup
poured slowly down the drain.

I woke up screaming,
knowing you were gone,
running down the hall
calling your name.

I poured words on paper,
songs I should have done
and sung
just for you

I poured words on paper,
letters I should have written
and sent
just to you.

And the Black Ink River flowed
like coffee from an old cold cup
poured slowly down the drain.

I poured words on paper.
Lists of everything
I didn’t do
just for you
Everything I didn’t say
just to you

I poured more words on paper,
all the words I’d say
if I could,
just to you,
if you were here.

I poured more coffee,
poured more tears,
poured more words on paper

And the Black Ink River flowed
like coffee from an old cold cup
poured slowly down the drain.

I poured words on paper,
songs I should have sung
letters I should have written
things I should have done,
things I’d say, if you were here.

I poured more coffee,

poured more tears,

poured more words on paper.

And the Black Ink River flowed.

We are the homeless,
that’s what you call us,
our name is just Homeless,
not John or Jane, or even people.

We are the homeless,
that faceless blob in tent cities,
under bridges, on park benches,
in doorways, and the woods.

We are the homeless,
the ones without TV
to hear the lies about
for everyone and unity.

We don’t vote and
we don’t donate.
We don’t burn and riot.
So our voices are never heard.

We are the homeless,
that’s what you call us,
our name is just Homeless,
not John or Jane, or even people.

We are the homeless,
People, not just homeless
H  
P  
M  
2
Homeless People Matter Too.

We are the homeless,
that faceless blob in tent cities,
under bridges, on park benches,
in doorways, and the woods.

We are the homeless,
People, not just homeless
H  
P  
M  
2
Homeless People Matter Too.

Sometimes we need to just let go -
We can’t forever be the man
hoping on the end of a rope
dangling over the river.

There is a need to let go –
people, memories, things.
Drop into the river.
Life doesn’t just stop.

Lying here, in the sand,
under unseen stars
blanked by rain clouds,
amidst seaweed and sand *****,
and broken shells.

I am a piece of driftwood
tossed on the shore
by waves of a world
that cares not where I land,
or whether or not
I float back out to sea.

Once upon a time
I used to be me.  
I knew what I could do,
and what I wanted to be.

No one asked if I had dreams
so I began to think I shouldn’t,
and the life I wanted to have
began to look like one I couldn’t.

So I began that grow-up trip,
cutting away pieces of me,
a little at a time, so slowly
I never even noticed.

Every day, another piece
discarded in the far-back mind,
replaced with the new pieces
everyone said I had to find

And then one day, suddenly
I’ve passed through the grow-up route
and now I am this collection of pieces.
I don’t give a **** about.

But I can still remember,
once upon a time,
when I used to be me.

One morning
the day will start without me.
The sun will rise, and the birds will sing.
The winds will blow, and the clouds will flow
through the day without me.

And one day
the night will start without me.
The sun will set, and the stars will shine.
The moon will pass across the sky
through the night without me.

It won’t be the end,
there will be another day,
more time to remember.
Life isn’t about this moment,
this day,
but all the moments and
days with you
that led to this last one.

And that day
I hope you know
how lucky I was that
the sun and birds
and wind and clouds,
the night and moon
and stars and God
shared you with me.

One night,
when the house is still,
you will reach for me in bed,
finding only quiet memories
of so many nights holding each other.
Smile and just remember
how much I loved you.

And that night
I hope you know
how lucky I was that
you loved me too.