dating a writer
is like guessing the weather.
you think you know what you'll get,
but you never do.

you never know
because

she'll create a hero
from your weaknesses

and she'll write a great character,
from every last flaw.

she'll create a thousand plots  
from your worst nightmares.

she'll take every last thing you hate
and create something you'll love.

she'll turn your anger
into confessions of adoration,

and she'll make you,
everything you're not.

but worst of all,
she'll leave you wondering-
is it you she's in love with,
or things she's created from you?

but here's the beauty of it:

if you date a writer,
you'll never die.

Delilah baby I can feel the weight of you in my arms.

I can feel my k to z love for you and see how that laugh of yours makes people cry
and how that smile pierces my heart because it looks just like his did.

I can feel the sun kissing each one of our toes as we sit overlooking the grand canyon in the kaleidoscope sunset.
your spider fingers are wrapped in my hair like a plea to never be left alone
your spindle legs are all knobby kneed and pale entwined with mine.

baby he left me not you.

I was a hurricane and he loved you too much to look

afraid that one glance and he'd be head over heels reeling out of control
like you were the drug and he was the addict.

they say everything happens for a reason and you are my reason.

Delilah baby you are the here and the now of forever.
the stop sign on the corner is an obstacle for street racers but its a godsend because its just enough of a pause for me to kiss you between the eyes.

and I can't ever finish anything so this story isn't complete

and at the top of the pass where the air is clear enough if we sing loud enough maybe he will hear us and remember who he left behind.

White american men with
gold retriever dogs
smoke black hatred,
not recognizing a grey smog.
Scared of black, brown --
all atheists are ill --
but not afraid of greenbacks
or guys named Bill.

Okay.

Here's your day job. Here's your pay, Bob.
America the great.
If terrorists equal Muslim
then Christians equal hate.

You say it's not victimization.
You say it's not a hunt.
You say it's not intimidation,
but sometimes I think you
see people as witches, ****.

Christ is the answer, indeed.
Without Him we're all lost
and our souls will never be freed.
Like tears frozen in the frost.
Bibles, crucifixes to fix the diseased mind.
How much does a prayer have to cost
to be genuinely kind?

Chemtrails stain pages
and bleed as curses.
Gay rights to be denied,
according to bible verses.

Nursery rhymes and cult games,
all in the good old King James.
Archaic and inane,
like an alter sheltered brain.

Here's your day job. Here's your pay, Bob.
Use the check to pay
angels and evangelists.
Protect yourself from ideas,
and buy a white picket fence.

i don't watch home movies
hate them
reason being because
when i was young
i was looking for a movie
my mother
had recorded for me
and accidentally
put one in the vcr
that i'm not sure
i was supposed to see
i know the obvious response
"uh oh, ****"
sorry to disappoint
they were only marked with dates
  1991
on live television
montel williams asks my father
"how can you just throw
your child away like a piece of trash?"
   1994
i spend so much time
in the emergency room
that my parents stop
penciling in growth marks
on the frame
of my bedroom door
i always thought
it was because they believed
i would never grow out
of this sickness
sometimes i believe
the reason that they
never bought me a dream catcher
was because they never thought
i'd live long enough
to see them come true
   1996
i am eliminated
from a spelling bee
because i didn't know
the 'dad' is silent in 'family'
   2013
before i got into poetry
i used to do standup
none of my jokes were funny
one of the other comics
tells me my skits are dry
sometimes sad
he says "why don't you joke
about something like your family?"
so i say
"i never wore any sunblock
because i didn't want anything
to keep me from my father"
i say "what do you call christmas
without lights or heat?"
before he has a chance
to answer
i say "1997. better yet
why don't you
make like a dad and
leave"
   2014
every time we drive
past the hospital
my mother reminds me
how much it cost to save my life
like she'd rather
have her money back
she doesn't have to say
that sometimes she wishes
it was me who had died
instead of my brother
i can hear it in the way
she says "love you"
sometimes i imagine
that if i were to die
that she
would pick out a casket for a child
because she never loved
the person i became
yesterday i told my father
how close i'd been
to suicide lately
and he said
"that's my boy,
livin on the edge.."
and i can't remember
if i laughed
or cried

We were beautiful children
And we grew up so brave,
We were touched by death and heartbreaks but we stayed just the same.

We listen to jazz all night and drink red wine,
Find ourselves adventure to pass the time,
We don't talk much about the pain we've felt inside,
No more bumps in the road,
Just enjoying the ride.

Our love is too strong to carry weight of what's gone,
We find peace in the sun,
And the belief of being young.

Love of mine in the world,
We are one in the same,
You can laugh while you're crying and be childish when you lose games,
We are fine, we are okay,
We are in love,
And our children someday will be just like us.

Twisted sheets, mind on stutter
Unable to sort through this midnight clutter
Put it away for tomorrow
But what to do with my gnawing sorrow?
I circle soft blue on color book pages
Hoping the repetition eventually assuages
The raw edged reality of lonely dark hours
Filling the void with Crayola flowers

She's in the kitchen
(close the door)
just mixin' up some metaphor;
a true conundrum
through and through
and through to me and thus to you.

Her humble hunger
(forest's slumber)
thunders 'neath a wilting tune;
tuned to too many
to count without
a thought within.

She must profess
(but shall confess)
to any who will listen;
closely she holds
a tragic history
mostly mystery to most.

She solves my soul
(I deny that hole)
which she still fills;
overflowing always
with such unrelenting joy
that is My Love.