Laughter & glitter
Sunshining through straight white teeth – voice unheard of
With a smile to make any man slither over
Cutting soft stomachs open
Driving out with sticks and leaves and rocks
And leaving me with the tab
How like them to err for the sake of error
Terrible and true
Acuity bound
It’s feeding time at the zoo &
There’s no one to take this noose off around my neck
We were swimming in the gulf when she asked
Why create when there’s so much to destroy?
My hands their play things too
Toys ordained from disdain sustained
By tight men in tight suits
Watching us from Ivory Towers
What a relief
& the power trips of the circus beneath them
Reaching out with viral irony I scream
Out to the heavens heaven doesn’t take collect calls
& here she is connecting souls to mates
Correcting hate and abating disgrace worldwide
Webs intangible but thought to be hooked
To the hearts that spun them
Free flowing love & peace to cut my noose hung from
The sycamore tree
As for me what more could please
Disease eradicated
People educated
Our lives illustrated not by blood off a bayonet
But by regret eliminated
Fat cats in high homes with low self esteem would seem
Just as happy to see her redacted from the text books
Crooked lies straightened & the sad thing is they
Trick us fine serfs to mitigate others in their organized ignorance
Leaving us in the dark to elbow for clues
Groping the dust blind &
Hurting ourselves with ***** fingernails scratching
She shouts like a car crash &
Everyone’s at the scene drawn to attention
By flashing red & blue
Cashing their moral chips for a peepshow
Their smiles use less muscles than frowns but take twice the effort
Affecting deflections of accusations
People listen & how couldn’t they?
Her words lifting chins like a rope over a branch
But this time the tree’s on fire
The Tower’s burning & she’s cutting all the safety nets
Like she cut the rope off around my neck

‘In the end, it’s the indifference that gets you. You think you’ll have years to get to know each other and, what the hell do they call it, grow “emotionally” together. Relationally. Forget it. That ****’s for the birds.’

Scrtchschrrttchschrttch.

The subject arched his extended index and middle fingers on both hands twice in quick succession as he said “emotionally”. He pronounces “birds” as if it’s spelled b-o-y-d-s.

‘I’m serious. I’ll tell you I’m deadly serious. You think you’re going to grow old with some broad and not cater some resentment? Where the ****’ve you been, kid? Didn’t your old man teach you about women? The times change but one thing remains the same: women. You think that fancy piece of paper over there on the wall really means anything? There’s stuff out there you just got to live through to understand.’

Scrtchschrrrrtschrtschrttch.

‘Well, yeah sure, okay that bit about taxes is true too. Taxes and women. Anyway you got me off track. You marry a girl and sure you feel good. But whatcha don’t know is that a successful marriage is the product of compromise. Love has nothing to do with it. It becomes something you just accept, like gravity. The apex of microdemocracy at its finest. We’re talking respecting and loathing, and I cannot stress enough the irony here, a person too much you wonder why you don’t just wake up the next day and put a bullet through both of your sorry skulls so you both don’t have to live out this day-to-day ******* nightmare anymore. No more waking up and sitting at a breakfast table so quiet the steam rising out of your cup of joe is audible. We’re talking no natural human noises whatsoever. It’s like high-security solitary confinement, but where the schmuck in the straightjacket’s not allowed to even use plastic silverware without the business end of at least three 9mm’s pointing at him by state-appointed officers of the law, not allowed to even ******* feed himself. He’s like almost forced to live like he’s 5 again, kind of like a sick joke, adult supervision one hundred percent of the time. But then at home it’s worse because there is someone in the room with you. You feel this hole in your soul and it’s big. It’s like both of you are looking at the elephant in the room and at the same time looking at each other looking at the elephant. You want to cry but you can’t, you just physically can’t. Screaming won’t help neither because then everyone else but her will hear it. We’re talking about complete isolation.’

There is the sound of cloth across cloth and loose change jingling as right ankle is lifted off of left knee and left ankle is placed on right knee. The subject is visibly perspiring. His face does not have a flush look to it as so much as a sort of the homogenous color of deli ham. An office door slams. The subject’s breathing is audible and moist.

‘What happened? Why doesn’t she give a **** about me anymore? Why don’t I really care? Why do I feel worse about not caring I care than the actual caring? Jesus. Jesus.’

Scrchtchrsctrch. Schtrschchsshtsch.

‘I used to love her you know. That **** I said to her in front of God and Jesus and, like, everyone I ******* knew, those promises to till death do us part and yadda yadda, none of that even came close to mentioning what this is like. I used to love her. I think she used to love me too. I don’t know what even happened, my marriage. One day we’re on a beach in O’ahu and next thing I know I’m shaving in the shower with a straight razor, eyes closed, and hopping on one foot, just tempting fate. I haven’t seen her smile since last May, the episode of my missing glycerin tablets. Heart murmurs.

Sctrtch. Sctrchtrchschtrschtchschtrchshctrch.

‘Of course I’ve thought about a divorce. She’s got to have to considered that too. But here’s the ultimate irony. You go through these pointless gestures every ******* day; every ******* day you get up and wonder just how much more you can take it. It’s like it’s so strong you can feel every second walk on by and slap you on the mouth. It’s so strong that the sight of her literally, literally turns you mute with pressured hatred. Hatred towards the ***** sitting at the other end of the table but sitting there with her head down, complete undivided attention on her toast. Hatred towards yourself for not getting up and chugging every bottle under the kitchen sink right then and there. Hatred for realizing you have nothing in common with your wife anymore and she couldn’t care less that it’s eating you up so bad you get cold sweats. It’s so strong you just sort of freeze and not say a word, just sit there and take it all in, praying for that arterial blockage that will take you to the promised land.’

Sctchschtrch.

'Do you know what it’s like to live with self-contained hatred? Feeling this hate but at the same time just not caring. Hatred that only grows from not a lack of communication but a complete absence of communication, like, I can’t talk to her because I’m too full of pent up depression, loathing, anger, anxiety about actually trying to talk to her, anxiety about failing to talk to her. And these feelings just stew in me and shut me down. No talking. With her. Just sitting there, the desire to communicate just to see if we’re even on the same ******* page, sitting there and wanting to talk but can’t because the loathing and anger towards your wife completely and utterly removes the ability to express any sort of rational thought and the anger over your spontaneous speechlessness just keeps growing making the attempts at even idle chit-chat a prospect steadily receding into the sunset. Just sitting there feeling perhaps the strongest emotion I have ever felt but at the same time feeling completely apathetic towards the current situation.’

Sctrchtrchschtrscrchtrchschtrsch. Sctrchtrchschtrschsctrchtrchschtrsch.

‘Do you know what that’s really like to have to live in this cycle of perpetual hate and silence and the same time indifference toward the hate?’

Sctrchtrch. Scrtchschrrrrtschrtschrttch. Sctrchtrchschtrsch.

‘Do you know what that’s really like?’

Lakeshores are so lonely during the winter and in turn make me lonely.
The light almond sand is still covered with the peace sign spokes of gulls’ feet.
The waves and tide are slower and groggy. Everything takes on a grayish tint and the cold air soaks through cotton layers, socks over socks, and deep into the skeleton. Bones take on a new meaning in the winter. They appear white but compared to snow they are filthy from their responsibilities to the living. They become ***** from living. Everything sounds different here. Voices are muffled. Words mix in with the push of water and become deconstructed into just noise. Speech becomes something of tone and inflection. Speech becomes human birdcalls. The sky is the same grayness as the water and there is always wind. Moving air pushes snowflakes into my dark eyes and black hair. It’s almost as if they are fighting to push me back. Creature of heat and light and breath. You do not belong here.

The summer’s light is raining on everything it touches


           The grass damp with fluid rejoices at
              

This gift from the gods

They
Worship ever

So diligently

      They sing the hymns
Of their Fathers

And cry
                                                                                
For the pain of their Mothers

-That’ll teach them.

-No. It cannot happen this way. I won’t let it.
        

The path up to the shed is worn
              

Down
with
          each
            
                      step

              

Of the silhouettes that

                               Tingle with


Delight                      
                                                
-Come on! Hurry! You’ll be late!

-No one ever misses this. You can’t miss it. Please don’t leave me.

-LISTEN TO ME!
  

They follow their mundane paths as nothing


      More
Than dust from

The grinding stone

   Shadows
Rebel in the light giving squeals of delight
            

Evident demise in the mirror

   gasoline                                                                        
                                                                            of
                                                          bubbles

                                                  like

                                upwards

                        fly

           Tears

  
                And pop on the face

            Kisses

Of fire

Flies

  

And come down like lead dreams



Splinters brush

And caress each fingertip

-You won’t make it right now.

-I throw my head to the clouds.


            Detached

From reality and freed

From restriction of senses


                        Up

The wall



                        On

The ceiling

-Catch!



              I follow through the hole in the wall

And fall out of the sky


-It looks inviting today. Shall we give it a go?

                    

                 Shed door slithers open with a giggle


-Of course you can do this.

              

On the table is House of Cards

            The King of Hearts praises his subjects

With a jump

               To new volatile life

-Hear hear!

The whispers expect what comes next

-Always a crowd pleaser, that one.

            Out

The door across the steps and back

To normalcy

I love it when someone’s thrown into the scene
Like a motorcyclist hitting a woman picking up her children from school
And before she can **** her head back to ask
How was school or
What did you learn today
There’s a helmet crashing through the windshield at 70 mph
Then the swerves and the tire tracks
And the screams and the noise
Everyone get up
Brush yourself off
And ask if everyone’s alright
But the motorcyclist is pronounced dead on the scene
BAC 0.22
And the mother will have to take counseling
Where she’ll start an affair with her shrink
To escape the boredom of suburban life
And the kids will think it’s cool but won’t realize
The whole affair will inspire one to write
Award winning novels
And drive the other into an early suicide

When someone’s caught off guard like that
I can’t help but to smile at
The helplessness and the look on their face
It’s the eyes
The same kind of look the mother has when her
Husband comes home early only to find her
Riding Dr. So-and-so in the same bed her
Two boys were conceived

Later the dad will say to his boys
It’s not your fault
And one will cry like a little girl
And the other will call his brother a little girl
Though in the middle of the night
He will wear the same face his mother wore
When she cocked her head back and saw
The man wearing the half undone tie she bought two Christmases ago
This man is in fact the keeper of some nuptial vows
She can still recite to this day
Expressive redux when she does a double take
And stares at the wedding ring on the hand
Still clutching the doorknob

We embrace order and schedules
But we need that spontaneity
That spark
That everlasting feeling that
We aren’t just cosmic specks against
A grumpy god
Deep down we all have that felling somewhere
That sense of small
The feeling the brother gets as he
Dots his i’s and crosses his t’s
On the suicide letter
But even deeper is the tickle in the back of the skull
Felt right before the rope or belt or Christmas lights or electrical chord
Goes taut
The feeling he is wrong and with it floods the realization
Of meaning in the absence of a reset button

Sometimes I wonder where I’ll be
In five years. Such possibilities though I know I squander
Most of them. None just feel right y’know?
I don’t want to live loud though quiet is
Often too boring or given to embarrassing
Introspection. Sometimes I wonder
What it’s like to live like a shaking knee.
Impatient
Do I want to be a tombstone?
Something for people to look at
But never read
As they drive by. Infamy is till a method to fame
But will my ghost care about social considerations?
A friend to all, remembered into smiles bittersweet
With an empty longing
Live in the now, an out of tune G-chord with a broken pick
Applause not because you like the music but
Because you know the people onstage.

She fell and broke her hip
Though that’s not what killed her
No, she fought long and hard to keep her sanity
A matriarch, the last matriarch
She never stood a chance
Through bouts of forgetfulness
She cringed as she sat
Wheelchair bound
Rolling with a fool’s smile
Talking nonsense like Nero must have
Playing his fiddle
Our family burned up but she never knew

After a great while the paper elephants march
In their sparse herd they lumber along
One by one, their thick legs slam into the earth
Like pennies on a timpani
Leaving slight imprints in the dust

No one is quite sure where they come from
All we know is they just are there
Some raise their children before witnessing the elephants
A lucky few will even see them a second time at the end of their lives
It is not uncommon for generations to pass without the paper elephants
Sometime the periods between their journeys are so long the elephants are dissolved into folktale

The paper elephants are bestowed an almost supernatural quality
The stories are birthed in secrecy between the lights of candles
In the ears of the men in the corner
From the hushed lips whispered in acquiescence.
Every story is different
Every story has the same ending
Every story has the same moral
You do not touch the paper elephants

Perhaps the stories have some truth
If anyone knows the validity they have been dead for quite some time
No matter, man’s superstitious nature will see to the protection of the elephants

The paper elephants are called “paper elephants” because it describes them quite nicely
From a distance they look just like normal elephants
Lumbering over from side to side
But their skin is like paper
Their essence is like paper

They travel together
Even the old and young
When it rains the young hide under the larger elephants
Lest they get wet and melt into the earth
It is not uncommon to find the soaked remains of an elder elephant
Crumpled by a sad consequence
It always serves as a reminder
The old exist to protect the young

Most likely the elephants can be found roaming through our graveyards
Here their pace noticeably slows down
Often enough, they can be found sitting next to a tombstone
Resting their trunks over the epitaphs

Strange things happen when the elephants are in the graveyards
Sometimes laughter can be heard
Sometimes sobbing
As the elephants rest the blue mist rises from the graves

The blue is the most reassuring shade
The misty fog rises and fills the entire yard
Until it is absorbed by the paper elephants
With a long sigh the elephants continue their journey

After many such stops
The elephants arrive at the tree
Gnarled and ancient, it welcomes the elephants with silence
As it has for years and years past
It is here the elephants have yearned to arrive
Under the knobs and strikes of its branches
They bend the knee
The young watch to learn
The adults look up to the sky
And release all that they carry
The hopes, dream, and memories of those long gone
Ascend to the heavens
The paper elephants collapse exhausted but content
And look upon their children one last time
They weep before leaving this world
Not for their children’s sorrow
But because there are no paper elephants to carry them to the next world

Left foot walking faster than your right
With no one laying an eye on you but yourself
Razor rhetoric
The cost of your conscience
Who are you to say you are beneath god?
Cut with a stone
Blood dripping off an eyelash

On those cool summer nights
We would walk through the grass
And our feet would get wet from the dew
I know my companions
Ever faithful
Who would never leave my side
As I would never leave theirs
As we walked through the darkness
Ever resolute
Determined to accomplish our self appointed task
To spread our word
To teach others what we have discovered in these trying times
And most of all to learn from those who came before
So that we may do the same when our children come to us

Eventually we will part when we finish
And each will turn to a different corner of this world
Where we will live out the rest of our lives with what we have gained
Ever thoughtful
Always aware in the back of our minds
Of that important message
That brief quip of unadulterated human wisdom
Built up piece by piece over the years
Like adding a fresh coat of paint to a living room wall
Until it is thicker than the point where the sky meets the ocean
Ever adamant
We will count down the days until the clock strikes us
Lying in bed next to our husbands and wives
Or alone with nothing but our thoughts and fears

Someday we will meet again
After we leave all we have
Like an old photo slid between two pages of a good novel
We will have moved through our story
After we read the epilogue of our predecessors so long ago
Ever wary
Our cast has played their parts
And whether we realized it or not
So did we
We will go with a cry or a whimper
With tears streaming down our faces
Or laughter in our bellies
We will make no mistake
We will go
Ever obedient
When we realize our privilege to open our eyes
We see all those familiar faces
All the others who felt what we all feel sometime in our lives
Who saw what we must do if we are to grow into something beautiful
We will smile with hope that we did all we could
And begin to dry our feet

A flash of light with
One thousand tiny hands pounding the paneling of my door
The fireflies bow down in praise
A rush of hot breath
Dust left to fill in the gaps left behind
By the silence after the madness
And I still cut my hands
When I cover my ears

My mother and I went for a walk
On an autumn evening
Through the woods where our
Home was built
I ran off ahead
And you hid behind a tree

When I turned around you were gone
I yelled for you but saw no one
I shrieked through the tears
And you calmly stepped from nonexistence
Everything was right once more in the world
My flaky worries were old and dusty
And with a half smile you turned around
Before your hair could jump from your shoulder to your back
I happily ran up and took your hand
Forgetting about the momentous hurt placed on me
Touching me like bark on my fingertips
Reminding me of what I had learned

The end of a movie is the saddest part
The screen fades to black and you are
Left in the dark
Holding on to any meaning and warmth
You had collected while living out someone’s life
From the creation of a painfully short universe
Till its quiet end
The people in these places go about their lives
Unaware they will only continue
In the heads of others

I was laughing at a video
It felt as if a tiny flame was melting a hole
Through the cups of my ear
My torso pulsed with acidic warmth
The blood kept dripping in my ear
I lift my hand and put a finger to wipe it out
My hands were a chilly misty feeling as in spring
The top of my head wavered and hills formed over themselves
My eyes were deserts dusty and gray
My front teeth rattle with short ice
A close friend said he would never sing gain
And when he embraced this lie it was beautiful

Laying back
I stare at the mustached men
Staring down at me
They all have white hair
And blue eyes
They float on by
With half smug grins
Holding back their pride
Of their mustaches
Some have big fat ones
Some have long wispy ones
Some are bristly
Some sway in the wind
Like an old sock on a telephone pole
Their stern gaze
Judge every face they see
Once in a while
Their faces swell
And get dark and puffy
Then the mustached men cry
And shower the landscape with tears
I wonder what they see
Looking down at us
That makes them so sad

All along the beach
Tiny holes litter the sand
And inside each hole along this
Tiny strip of sand and tide
Live the tiny people

They are a simple people
Who walk swinging their tiny arms
And sometimes hold their tiny hands
So they can swing together

They love to take short walks along their holes
And leave behind a short trail of tiny footprints
They collect and dry grass
To weave tiny little hats for their tiny little heads
And go out into the water

At night they lie out on the sand and gaze up at the stars
And think about how these tiny dots
Make them seem even tinier

Their lives can be tremendous
When their tiny fires die down
They reach out
And reassure their love

Sometimes the day turns dark
And tiny drops of water fall from the ashen clouds

But for tiny people these create big floods

The dead are buried in tiny graves
And the living make even tinier drops of water
As if in a fit of irony

The wind is known to sweep away the tiny people
Like the smoke cut out of their tiny pipes

They never like to venture far from their holes

After many seasons
The tides rise far up the beach
And the tiny people are swept away

All are left are the tiny holes littering the sand
Staring at the sun as it passes over into the seas to sleep
Waiting for more tiny people to call them home

I watched a girl knock over a drunken man’s glass
Off a fence post
The highball glass didn’t wobble off
There was no instance of dull fear at the
Inability of prevention
Simply it just was on the concrete
With its shards reflecting the headlights as they passed
The tattooed drunk did not get angry
As some men are disposed to become under a similar circumstance
He muttered in a dead pan voice
-*My long island

Walking down the sidewalk I noticed
No one smiled
No hellos
Travelers with a vow of tunnel vision
As if happiness must be a private institution
Trudging to the end of their lives
Staring as if the cement was
The most remarkable shade of gray
The saddest thing
When my eyes hit the oncoming man’s forehead
He lifted his chin
And lock pupils
I looked at my shoes

Make me ugly
Touch me and let the sores sprout
And the hair fall away
Turn the dull brown of my eyes to milk
Knock aside my straight white teeth
Let the children run from my smile
I want to shatter mirrors
I want to punish eyes
People will cover their mouths in fear
And I will be the person under the beds
Of disobedient children
I will be shunned and hated
People will whisper monster under their breath
Others will ignore me entirely
And all the while no one will ever know
What kind of person is behind this face

I feel sorry for the homeless man by the dumpster

He must get so cold during the winter

I feel sorry for the single mother with her two children

She must want the best for her kids but will never have the chance

I feel sorry for the starving child on the television

I wonder if he will understand why he has to be hungry

I feel sorry for the people who hurt others

Almost as badly as the people they mistreat

I feel sorry for those who live their lives only by God

Will they ever get the chance to live their own lives

I feel sorry for those chroniclers of the lives of celebrities

They would give their life to have that attention

I feel sorry for the narrow-minded bigot

Where will their place be when acceptance takes root

I feel sorry for the children pageant contestants

Mothers living through their child what they could never be

I feel sorry for those who judge others at first glance

Even though I do the same thing

I feel sorry for the suicidal

They can’t see what beauty is left in the world

I feel sorry for the unwanted old man

He never wanted to be a burden to his children

I feel sorry for the handicapped

Even if they don’t need our help

I feel sorry for the crying alcoholic

I hope they have good reasons

I feel sorry

But I don’t want anyone to feel sorry for me

Bare feet slap down the pavement
In the distance a car alarm goes off
A cacophony of smells reminds me others live here too
Dinner cooking
Evergreen trees
Raw garbage
An old stray cries out
You can almost hear her ribs creaking
I should smell the tobacco of the cigarette between my pointer and middle fingers
But I’ve smoked so many I’ve forgotten what they smell like
The beer in my other hand tastes flat but that’s alright
Next door I can hear laughing
A deep laugh
The kind that melts through the ears and sticks to your ribs
A sudden breeze blows my hair out of my face
When it leaves each strand falls back on to my forehead
Like fingers drumming on a coffee table
I inhale as deep as I can
I open my eyes and all that beauty is broken

Was there a need for your creation
Were your values put on sale
Who put together the pieces
And told you your actions were sins
Did you commit them for sins’ sake
Or were the sins committing all along

Who told you you could dream
The secret world before creation
Before time took its footsteps
Judgment never held happiness by the ears
And the stars were flickering before sight
Light still slept underneath space

Were you given the right to happiness
Does what makes you happy take from others
Are you living proof of an equality
How are you sure of friendships
Or love for that matter
If no one else feels how do you now of its existence
A comparison of scars and tears in cupped hands
Sweetened with smiles and good intentions

Standing tall and alone gazing up
Until a closed hand brings you down
The concern wrapped in a whisper sits
And on your knees you embrace
With the release you talk to the dirt
And draw in the mud with your fingers
It’s so hard to clean under the fingernails
The bubbles in the sink look so bright
What was there before the great command

Never truly forgettable
You were a memory I could put in a box
And let the dust build over the cardboard *****
The kind of importance
That could be left behind
Like a stuffed animal on the playground
The sight lingers behind the eyes
And is drawn forth by water
Sentimental values petrified into stone
And held tightly by the heart
Occasionally it squirms up the throat
And is cast back down with a shallow laugh
Everyday transposition brought forth onto daily life
Not quite convinced it was ever forgotten in the first place
Still waiting for the voice to melt away the rock
Dripping from the center it flows through my fingers
And I curse as I try to remember
Why I put it there in the first place

Tracing our lifeline on your back
Through every crossroad and shoulder blade
Over every vertebrae under the gray sky
One step over the edge of the world
To where the sighs and whispers fall
Where the grass is fed by our salty tears
And gods hum and ignore their tiny worshipers
Climbing up the brown branches of your hair
To meet your head in the clouds
They will see the finger pointing down
And jump off like a leaf in autumn
Snatched in the air by your hand
They can find out who they were and will be
As they rest their heads on your palm
When they wake up their masks will be gone
And they will smile

She called again
Drunk as usual
Sobbing into the receiver about her dreams
And happier times left long ago
How her steps forward have been in the wrong direction
And her heart is broken in two
She takes another gulp
Her sweet tears mixed with the alcohol
Time is not making this any easier for me
No matter what I still love the man I hate so much
She called because she needed a friend
She never asked too much from me
She fell so hard but never had the novelty of rising high above
After she calms down she tells me everything will be all right
As if I was the one needing convincing
With a small sigh of relief she hangs up
Leaving me confused on the other end
Unsure if I should have told her
It may have been largely her fault

Hands clasp
Eyes meet
Pearly smile
Hearts lift

Feet walk
Mouths laugh
Lips meet
Hearts beat

Knees bent
Box opens
Lungs gasp
Hearts sing

Vows said
Rings given
Smiles cry
Hearts kiss

Dreams had
Babies born
Love supports
Hearts live

Kids grow
Homes change
Seasons change
Hearts persevere

Lives lived
Bodies age
Love lasts
Hearts stop

I will dig myself a dream
Something I can only see
Down deep in the Earth

I will grasp its rough edges
Smooth its grittiness
With my bare hands

I will read it and learn from it
Grab and pull out
The potential

Or else I will
Step down and lie with it
And let it consume me

Filling my cup
I take a long sip
And see what I have planned for me

Embraced loved cherished
It needs me to stay alive
As I need it to truly live

Take your medication
Do as you’re told
Swallow the pills with
A cascade of water and
Watch your money fill
Our satin lined pickets
So heavy our belts snap
Our trousers fall
And the world can see the
Tattoo of your face on our *****
And the funniest thing is
All you needed was a good laugh

Younger cried out
Older laughed like a *******
Mother scowled
Father furrowed his brow
And the Earth turned

A violent whirl
For a girl
Puking up butterflies
Holding moist hands
And getting punched in the brain
When lips meet

My mother used to tell me not to cry
She told me to save my tears for
Something that was worth crying for
Something that mattered
Like her funeral

I wonder how
God feels looking down at us
Knowing none of us can be like him
Knowing he will never be like us

I think he must have been so sad
Sitting there for so long in the dark
With just the whispers in silence to keep him company

So he threw us from the dirt
And created joy, smiles, warmth, and love
So he could see what it was like to be happy
But created sorrow, bitterness, fear, and frustration
So we could feel what it was to be like him

He looked down with a smile
And tears began to fall
And he wept like thunder
As he thought about his life’s biggest mystery

*How could I feel so alone?

I need something so different
Oh god something new
I want so badly to see the sunrise
Tomorrow
A new start
My failures today won’t harm me no more
I’m stronger than this
I won’t let this take me down
A change of pace
A new picture to look at
A new mantra to replace the one that
Means nothing more than the load of crap
It became
My anger is filling the cracks
And making new ones as it comes around
Wrapping around my forehead
And soothing my misgivings
I want my ideals to be me
Instead of me being my ideals
Please let me change

Remember these smiles?
Those happier days when we could
Innocently think that these days
Were the best of our lives?
Nothing could happen to us
We were the strongest
Our fathers knew nothing of our struggle
Our mothers sang nothing of our trials
Nothing could touch us
We were flawless
Then we dropped from heaven
Ground into the dirt and blood
Salty tears and cries for our mothers
To clean up our messes and tend to
Our rugburns and scratches
No kiss could fix
And that scared the hell out of us
We saw what the real world was like
Our parents tried to shelter us from
The empty Starbucks coffee cups and reality television shows
And what we saw brought tears to our eyes
And a song to our lips
We want so much more
We need so much more

Remember when we’d slowly grow up sitting on those steps?
Your mother used to come out with cold lemonade on those hot days
And you’d pass me a slice of watermelon.
I’d smile that stupid grin of mine
Complete with missing front teeth.
God those days were so hot.
Sometimes as if answering a child’s whimper
The Rain would just start pouring
And I’d be too proud to dance like an idiot.
But not you.
You’d splash with the gusto and laughter
Of nostalgia in the smile of a photograph.
You would call me over to join you in the puddles
But I’d shake my head.
I don’t want to get wet I’d scoff
And my cheeks would turn strawberry.
Your look of disappointment would turn to a playful smirk
And I would swallow my embarrassment.
You never meant me any harm.
My face glowed crimson and embarrassment turned to shame.

The air started to get cool
And the leaves on the trees became lazy.
We’d collect them.
They were nothing short of arboreal rubies.
The yellow oaks always caught your eye.
They were my favourite too.
My dad yells down the street
In a voice gruff like his bristly chin.
He was outwardly rough
But in truth he was a very sweet man.
Though you wouldn’t know it from my bruises.
I always thought he did it because he missed mom.
She was put in a box in the dirt a week after I was born
So I never knew how her voice sounded when she sang in her studio
Painting the yellow leaves we preciously held.

Halloween would come and we would run with the others from the neighbourhood.
Our faces painted like eggshells.
And we’d dance those secret incantations that only we knew
Passed down from generation to generation from our brothers and sisters.
As we’d go door to door on our quest for sugar
We would always fall behind from the rest.
You would grab my hand with a hearty
-Come on!
When we finally found our fellow ne’er-do-wells
You smiled at me though you were out of breath.
Even though it was dark out
I could still tell your eyes were brown.

Our first dance was in high school.
And just like you
You jumped the gun
And asked me if I would take you.
When I opened my mouth I swear I vomited butterflies.
I was so nervous the entire day preparing.
The process of looking presentable became unbearable.
I pulled up to your house only five houses from my own
(It was unthinkable to make you walk to my car)
When your mother came out
Which couldn’t be a good sign.

Walking along this beaten path
All the fallen leaves resemble a wet tongue of
Oranges red browns
And in the crisp air a bird chirps with recognition
All of his friends flew away for the winter
He makes the best of it
The sun is shining with a cold pink behind the trees
It's falling
My breath is all cloudy and mist
The day is dying but that's alright
It'll come back tomorrow
Like my own personal Jesus Christ
The tale of my life
The ink writing that story
Is its own miracle
I write the next chapter
Like turning water into wine

Sometimes I feel like my life is a movie
And I'm not the main character
Everyone is watching with anticipation
Waiting for the next scene
Or is it predictable?
Do they focus on me or everyone else?
I like to think I'm important
I mean the title is my namesake

The falling snow the uncomfortable cold
Time slowing down to a limp
And in this monochromatic landscape
Even souls are forced to face each other
And smile a mirror grin in the midst of a divorce
Fresh powder and gray skies falling around
Like the ivory and ebony of a baby grand
Careening to the ground with
Resolution
Determination
Desperation
And when it hits it will sound like good ideas that no one will speak
Tears freeze on the way down
They feel like tiny pinpricks
Like the little feet of insects who without mind or reason
Go about their days in bliss and without trepidation

In this place we can only follow those before us
The neat craters flattened out by heavy boots
Line the path in a one-two fashion
Marching along and over the backs of the ones who gave up
Thinking they are farther than anyone of us could be
And something as simple as an offered hand
Would melt the ice and snow.

Take a look at all of you down there
So sure of yourselves
So full of the hustle-bustle of life itself
Never stopping to see what could be
Potentially the greatest things of your lives
Jutting through the stream like hot knives
No all simply let life pass them by
Not seeing all the things
Looking you in the eye
And will watch even when you lie asleep
For the final time
You all think you’re hot ****
All hit and no miss
No questions
All answers
Obsess with self worth
Convinced that you’re dust with a value
Just because a god you’re not even sure exists told you so
When the urge to **** is gone
What’s the difference between you and the dirt you walk on
You all rise and fall like the waves in the oceans
Like a glissando of smoker coughs
New ideas are thrown against the scoffs and scrutiny
Of those obstinate practitioners of organized ignorance
You are the only one who should impose sanction on your life
Not some pretty news anchor
Who nods at the teleprompter with total belief
You all chase after superficiality like a poor animal
At the snap of some fat fingers
Call yourselves Pavlov’s pet
You fattened the hand that feeds you yourselves
Have you met the total of life’s offer
Have you looked at yourself in the mirror
And not seen cheap narcissism winking back
Self-imposed limits are acceptable to live by
A moratorium of thought is not
You have free speech
Now learn free thought
Explain the intricacies of a fast food drive through
To the children of Darfur
Explain how you didn’t want to learn how to finish your schoolwork
To the little girl who can’t afford to buy pencils for hers
She will tell you with chagrin how she aspires to be a writer and a poet
But can’t afford the books to help her help herself
You express yourself by exerting as little effort
While she isn’t able to put in the effort to express herself
It’s the ultimate irony
Religion ceased to be the ****** of the masses
When it got it reached one-million views
You all can ask where do I get off
And I will only smile and tell you how I am just like you
I watch the same TV
Eat the same food
Wear the same clothes
The only difference is you can be different
And by simply choosing to do so or not is a step in the right direction
You are your own Atlas
Carry your own world
Anyone else is just liable to drop it

It’s hard to say when it exactly happened.                        Man, what a boring day. Sitting here for at

There she was minding her own business                         least twenty minutes and she still hasn’t

and here I am foolishly falling in love with                        shown up. I’m starving too. At least the

her. It’s tough to say what really appealed                        weather’s nice here. The leaves are finally

to me about her. She just had a sort of                        changing and it looks like it might rain.

quality about her, just sitting on that                         Poetic. Prime people watching weather.

bench in a nonchalant fashion. Maybe her                        All of them going about their lives, for the

apathy appealed to me. Wouldn’t that be                         most part unconcerned with each other.

ironic, a lack of interest striking my own.                        It’s hard to not feel lonely when people

No, no, it had to be something else.                          prefer Facebook to real conversation.

I had the pleasure of watching her as I                         No body seems to be taking the sidewalk I

walked pass the bench. She seemed                         took today. Everyone’s just ambling along

content to just sit there waiting for                         the path along the street. There’s little

something. Maybe she was waiting for a                         traffic today too. It’s hard to make out

friend to meet her there or perhaps she                         anyone at this distance. There’s just one

was tired and wanted to take a quick rest.              boy walking past. He’s pretty average

She didn’t look at me directly, much to my             looking, nothing special really. Still I’d

disappointed relief. She was certainly                         take that over your typical Abercrombie

pretty. Not a model of perfection by the                         Frat-boy any day, though I’m pretty sure

social standard, but social opinion *****.                         they think the same for me. To hell with

She wasn’t bound by such superficialities                         them. He has dark brown hair, but it looks          

as social vanity. I wish more people were                         almost jet black with the rain clouds in

so. Her eyes were dark blue though they                         the sky. I wonder where he’s going. He

looked a tad gray on this cloudy day. It                         doesn’t seem to be in much of a hurry.

looked like it might rain.                                                Maybe he doesn’t care about getting wet.

She had brown hair cut shorter than most             He just pasts me and I really got a good

and her clothes didn’t look like they came                         look at him without looking. A plaid

from a mall. Blue jeans and brown boots                         button up with blue jeans. Carrying a

too. Not bad, not bad at all. She had a bag                         brown backpack, most likely filled with

with her, which was set down right beside             texts and other class stuff. He stops to

her. She was checking her phone and I’m                         check his phone. Maybe his girlfriend

walking past burping up butterflies. I                         texted him or his mom’s seeing how he’s

walked past her like a sleepy morning                         doing. I’d say he’s a sophomore but he

before Sunday church and stopped. I                         could be older. Judging from his look I’d

pulled out my phone, can’t have me                         say no one important. Two more

looking too awkward just standing there,                         freshmen loudly walk on by talking about

and pretended to check my text messages                         how much they hate some class they’re in.

as a pair of freshmen walked by. I had to                         Mmm, there’s my friend walking down

at least verbally confirm my existence to                         the street. Now I can finally go get some

her. I put my phone away and did a quick                         food. That boy is still texting; maybe it is

about haste.                                                           ­             his girlfriend. Too bad

She was gone.                                                            ­            He was cute

The sky is dark tonight on this hill
The sun has gone
And set into the Earth
Wind and cold and quiet
I feel like I could reach out and grab the stars
And maybe just maybe know
You're watching your darling boy grow
Into the brave young man you saw at the hospital
On that cool Autumn morning
Surrounded by white and the smell of chemicals
It's too bad I couldn't give you life too
No no instead all I could do is watch
Just you and your box and the dirt
Me in my black and tears and snot
They put you back into the Earth
And covered it with a stone
Though I don't know what it says yet
But I'm learning and growing
Just as you told me to
Before you went into the black sky
Before I waited in futile anxiety
Looking at the bright moon
Looking for the stars
Looking for the wrinkles in God's face

Mother see the stars tonight
I wish you could sit right here and hold me tight
And sing to me to sleep like you used to do

-*You are my sunshine

I played on a swing set today. It had to be the first time since I was twelve.  I didn’t even mean to, by that I mean it was an accidental event. Well, I mean I don’t want to say it was fate or something, it just sort of happened. Like when you hear a story of how two high-school sweet hearts meeting for the first time except it’s doubtful that you can achieve the same level of satisfaction from a pair of cold metal chains connected to a polyurethane seat. Well maybe, but you most likely would have to be sick in the head or something. I’m getting off track.

I was waiting for my friends in the park. They were running late so I had about a half an hour to ****. I noticed the old rusty rundown swing set, and I wanted somewhere to sit for a second. I was listening to some music, something by Modest Mouse I think, and I noticed, and I mean really noticed, I was on a swing set. It was nothing special by swing standards. It was old, that was a fact. It only had two swings left: one made for kids younger than three and the other for everyone else. Unfortunately I’m twenty.

Things started off slowly. A slow, steady rocking then I was swinging about a foot back and forth. I couldn’t help but wonder when was the last time I swung. So I thought, what the hell, I’m not doing anything too pressing. I kicked off and started pumping my swing.  I don’t often experience a sort of tangible nostalgia but I sure love it when I do. I was splashed in the face with times throughout my childhood, if you could call what I had that, when we would try to swing as high as we could. Of course we didn’t know about the limits of gravity and universal laws yet, we hadn’t quite hit that brick wall just yet. But that’s what made it so much fun; our ignorance of what governs our physical world made it that much better. Had we known what was to come back then, we just might have told Newton where he could stick that apple.

So using my previous knowledge of kindergarten physics, I was swinging like a pro in no time. It was exhilarating. I closed my eyes and lived in motion. Each swing was like the ****** of a rollercoaster. Colours streamed across the dark sky under my eyelids. I saw blues and purples like Day-Glo brush strokes. Sometimes they exploded with brilliant oranges and yellows. I removed my ability to see for just a moment and saw my own personal firework display.

I remember when I first learned how to swing. It was during recess one day at kindergarten. Everyone knew how but me. Imagine how that plays with an ego. I’m not sure how I exactly learned either. I just sat on the swing set on the playground and just swung. Kind of like how a duckling has the intrinsic knowledge of swimming. I swung for the rest of recess. I felt like a god. I was the master.

I stopped moving and rode the pendulum out. When it all stopped I opened my eyes and welcomed myself back to reality. Back to gravity. Back to responsibility. Back to life. It’s funny, for just a second, I stepped out of my life and truly lived. But back here, with my feet planted in the sand, I still remember my first swing. I remember the feeling, the achievement. It’s for that feeling we fight in this world.

We all are just learning how to swing.

You stir in your sleep
Sounds like fingertips on the piano
I’ve always wondered where you are in your sleep
But you never say
Just once you could take my hand
And we could sit on the windowsill
Our legs dangling poised jumping
Ready to tackle your dreams together
Lie on the grass in the middle of the night
And swim in the fresh dew
Look at the stars and feel how small we are
Then laugh
Smiling at the moon
Whistling the arriving daylight
Listening to old dusty records
While drinking coffee poured from the night sky
And you awake with a muffled hello
Bed head and bed breath
The dog jumps up and lies in between us
He knows he’s not allowed but we bend the rules just this once
I romp out of bed and roll to the shower
Dressing in my symbols of conformity
While you play mirror and straighten my necktie
You lean on the door frame and watch me drive away
We both know I’m just a writer at heart
We both know I hate my job
We both know I would love nothing more than to pick up guitar
And write you love letters while you watch
But sadly stationary doesn’t fall from the sky
And ink won’t flow from my pen forever
So I dream like you do in that secret place of yours
I dream

When you were young you were the King
The Woman King
And what a reign you had
Anything you wanted
You would pluck
Like an apple off a tree
And run it like rubies through your fingers
Their tears would beat them to the floor
Always a step ahead of your subjects
And two ahead of your rivals
Your throne could not be contested
A god to some
A devil to others
You thought of this as a game
The rules your own
Your life the wager
But with reward came risk
And a good King can spin risks into royalty
Everything in the world and you still wanted more
You needed more
You needed your Queen
But the Queen did not need you
She saw the rules
She understood the game
And you never thought two could play it
You never even put up your guard
And she had you on your knees
Crying to stop and begging for more
You offered her what you valued most
Your throne
And the Queen sat on your bruised back and smiled
*-I already have a throne

[a tired greeting]

-Hello, Mr. Douglass?

[a concerned response]

-Mr. Douglass, I…

[a question on well-being]

-Well, yes… yes Mr. Douglass that’s…that’s actually why I’m calling.

[an impatient plea]

-Mr. Douglass, please understand, there is absolutely no easy way for me to say…

[…]

-We’ve done everything we could do, Mr. Douglass, everything. Some things… some things just aren’t meant to be.

[a painful cry]

[a curse to God]

[a question to reality]

-Mr. Douglass, at the rate it spread… it was just too much. Mr. Douglass, frankly I am surprised she lasted as long as she did, but she was exactly what you said, a fighter until the end…

[a sob]

-Mr. Douglass, I…

[a wish to give up]

-Please don’t say that Mr. Douglass…

[a lost value in life]

-I know, I know… Mr. Douglass, you must realize this isn’t any easier for me either.

[how to rediscover that value]

-I’ll tell you what you have to live for Mr. Douglass. You have a son and daughter. Do you think orphaning your children is what she’d want? If you can’t do it for them, do it for her.

[love’s anger]

[a plea to end]

-…and what Mr. Douglass? Are you going to so quickly deliver yourself to the very thing she suffered for so long to avoid? You would become a monument of contempt for her struggle.

[life versus death]

-And she wanted to live Mr. Douglass… I'm sure she'd wish the same for you.

[hurried walking]

[incoherent mutterings]

[glass breaking]

-Please Mr. Douglass, please, calm down. It would be best if your children didn’t hear…

[fate’s morality]

-I know it is not fair Mr. Douglass. If there’s anything I’ve learned in my forty-six years at this institution it’s life is anything but fair. We were born by the grace of God. Unfortunately, he is an Indian giver…

[the impossibility to endure]

-It is times like this where all we can do is weep.

[the click of the chamber]

-No Mr. Douglass! Don’t do it!

[a quiet sob]

[teeth on metal]

-Wait Mr. Douglass, please! Her last request! At least let me fulfill her last request!

[jarring silence]

-She… she wanted you to hear her last words…

[falling tears]

-Mr. Douglass… she said,

please… please tell him… no matter what happens… no  matter… I will
always be there for him…

[gentle crying]

[…]

-Mr. Douglass? Mr. Douglass, are you there?

[…]

-Mr. Douglass!?!

[a smile]

When we walked up to the door of our favourite coffee pub
You tangled your fingers around my own
And with a twist of my wrist
We went in

We order our usual from the usuals
The baristas never changed though the drinks did with the seasons
As I pull out the exact change from my coat
You shake some melted snow from your hair

We grab a seat at a nook by the window
There was a ring of dried coffee on the table
I fill it in with my mug
You joke it’s my OCD but I say it’s my love for the unappreciated

We listen to a woman with a guitar at the makeshift stage
She strums off a couple chords and sings with her lips
She fades into the background as I turn to look at you
Your eyes are closed to turn up the volume

I close mine too and let the music direct me
My mind swims like a trapeze *******
I sway with the strings and strums
Your hand grasps mine as I fall into the safety net

The guitarist is packing up
Our coffee or what’s left of it is cold
You lean over and
Two angels kissed like sinners
Two sinners kissed like angels

We would run over the leaves and through the wood
Along the river listening to the cicadas buzzing
Branches jump up and grab us by the ankles
They cut like a razor as if the blood was a necessity
Brother cries out
This is the first time we were betrayed by something we loved
We trudge back with the sullen look carried by defeated children
Baby milk tears and red lines down our knees
Sitting on the porch wiping the salty water out of our eyes
Our bravery is all we could offer ourselves

Mother rushes out
A look of silent fury and a moment’s worry
Watches her sons and what they have done
A second of love’s anger only a mother could offer
Chuckles to herself as she kneels down to the children’s world
Her warmth on our bodies
Her touch on our idle tears
We are reminded of what it means to be alive again
A kiss on the forehead to both of us as she wipes away
The clean streaks off the dirt on our cheeks

-All better

The sky splashes with somber reds with the setting sun
Stars shine on with their life’s work
The moon keeps time as they flow into something beautiful
Green dots of fireflies join into the chorus in the backyard
Brother and I gather some jars
We want to record this music
Mother fusses with disapproval
We tell her not to worry
We have each other

Autumn sets down
Like a mother’s hand on her sleeping child
The leaves are starting to fall
Even trees get tired I suppose
The air gets cooler
The forest trails are littered with fallen leaves
Yellows reds browns
They jump off with commitment
Like a mass suicide
With the promise of coming back next year
You could learn a lot from their finality

A nice hot cup of tea
It’s too hot so it sits on the windowpane to cool
Daydreaming through the glass was always a hobby of mine
Shake them out before the tea gets cold
The first sip always hesitant
Let’s let the teabag steep more
It’s cloudy today but that isn’t surprising for this time of year
It looks like it might rain

Lying on the bed looking out the window
The sky looks like a tired old man
The falling light cuts more wrinkles across his face
The tree in the yard sees this too
Nearly all its leaves are gone
Leaving this world without a goodbye
Watching the wind blow
It pushes the last one off the branch
Sends it down with a blessing
Slowly tumbles down to Earth to join the rest
The tree stands naked now and yawns
I embrace this and listen
It’s getting dark
I yawn too and reach over to turn off the light

She said she was finished.
She just couldn’t take any more of this.
I was going nowhere and she was falling with me.
I wasn’t the same person she met long ago.
She said that person died and her life was the funeral.

She gathered her things.
To be honest I thought this was just a dream.
A bad dream, but reality ran her fingers down my back.
Dreams never hurt this badly.
It wouldn’t be wrong to say I was bleeding.

My thoughts poured out onto my floor.
Flushed from my head.
My tongue rowed against the current, but I couldn’t convince her to stay.
I don’t think God himself could’ve done that.
But to be fair, what have I ever done for him?

She screamed some more, just made more noise at me.
I just sat on the mattress, a place we used to share in times of friendship and then love.
Watched the tear drip to the floor on to the rug.
The rug was a strange colour, something between Frootloops and *****.
It’s even stranger how one notices these things at times like this.

She called herself a fool and me something far more hateful.
She cursed me, stomped me flat out, I was gasping for air.
I begged for her to see me through to the end, I would do the same for her.
She looked up, her mascara was running and she was silent.
The broken glass from the picture frame she threw said it all.

She finally finished packing her things.
It took a small eternity for her to stuff the small luggage.
She grabbed her coat and started to put it on.
She pulled her arms through the sleeves.
The sound of it reminded me of gunfire.

It’s funny how time flies when you’re having fun but misery will drag it on for years.
The world seems to be built on ironies like this.
It almost makes me believe God has a sense of humour.
I cried as I heard the punchline.
Too bad it wasn’t “haha” funny.

It was finally quiet, well, except for the pounding of my heart.
I got up and walked to the window to watch.
She turned and faced me for the last time.
Her ruined makeup, hair was a mess.
What have I done.

She calls from across town
And drags me out of my thoughts
Cleans them up for me
My mind is a gutter
Wipes away the self loathing
With nothing more than her voice
Fingertip's touch feels like lightning
Traces a Mona Lisa on my back
-I can’t take much more of this. You’re too good for me.
Her line of sight makes me feel like and uninvited guest
A crinkled forehead snaps me back
-Your good is for me.
Lips part
Her singing flows over my ears
I sing with her
The harmony is beautiful