Hurt people
Hurt people
And the majesty
Of this tragedy
Is the precious
Knowledge of
Our own
Self Destruction

I feel older lately
composed of more failures
and fractures than successes
all the mistakes dotted
together like constellations

we become acutely aware
of our own existence
when it’s too late to go back
and there’s nothing left
but what’s ahead

all to say that time
is our one and only
common denominator
a heavy lesson to learn
willingly or otherwise

I carry my bags beneath
my no longer baby blues,
partly framed
and closer to grey

The bags darken with their weight
and they unwittingly pull
the eye down
from the splayed crows feet

I carry my bags

this is a poor mans heaven
rooms lit by a golden glow
as the sun shines for a moment
to illuminate it's kingdom
before dipping behind a horizon
where only memories can light
the way to a promised land
it is fleeting moments like this
that feed my soul and elevate me
spiritually to a kind of epiphany
the same sun man has worshipped
since his beginning of time

Swim like fish
test the shallows
go deep
if the water suits you
stay over
fall asleep.

Of autumn
there is not much to say
brown leaves fall
in healthy decay
white leaks on heads I say
embrace the old
salute the fall
rake the rust
dress for frost
and prepare the coals.

I could make it seem like such toil
And claim I bleed for my poetry
But it is not at all work
It is a joy for me
Elation of creation
And then I set it free
But I can’t really let it go
It’s still a part of me