I keep wondering
whether it’s
right or wrong
but I keep coming back to
the fact that
it is what it is
and that’s it?
That’s it,
I keep wondering.
I keep wondering
whether it’s
right or wrong
but I keep coming back to
the fact that
it is what it is
and that’s it?
That’s it,
I keep wondering.
It sucks
it’s burnt
it’s hard to swallow.
I chew the fat
then choke down
bile.
For now
mouthfuls
of blood and oil.
As I spit flesh
it stinks
of sorrow.
A few more bites
just choke
and swallow.
For what it’s worth
we shot to kill
and did.
I never stood a chance in the landscape of her eyes
that green mountain range overlooking cloudy skies
but I walked a long while to get to where I’ve been
and I’ll walk a little longer regardless of the wind.
Is it better to escape like a dove into the light
or give into the darkness which creeps in from the night?
There’s something in the hills, either way I’m headed down
as I stream into the valley, with the current I am now
free from all the heartache, I barely make a sound
with the roots of the sequoia among the ancient ground.
two vessels lay
like the dead
watching dust
disappear
off the ceiling fan
There must be something better
than living in this state
like a free floating feather
I must be on my way
it just took me some time
like Jenny on the run
through city lights, a heroine
to forest I have come
to recognize the stars
on a boat far out at sea
floating through the sky
my legs have taken leave,
and behind all of the people
I’ve passed along the way
is a shining light, a ray of hope
a beacon to this day.
Heavy rain
overhead,
fisherman stories
with Jack
and friends,
an easy night
to ease
our heads,
seasick sailors
landlocked
again.
Take a sip
than another
it’s only tonic
mixed with water
a virgin spirit
just like you ordered
so take your time
and stew, you’re
reinventing you.
Today
it seems
your world is crumbling
tomorrow
is your chance
to start to rebuild.
I breathe his breath
his air is mine
so when I cry
his tears remind
me how to love
and where to find
the strength to heal
one day at a time.
there will always be
enough hands
to lift a boulder
or make a mess
but may there never be
enough, hands of men
to gently raise
a child