When I was a kid—after bedtime—as quietly as I could, I would crawl from my bed, onto the floor, then elbow and knee my way down the hallway to lay in the doorway of my brothers room…

When I was a kid—after bedtime—as quietly as I could, I would crawl from my bed, onto the floor, then elbow and knee my way down the hallway to lay in the doorway of my brothers room to watch his television.

He’s four years older than I am and, well, I thought he was really cool.

One, for having a TV in his bedroom. And two, for probably knowing I was there but not saying anything.

Whatever he was watching didn’t really make a difference but it was comfortable there, on the carpet, with the blue light flashing.

A dark bedroom can be pretty scary to a child, especially during a thunderstorm.

Now that we’re older, we speak when it is necessary, but not all the time.

Probably less than either of us cares to admit.

He’s a busy working husband and parent while I’m pretty much all over the map.

Though when we do talk, it’s a meaningful talk of mutual reflection. He provides me with information from four years down the line and I remind him that I’m listening by offering whatever small insights are on my mind.

I thought he was great then and I still do now. No matter the distance the bond between two brothers is strong and unwavering.

Basically what I am saying is I look forward to the next time we’re able to watch a little TV, crack a couple jokes, and just hang out—without any pressure—even if it means the carpet or floor, that’ll be enough.

The Sweatpants King And His Little Brother

My fragile mind

It’s hard sometimes to go outside

So I wear this hat, it makes me feel cool

It’s hard sometimes to pass the time

So I write these prose inside my fragile mind

No they’re not for you

No they’re not for you

No they’re not for you

They’re for me

Like an eggshell cracks so do I

What spills out is just membrane and time

I know we’re all the same, you and I

This was just another from my fragile mind

No they’re not for you

No they’re not for you

No they’re not for you

They’re for me

the bridge to Angel Valley

I set my intention

crossed the bridge to Angel Valley

unknowing of what was to come

but fully away of what I was leaving behind

I stood grounded, cool and calm

released of all tension

as if a lifetime had come undone.

It’s there I let go

of all those old ways of being

shed that snake skin feeling

and came back from beyond the pine

into that crystalline light

of my own healing.