The allure of hanging
Like an old-timey suit
Is just that.
Poetry for the waste-bin,
Ready for the Goodwill.
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The allure of hanging
Like an old-timey suit
Is just that.
Poetry for the waste-bin,
Ready for the Goodwill.
Some days I make it a point
to be noticed by the guy in the muscle car.
I reach my arm out the window
with my camera in hand and snap a picture.
I do this to make him feel good.
I don’t very much care for muscle cars though.
That’s the kind of nice I am.
The Raven waits
My answer’s no
Then leaves me with
His knowledge
One day
When ready
I’ll tell you a story.
A story of a boy
Who never stopped running.
I’m just not ready
To break your heart.
What I’ve learned over time
Through my own self sacrifice
Is simple, and it’s this:
Admitting when to say no
is just as important as
knowing when to say yes.
Nothing feels good tonight.
Nothing sits well.
Nothing but myself and beer
to drown away my very American illusion
of happiness—my dear, I’m not sorry.
Please understand.
When I found her like
a set of lost keys,
it was a mystery even to her
where she’d been hiding
or who left her there—but
I knew that look, as I’d worn once—
and it wasn’t me anymore.
So I let her sleep.
And I let her eat.
Then after her strength regained,
I walked her to the wood,
and watched her twirl with the wind—
of all that remained,
and all she’d forgotten—
like a dizzy spell I’d soon be too.
Silence falls like snowflakes
Covering the field
Where birds like statues watch
My huckleberry heels
With frost left underfoot
The hallow ground revealed
Where doe tread light as feather
And sun spill bleeds me home
What I’ll never have answers for
Happened in the split of a second
And broke me for a lifetime in two
I can pick up the pieces sometimes
Mostly I have the strength, except
These other sometimes when
It all comes pouring out, when words
Make sense just enough to suffer again
A little less each time, though time
Time is often wearing me veil thin—
Like a dusting of snow covers ice—
I’m that unsuspecting victim
Trudging through a never ending dreamscape
Sidestepping, cautious through life
There’s always a story to tell.
Always,
A story…
To tell—