The palm trees sounded like palm trees
and the sun was in his eyes,
there really wasn’t all that much else to say.
So he kept reading his book about nothing
and fiddled with his silly poem’s,
until the sun dipped behind the rooftop.
With sleep in her eyes, she lifted her head, and said,
it was a good day…and he agreed.
It was a good day.
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I’ll be a mourning dove
Every thought is vital, so while I find myself
on the verge of another vital breakdown,
at least this time I’m in control,
creatively speaking,
so that’s got to count for something.
If not, I’ll be pushing daisies by morning,
or at least I’ll be a mourning dove, lying in their virtue.
To taste a little death
To taste
a little
death
once in a while
is essential
really,
for it gives
us
the hunger
to live
again.
It
doesn’t always
taste that good
death, in fact
it tastes
pretty sour
most times,
but if a pucker
is worth
a thousand lives
I’ll save mine
for you, if you’ll
save a bite for mine.
more or less.
How long does it take to change?
A second
A minute
An hour
A day
A week
Two weeks
A month
Or six?
A year
A decade
A year
Or six
A month
Two weeks
A week
A day
An hour
A minute?
A second.
It takes as much time as it does to stay put,
more or less.
the scenic route!
People always look confused when they ask what I am doing. So I look confused back, smiling, and say, I’m taking the scenic route!
People are more like their God than they think, always looking down at everyone else, wondering what it’s like to live.
I’ll pray for you, they say sometimes. Creation is a messy thing. What’s the difference between prayer and prey?
For now, I guess I’ll be their prey to tell the difference. And when my time comes, confused I will not look, knowing I’ve seen the light.
A light which does not shine but rather illuminates the lonesome weathered Rockies, or Cutlers bountiful Coast, and all those miles of wheat fields traveled upon a harvest moon.
Phases of the moon
The sun is up again
as if to say,
I told you so dummy!
It is I, not the moon
whom shines its rays.
And wouldn’t you know
the moon stood still,
I’ll tell you a secret,
he said. We work best
together, my phases and all
are just too much for her
sometimes. So I’ve settled
for shadow puppets. Look!
Our love it is there,
on the dark side.
a deer in headlights
Some days
staring into space
is all
a boy can do.
Like a deer in headlights
an accident waiting to happen.
Others
the act
is a blinding
waste of time.
The difference is clear as night.
It can go either way.
Daylight Savings Time
I wake up
to find
that time
has taken
yet another hour
and flushed it down
the toilet bowl
of my soiled mind.
They call it
Daylight Savings Time.
But I wonder
if I
could take back
that erased hour
and place it in my pocket,
with all the other shit
I’ve saved — little secrets
I’m unwilling to admit.
Could they work together
to create, a fiction
to explain
your love, my love, our love(s) erased,
replaced in picture frame.
And throw them up, unrecognized
into the evening sky.
Where there is loss, there too is light
like Daylight Savings Time.
you need you
Nobody
needs you
as much as
you need you.
It’s
taken me
a long while
to figure
this one out.
My friend,
I can not help
you any more
other than to say,
get out
from under
that rock,
and trust yourself again.
blister in the sun
My eyes burn from
staring at screens all day.
What I would give
to blister in the sun,
with you, once more
14,000 feet high
above where passenger are allowed to turn back on their devices
above where planes fly.
We were swallowed by the sun
14,000 feet high, no reason
to be anything more than together,
maybe you can help me finish this one
with heads in the cloud, maybe it’s time.
Words Of An Average White Male 