Now that everyone’s
Happily Ever After
I’ll close this Fairy Tale
Grimm—
whose endings never fail—
climbing locks of gold
to a window made of stone
willing to trust fall
blindly and be done—
listening for tears
to help me see again.
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Santa Monica
I guess we drank wine, I don’t recall but a Polaroid tells me we did.
I lost track of time, all around me the world continued to spin.
Not like you were mine, I just talked to you when you came around.
I guess it was kind, of like two kids on a merry-go-round.
You wrote me a letter, from Santa Monica in June.
You said you felt better, and that you thought I’d like it too.
Come in December, and we could write poems in the park.
Then there was that blizzard, that left New York alone in the dark.
I was alone in the dark.
I guess that it’s time, to burn these memories you left behind.
I never did find, a more honest friend or a beautiful mind.
I hope that you found, the world that you set out to see.
And know that I’ll be, singing this from across the sea.
Hollywood Boulevard
Nobody seems to notice the homeless
Except the little girl
Piggy backing her fathers shoulder
Slouching, down Hollywood Boulevard
French New Wave Lifestyles
She seemed relatable
like a French new wave film—
Her hair was tangled by
the absence of the thrill—
My mind fell blind in the dark
each movement felt removed
In black and white it all looks like
some senseless noir doom.
Descending ladders with a
backwards forward view—
Replaced reminders taken
for some other you—
She stepped calm in the light
another foreign move
In black and white it all seems like
you just might make it through.
Now there’s a towel on the floor
white as a dove
Transcending shadows as if
orders from above
The clock just turns and spins
a spiral of what’s lost
In black and white it all feels like
we’re dying to be caught.
In black and white it all looks like
there’s nothing to turn off.
a single string of hope
Every single line, you know
Is a single string of hope
Tied tightly like a bow
Let go like a balloon
For every single addict—to see
From his lonely corner sidewalk
To the comfort of her goose down
From the Tetons to the sea
The Price You Pay For Being Born
A couple days of patience
and a miners rest, she’s
Sleeping like a baby
in her Sunday’s best, I
didn’t wake her up
I was too forlorn, but
That’s what you get for being born—
I was taking out the trash
like the other weak, with
The temper of a mime
I began to speak, when
She woke she’d a fever
and a thousand words, I
Guess I’d spoken them all before—
Must be something in the water
cause I’m overboard, with
The seaweed and the starfish
dried out on the shore, it’s
Nothing I would suggest
drowning in a well, it’s
Just a way to be by yourself—
She dreamt of her family
from the outer space, and
Gave me a healing
full of peace and grace, but
I took it for granted
like most lovers do, it’s
Loud as hell in this quiet room—
Words form a meaning
if you spin them right, it’s
Like turning hay to gold
if it’ll save your life, so
Leave the baby in the basket
wrapped by your front door, it’s
The price you pay for being born—
Where Praying Mantis Lay
There’s something bout the Summer
that makes this all ok, yet something
bout the Winter that
would have me feeling grey—
Like the cement of a tombstone
or the flowers of decay
In Springtime there’s a forward march
No Fall back plan could save—
Perhaps it’s in the heatwave
that makes this all ok, or perhaps
it’s the chemistry
where praying mantis lay
A Delicate Cage
What I release to the night
Let’s me wake in the morning
Where I’m light as a feather
And stiff as a board
Oblivious to the slow dying
That I keep in a delicate cage
With just enough space
And water
And love—to survive
Acting like you don’t know is an art in itself
It’s hard
To see
Out this pit
Of despair
When you’re down
On your knees
In the cold
Summer air
And it’s hard
To conceive
Memories
When you care
Looking for
What you lost
In a house
Built of mirrors
And it’s hard
When you know
All of this
Is a joke
Convinced
Or exposed
Either way
There’s a host
To obey
Or believe
In what you
See in me
That’s alright
It’s ok
Sip your honey
and tea
I just thought
You should know
I don’t know—
Yeah I know
Tchotchke
You read my sadness
Word for word
Like I’m a novelty
Then put me down
Back in my place
Some oldtime tchotchke—
And I wonder how it feels,
Window shopping too?—
From the corner of my gladness
To the outskirts of your sadness
Where nothing is for certain
And no one is to blame
Except we don’t glimmer anymore
Or sparkle like we used to—
Ornamental at our best
Tokens from another life
Words Of An Average White Male 