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sometimes pigs do fly

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I have past the point of no return

where apologies have lost there meaning

Where no explanation is needed

because hell has frozen over, and I swear

I saw a pig fly the other night

but perhaps that was just my reflection

bopping down Magnolia Boulevard

watching taillights fade

and counting them like crows

One, then two, and four and eight

Oh I thought, what a burden it is to sleep

and what a wonder it is to wake.

I made a phone call that night too

and said some terrible things

that by way of the universe

I guess I just needed to say.

I am that guy sometimes — not all —

but sometimes pigs do fly.

So this is who I am

I won’t apologize

Good luck out there

If you stop judging it all,

it’s actually quite wonderful.

Nobody sleeps.

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Nobody

sleeps. We

just break our feet

and walk again.

And again.

And again.

Then awake as if

from a dream

in a rented room

which smells of

antiseptic soap.

And like a child

waiting to be fed

we struggle

struggle to breathe

struggle to see

struggle to hear

we struggle to be

like we wish we had been

all those years

we couldn’t sleep.

a new life

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As much as I want to resist

As hard as it all is

Like a caged bird released

I have to start a new life

And it’s not an escape this time

but rather a strange consequence

of choice that if it turns out

I’m running again than fuck it

like Vanilla Sky I’m gonna fly

Complete.

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Every once in a while

I see myself come back to myself

in a skewed sidewalk reflection

somewhere, out there, I am

Complete.

New York City Central Park

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Before we knew one another

New York City Central Park

feeding ducks in the pond

Austin making quack-quack sounds

and Tina wanting to go

I looked at you for a long while

before you looked at me

and through my camera lense

I took a picture in black and white

your gaze, tender and aware as if to say

I am here and I’m glad you are too

and I nervous in my boyish wonder

trying to play coy though who was I kidding

tip toeing every word as I so often do

upon first meeting before I muck it all up

with the nonsense I carry like tattered old books

though that day there was no room for Paradise Lost

there was no desire for Walden or Poe

stepping lightly off the curb in those Italian Leather loafers

I thought went well with your hesitant smile

perhaps you felt it too when time stopped

not literally but figuratively as real as a care free afternoon

like that which was the fall in Central Park

and I think I even paid for dinner that night which I couldn’t afford

for all four of us since I had the credit

just trying to be nice, because well

you know, I was happy and I think you were too.

One Philadelphia Night

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I took off my clothes

my skin suit

and rattled my bones

clicked my heels

and down the hatch

I went spiraling forth

into a bleak oblivion

where not even the dark

could hide, I

stood staring into nothing like

a Mona Lisa replica

my conscience hung midair

like a wine stained sheet

pinned neatly to dry

and there were no bones about it

I had completely lost my mind

stumbling down West 4th and Pine

crossing line after line, every time

after time just me, myself, and I

delirious in my delusion

picking homeless men off the street

with tears in both our eyes

I’m no different than you my dear friend

neither are you from I, he said

you’re going to be all right, he said

as for me well, I’ve lived a storied life, he ended

with a reassuring glance as I handed him two dimes

for it was all I had

collecting my clothes

skin suit and conscience

brave the winter, he said

spring needs you

until I wasn’t

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All my life

I never wanted to hurt anyone

I just got in the way

until I wasn’t

anymore.

Casco Bay

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Life was shit

and life

was all we had

stuck staring

at the Casco Bay

from a lighthouse

that dark summer

where nothing

would go right

and everything went

predictably wrong.

We held each other

in the morning fog

sharing our breath

as if on life support

barely hanging on

you and I and a plug

but we’d picked blueberries

earlier that month

and though life

was shit that summer

nothing went to waste.

turning sadness into song

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My guitar as of late

has been bringing me

all types of sadness

but it’s a happy sadness

it’s a healing sadness

it’s an honest sadness

I’ve fought so long to forget

that it’s funny how

with no one listening

except the walls and this

box of cous-cous

I haven’t yet opened

but sort of sing to

as it’s eye level on the shelf

where I put my phone to record

I am able to free myself

one melody at a time

turning sadness into song

and song into myself

I sing.

the Devil’s Crossroads

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Beware the desperate man

though he longs for love

keep in mind he only needs

a friend. And understand

the desperate woman

though pain in her virtue

there’s much strength

in her hand. So when at

the Devil’s Crossroads

wind whipped bodies bare

man and woman tremble

with nothing left to fear.