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Their love before friends
as it always begins
then the world spun round
again and again.
Friends for the last
few phases of moon
the universe beckons
neither one to choose.
Spoken rather wisely
alone though in tune
while the world spun again
with nothing to lose.
Eyes look to the West
in Africa too
Eyes look to the East
this Hollywood noon.
There’s nothing to pardon
and no more to do
angelic they parted —
two drifters anew.
Your life is filled with
(secret)
quiet alcoholics
(secret)
closet drug addicts
(secret)
depressed poetics
fearful dramatics
queer heretics
aimless combatants
insufferable habits
(secret)
little bunny rabbit.
Oh, my life is full
and filling up —
sure ain’t cheap these days —
3.50 here
4.65 a gallon there, thus
I’m riding on empty,
with a flask
& letter
returns
to send her
tucked gently in the glove box
(where my secret (secret) stays).
Each drive cross country
I’ve laughed, I have
Cried
Sang
Danced
Purged
Prayed
Lost and
Loved.
Etcetera,
etc…
So if you decide
to drive across state lines,
could you do me a solid?
Stop in Fayetteville.
See if that old hotel
is still standing,
the one I first told her I loved her,
—bedbugs and us—
before sleep took her away
and that cheap wine
nursed me tender
til morning’s
cruel light.
But how will you know
that old hotel? Well,
it’s just like all the rest now
I’m sure, remodeled to dust.
Another ghost among the many,
love’s whisper in the wind.
A sweet chorus of birds
lingers in the air, as
the morning wains on
expectantly
that old dog bark
rings heavy on my mind.
Pulling the covers overhead, thinking
the day can—and most certainly will—wait for me today.
My feet are sore
and my heart is silent.
I’ll stand when I’m ready, till then
I’ll snore along till noon.
Seven months &
Two days
since…
Nothing really makes sense,
does it? Didn’t then,
doesn’t now!
Life just goes on until it doesn’t.
Like the envy of a caterpillar
for the beauty of a butterfly.
If you’re tired,
don’t boast.
Everyone is tired
of
Everyone &
something else.
Farewell yesterday
and thank you
for today
is tomorrow
already,
that yesteryear
is merely a mirage.
I’ve always kind of been saying goodbye.
Even when I’ve said hello.
I’ve always meant,
Goodbye.
I keep coming across memories
in the background of my mind.
They say to live within the present
or else life’s a waste of time.
But presently these memories
have left me color blind.
And I can’t quite find my way out
of this never ending rhyme.
I keep coming across memories
like bicycles speeding by.
Their features blur together
with wind burnt summer skies.
How presently these memories
present themselves as I,
remember each one vividly
to whom each one I’ve lied.
How precious are these memories
kept sound within the dark.
Each one with their own melody
from which I’d never part.
Though presently these memories
which bear my open heart,
may one day get the best of me
for now are works of art.
The only time
I was ever certain, were
the times I’d lost my mind.
But even then,
I never had a clue — I did.
Words Of An Average White Male 