Thursday, March 31, 2011


I've decided to comb my hair in a high pompadour. I'll get a Rolls and a tungsten statue of Jesus for the dashboard. If I'm lucky, I'll make enough money to realize that money isn't the answer--or the problem.

Wednesday, March 30, 2011

The gift

If I had to say anything, anything at all about her eyes, I'd say they were the moss' reflection in the lake. And as I stand on the bank dizzy under the quiet stream of her gaze, I know her father is waiting for us at home. I wonder, if pinned beneath a sheet of thin glass, would the color of her eyes and her lips stay true, like the monarch frozen forever in my study?

Monday, March 28, 2011


There has never been one day of peace. We are not at harmony with our lives. You've been violent, I've been hostile. We are not healed or equal. Our world is strife and loss.

All we are is love--a melody, sadly sweet with just the right touch of hope. You've been kind, caring, my lover and myself. We are together in all we walk through. Our world is love and abundance.

Sunday, March 27, 2011


We, meaning you and I, seem to have difficulty lining up. We say we want the same things--a bridge to each others heart, and yet we spend more time in dischord than harmony--will we ever align our wills under one flag, our roads under one direction, our gaze under one star?

Saturday, March 26, 2011

A Very Slow Nothing

I'm up, but I ain't happy about it. It's 5 pm and I'm restless and bored. My situation is such that my options seem limited. If I was alone I'd probably head back to bed--if I had a bed, and if I was alone.

Friday, March 25, 2011


A box, probably 10 inches by 11, holds two copies of the first half of my life. It doesn't look necessarily evil from the outside, but then again, lots of naughty things come in boxes of that size.

Thursday, March 24, 2011


Imagine a maze around you, an intricate space of passages opening and closing, a thousand different walkways leading to millions of connections, a life after life after life, and you can't see it. Like a party, held by hostile strangers two floors above you, you're uninvited, and unwanted, but you have to come in--you're the guest of honor.

Wednesday, March 23, 2011


As if the razor touched blood and the pain furrowed lines weren't enough, the stabbing pain in what some bad poets would call a heart convinces me of my failure to be less than human--less than a child.

Tuesday, March 22, 2011


It's not a bad thing to want solitude. To crave a door against my back, a lock between my sight. There's a universe to think about, a world of past to digest, a cool garden of life on this edge of regret. As soon as you walk away, I'll turn the lights off and fade into the carpeting.

Monday, March 21, 2011


I'd been told before to never put down my batt, that hardball was a game rooted in my being, and I followed that advice. If I had an opinion I gave it--even if it was a 3 and 0 pitch that I should have ignored. But I've suffered for my love of that game, for deep down I'm a coward, a single A child fearful of the actions his outer adult takes, and I can't stop him from swinging for the fences every chance he gets.

Sunday, March 20, 2011

Welcome Home

How lucky am I that a threatening grey sky awaits you at home, that a cold ocean breeze will offset the warmth of my arms? There is nothing better than the kiss of a late winters reluctant death for a man whose woman struggles to see the safety in his love.

Saturday, March 19, 2011


Eyes closed. Freeway close cars intimidating my vehicle to stay in lane. I imagined myself filling the inside of your body. Spirit meshed with spirit, encased within your shell. Your soft faith sprayed hand reaches down and lays on our thigh. A duo of narcissists making love to ourself.

Friday, March 18, 2011

Missing you?

Is our connection such that a scant 400 miles causes me pain, is that how weak our love is? My love for you is a universe and the edge of eternity is not further than your hand and your heart engulfed in mine.

Thursday, March 17, 2011

A new slate that looks remarkably like the old one

It's not as if this day hasn't happened a trillion times before. "What is that you say? We're unique, we're growing, changing every second." No, really we're not. We have always been as we are, and as we will be.