Sunday, May 22, 2016

light at the end.

[im swimming in a sea of stated facts,
and i'm not sure i should bite]

   There's a light that flicks on and off at the end of my street,
   in the shade of the trees at the bend in the cul-de-sac.
   The light shines when I'm looking for it,
   but I can't be sure it's there when I'm gone.
   It seems like every time I turn around,
   the light goes out.
   My little light is fleeting, 
   nesting furtively in the shadows
   at heights, 
   there when I need it to shine, but biding time,
   saving strength, saving itself for another night;
   until it can split through smoke tendrils and lift me up,
   right below the power lines.
   Little light,
   you're mine,
   as long as I never know who's behind you.
   And maybe I'm missing something, maybe I should venture to find it,
   the source.
   Instead of looking for it only when I light a cigarette, 
   when I walk out to take out the trash;
   instead of just ignoring it when it rains,
   instead of dreaming it winks out in my periphery.
   I carve circles in the concrete with the crunching of 
   glass and gravel under boot heels, under alternating laces,
   just to find the right light, under you, before I drift away.
   I just asked to be bathed in this light, you see,
   you're not all I have,
   but I'm sinking, so just drown me.
   Just drown me,
   little light of mine,
   as long I know you're behind me,
   I'll be there.
   When you're off,
   When you're on,
   When you're on your own.

Sunday, May 15, 2016


[i got well
at the end of my last spell,
hiding out in lecture halls,
until tenured.
after this startling display,
a dazzling tour de force,
a brave dyslexic read,
bathing in quicksand with bated breaths
behind drowning gills.
as long as we haven't become what we
most dislike,
there's no better direction to go than forward.
come on. ]

i know, i know. timing is everything.
but, look at you. 
chances are you'll read this,
and your mind won't have changed.
just know that i might know nothing,
but I know nothing
felt quite so right
than skipping the slurs to shake you.
and i know, i know, it's strange, but i won't 
change my tune.
so don't change yours.
i've got tremors just to 
shake these curses
just like we rehearsed, 
at the turn of the century.
i won't,
if you won't.
just don't change your tune.

i know, i know
i falter and i drift away
sort of unceremoniously, and sort of in sync.
my mind and mouth get lost,
so navigate,
navigate me.
pave away the distance,
dissipate these bridges that hang
with this suspense.
take away another strangling season
of silence,
and i won't abandon all hope 
that these
these nights
might take away my forever feelings.

just, god damn.
god damn me,
or put me to rest,
against the stunning silence.
in the solace of spring,
i steel myself against the way
you're uninvolved and you,
you lift my anger up in blood,
and tuck it away
into your uniform,
just please
don't change your tune.

when you speak,
you speak only 
in tongues and trembles,
impossible just to 
say something sensible
or walk away;
and wander toward answering how
something so tame could
feel so romantic.
and i'm attuned,
i'm in tune with and
torn by antiqued ideas of matrimony,
when really we're bound by nothing
but this gravity.
just now getting accustomed
to this feeling of falling
before i change my tune.

Wednesday, May 4, 2016


[we know there's no one-stop solution
for absolution.
the wish is to be washed
in this startling white light;
to see a resolution
for the weight of our sins.]

an eye cast to the sky
through a lens,
she said she could see
where the sky divides.
she said she could see
the star, the sparkle in
our hearts, the star
that'd been sent
to hold us down.

the star cast long shadows
in the sand, over walks
fueled by whiskey sunrises.
we'd walk across
the shoulder
where the ocean meets the land
and marvel at how flat.

we'd walk across
cracked shells and glass
and she'd say
 "the light,
    its absence
      isn't quite right, it's
she'd say
       "i'm losing the faith,
          the reason, the will
            to get you to listen."

now, i've got to walk back
through that same sand
in the same fading footprints
echoes of us at one time,
echoes at best.