I can’t stop thinking about your eyes

I only want to stare at them forever

or at least until I am trapped inside of them

then I will rest easily and eternally

I will know what the word ‘peace’ really means

but I am toiling now for certain

I am only pausing some of the time

and in each of these fleeting stolen moments

I can’t stop thinking about your eyes

Lay Here, Thinking About Love

November 20, 2015

To stand on the cusp of a waking dream
is a dream all itself
and yet I stand coughing up
a bittersweet backwash
as I lay here, thinking about love
and I am tempered fully
because the adage is true;
you can’t have everything
and Pat Carroll was right, too
about everything, just like I feared
he may be

on wichita, ks

November 17, 2015

wichita is a pretty crack whore
who was cool in high school, once
but now an addict
selling her self and begging

as i sit with her on a street corner
before the winter when kansas
has warm fall breezes that travel
far across the empty plains
we talk sarcastically about
old inside jokes shared between
normal high school friends
but i won’t leave here without her crying
and begging me for change
and if i refuse
offering to sell me ass

it’s the oil running through
her veins that makes her cheap
and desperate


November 10, 2015

There is a monster inside of you
and inside of me, too
and it is the same monster
because this monster is omnipresent
like a God, or like an Elder God
with wrapping tentacles
with venomous teeth
and it does not feed so much as consume
and it poisons us with dark dreams
with horrible sadnesses and imagined perils
it’s toxin will teach us to fear everything we’ve ever loved
there is no medicine to bring us back to health
and even reason and good faith can do little to assuage its infection

This monster will go eventually
but only after feasting to it’s content
after we are left white and meek and beaten
We will lay in our own sick
and wretch over our hopes and dreams
but if we remain resolute
and only let our disease get the best of us sometimes
we will be able to stand eventually
and the tightness will leave our chest
the aches will leave our beleaguered muscles
and we will walk again nearly as assured as before

Then we will be as we have always been
but for the monster that we know to be lurking
everywhere and anywhere at once

Tuesday Dawn

November 3, 2015

I jumped at a shadow
And woke myself

My muscles tense as mid-crunch,
Sweat soaking brow as well

Soon I calmed and settled
In the dark of my bedroom

When the lights are out
There are no shadows, I noted

Or everything is shadows.
Perhaps it is the same.

The Sun is warm
as it reveals the world
to those who would discover it

It casts shadows, too;
it creates mirages
when it burns too bright

It blisters skin,
it boils out moistures,
it saps all fight from a man

And I am thankful for its light
And I am fearful of its shadows
And I wonder, is this what dying feels like?

Would that I could find an answer
But only the dead have it
And the dead I know don’t say a word

Shallow and Meaningless

November 1, 2015

Part 1 – Untitled

On my way to the airport my mother mentions that a Nigerian man will be coming to live with her. His brother, who is named after a day in the week, is constantly texting her.

“No one has ever said such nice things to me” she says, showing me one of his text messages.

The Nigerian is coming to go to college. “It feels nice to be able to change someone’s life” she says. I wonder why it can’t be her life, or my life, or my autistic brother’s life. She’s given up on us, I suppose.

It is a beautiful July Sunday in Southwest Michigan. The sun beats brilliant down upon the I-94 where the animals know to stay the fuck away.

We arrive at Gerald R. Ford Memorial Airport. An interstate hub. I’m going to visit my Grandmother.

I’m flying with with an airline named Allegiant which I am certain is being run by a couple of computers in a call center basement somewhere in India.

As I arrive to my gate I survey the other passengers. I think of the movie Final Destination but decide to fly anyway. I imagine us all getting sucked out of the pressurized cabin into the air. I think they are all looking around thinking the same thing.

Maybe I’m projecting.

They have the passengers split up into sections. I’m in group three, there is no group one or two, some of group four has window seats but they’re seated last.

I am sat next to an attractive young woman. Potentially younger than 18, although, in my 20s, it is hard now for me to call. She has deep dark red hair and is dressed in a black, laced dress. There’s a seat open still and I say “maybe we’ll get an extra seat, that would be nice.”

She says “yeah.”

A young family of four are to sit near us, a mother and three girls. One of the girls fills the window seat. She looks just like my ex-girlfriend’s younger sister, but thinner. Has the same name: Julie. She wears glasses. She, too, is probably under 18, though I still cannot tell.

Their skin is like porcelain. To my right is the smell of fruit, to my left is the smell of lavendar. I sneak glances at them on occasion, but I never say a word. I imagine fucking them both, and how disappointed we would all be about it; myself, each of them, those I love, damn near everybody. I decide it’s best to not say a word for almost the whole trip.

“The landing is the worst part” I finally say, as we begin to descend.

Read the rest of this entry »

Friday Morning

October 30, 2015

Now I travel South
Towards a break in the clouds,
Sun, with any luck

And I need you to remember
that even after the coldest,
darkest, rainiest days,
sometimes the clouds break
just enough for the stars
to shine through,
and sometimes the night
warms up enough for you
to take your coat off,
after all

So I
Guess I’ll
Float through

Every now and then it hits me
like a kick in the teeth

The stinging will pass, sure enough
but the ache and soreness eeks on
for hours afterward

then I’ll go a week, let’s say,
and everything will be just as good
as it could be, considering

but then the truth, like a startled mule
will stop suddenly in front of me
and out it’s hind leg will spring

Luckily my lip never seems to split
nor does anything seem to pop loose

But my jaw has been consistently stiffer,
these days,
and my gums are stinging real bad now,
that’s for sure

Diatonic Fourths

October 11, 2015

My fingers struggle to process input
from eyes that struggle to remember
how to interpret dots and marks
in such a way as to associate them
with a letter, and in some cases
a modifier that when read together
make up the pieces of what would
in the modern parlance be called
a ‘universal language’

it sounds awful as I stumble over
notes that don’t go together the way
that I think they should, but really
these intervals are new to me, or
at least they are as an exercise
in movement, but I have been assured
that even as the tones clash and
cluster, and even though my muscles
feel as dumb as they have ever felt,
I will be better off when these
sounds are under my fingers

I am not sure that I believe them
but I will stay in this woodshed
just the same


October 7, 2015

Missing you
was infinitely easier
when it was only

so I perch on hands and knees
blowing dust from stone slabs
painstakingly interpreting
the newly uncovered hieroglyphs
hoping they are not just
striated sidewalk cracks

you’ve got the heart
of a bird
that can’t fly
but you want
to be
the mighty bear

you gather your strength
in numbers
sharing your warmth
and empathy

he’s got the heart
and the skin
for the blistering cold
and all alone
though he longs
to share

he sings his sad songs
into the wind
longing for warmth
and empathy

when the world is a giant iceburg
you see what you think you need
floating among
the shards of ice in this vast ocean
the missing puzzle pieces to
a heart that doesn’t bleed

you swim for it
and you find it
but they don’t fit

some foreign things
are foreign
for a reason

some opposites
too hard to touch

you find it’s the things
that make you different
that keep you apart

no matter how you dream

Most Nights Now

October 3, 2015

‘let’s not do anything too drastic’
I say to myself most nights now
and instead of venturing forth
into the darkness with a gun
on my hip and cheap whiskey
in my gullet I swaddle myself
in the folds of a blanket that
radiates with memories so warm
they quickly overwhelm me
and as I lay with half-closed eyes
staring at the wall while
a sad old record hums through
the speakers of my stereo
I wonder if perhaps a spot of
hot hooch and some adventure
isn’t actually drastic enough


September 30, 2015

Every forty minutes or so
It happens

Liquid starts to swell
Behind the corners of my eyelids
And begins to push outward
Threatening to escape
In front of everyone

I have never been such an avid blinker

But the blinking only partially belays
The sad parts leaking out. Hell,
it doesn’t even really stop the water

And even though this only happens
Every forty minutes,
The water is always bubbling up

John Coltrane

September 26, 2015

One day
I hope to be
half as tempered,
half as true

Until then
I will try to try
and dream
of distant planets

Marry Me

September 18, 2015

‘I want to spend the rest of my life with you’
I would say, never giving away how coy I was

Those words chosen carefully each time,
always avoiding the one that really matters,
for to invoke it would surely give away
my secret plans

Now I sit alone, and those words which were
chosen with such calculation ring dead and hollow

I worry that I was too late after all
and now this jewel will sit forever,
as it melts a hole in bottom of my dresser drawer

We Are All Playing Soccer

September 16, 2015

There is a ball in play
and a ticking timer
somewhere on the sideline

Every single one of us
is winded and panting,
our hands on our knees

We are not struggling
to stay upright, it’s
not quite as bad as that

but our joints ache and
our hearts are thumping
every lung is wheezing

Each of us thinks to ourselves
‘I’m way out of my league.
There are younger men than me

‘And healthier, too. Perhaps
I should get off the pitch
and let those young men have a go’

Then the ball goes spinning this way
just outside of your immediacy
so you dash for it, kicking wildly

You do not score a goal on that play
or many other plays, really.
You stumble a lot and you’re tired

But the truth is, even in this
complete state of disarray
there is wholeness on that soccer pitch

The truth is, even as we struggle
to keep our bodies moving and our
hearts beating and our lungs full of air

Even as we miss each shot and
whiff each kick, we are playing,
and you can’t win if you don’t play


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