Bright strands of light
Piercing through the window
Warm against my skin
Month: April 2009
waiting is the hardest part
poetrythe days have turned into weeks
and still the call hasn’t come,
leaving us in limbo
with only unanswered questions
of who, where, when, how,
why won’t this change!
and so the waiting
turns into pacing,
and the pacing
turns into gnawing,
all of which i hide from you
putting on a strong face,
and never realizing that
you don’t need my strength,
only my trust.
Fire
poetryIt was evening when I built the fire
Kindled in twilight
Night dragging on a veil of shadows
Before morning rays shone through
Afternoon stretched its course
And with it came evening again
Where a fresh log and heavy exhale
Sprung forth smoldering embers
A Phoenix reignited to life
Flames licking at the cedar
the sea of awkwardness
poetrysometimes i talk
only to fill the void,
lengthening with every moment
that a word is not said,
engulfing me
engulfing you
engulfing everyone,
swallowing us whole
and spitting us out
into a sea of awkwardness.
the problem of the self – insight on a sunny day
poetryi was outside on the porch
taking in the sky with clear
eyes,
she comes out in my shirt
saying “pretty,
pretty boy”
and i go inside with
unfocused eyes
and stare at the broken
oven–and you will call me
after that,
and i will think i
know what you want,
and i will make a song about it,
and i will write about it,
and i will soon disappear.
Godspeed
poetryin the electric air of
this early summer evening we
speak of what
will come to pass
while you’re away
and
wind chimes ring
hollow and low
filling the spaces
between our sad words
which we mask with laughter
in vain.
Terrifying to think otherwise.
poetryOh, what sweet peace of mind
to know that some of your friends
are in their beds, safely and soundly
sleeping.
Haiku
poetryThe clouds are overcast
A moist, sweet wind is blowing
Will it rain today?
rainbows
poetryI SEE YOU IN MY DREAMS
IN PARIS OR FRANCE
IN A MAGICAL WONDERLAND
OR IN MY CAR
YOU LOOK ME IN THE EYE
AND TELL ME WE ARE ALONE
AND MY HEART ACCELERATES
AWARE OF THE SCIENCE BEHIND
RAINBOWS.
confusion
poetrythoughts and theories
not of truth but concepts
you say you can say
but dont know how to say them
thoughts without words
do you think them?
Delivery Service.
poetryIt was a warm, clear morning.
I promise you that.
And the road was oh-so-nice
to drive over. Straight there.
Straight back. One donut shop
in between.
And the cargo delivered safely
And his mother notified.
And it was a warm, clear morning.
I promise you that.
Closer
poetryCurling delicately along lines traced
By fingers
Burning sensations underneath skin
Less like satin but a breath
Trembling each hair
A whisper tickling inside ears
Where thought and touch coalesce
Into a fleeting acuity of godliness
Balling fists in lungs
An alien air that feels too innate
Incinerated by its detection
Clenching tightly to grasp
What only slips through sooner
reflections on childrens books 1
poetryi know an old puppy who swallowed a guy
i dont know why he swallowed a guy
perhaps the humane society will come
and take him away and put him to sleep
through some sadly not altogether very
humane means such as a shot through
the leg that they claim is pain free but really
just paralyzes the puppy before the pain
sets in and causes early rigor mortis
but thats just a thought i dont know much
about what happens to old puppies who
swallow folks
in-re-flexion
poetryflat paper edges on
paper cut fingers from
pulp of evergreen
seems oddly white under
my fingers
Saturday Morning Breakfast
poetryelaborate preparations,
ritual like gone through,
all for the purpose
of delaying the inevitable,
perpetuating the magic,
that is a Saturday Morning
lest it disappear into the mourning
of work saved up all week long.
Haiku
poetryStreetlights glow brightly
Alongside an empty avenue
Not a soul in sight
Amidst a Barrage Unwanted.
poetryOne dared to let their fingers fly
and found themselves among a
slew of fast-flying insults that
had nothing, really, to do with them.
So reluctantly they stepped aside
and threw their hands in the air.
First, considered, “Why are you fighting?”
Then, conceded. “Let the fuckers kill eachother.”
on the top level of the rocket ship at rocket ship park
poetrythe five of us
crammed into that small space
which would be the
first to hit the sun, if launched
when you said
in heaven
let’s meet back here
and although
none of us believed
then in such a juvenile conception
of heaven
there was something pleasant
about wrapping ourselves in that fluffy fiction
and composing our own
epilogue.
Interview Thoughts
poetryI stand there
then sit here;
all the whilst
you judge me
and i judge you:
do you like me?
do i like you?
do i pass your test?
why should i let you judge me?
how should i answer this question?
do you want the truth or a lie?
do you want to hear that i
really only want a paycheck?
do you want to know that i
love being off in the summer?
do you want to hear that i
really don’t care?
do you want to know that i
was once kicked out of uzbekistan?
probably not,
and so i’ll tell you exactly
what you want to hear
and i’ll expect as my just reward
the bestowment of the job,
no lie.
Firsts
poetryToo often I lament the ideas
That have eluded my pen
But in mourning even one second
I miss what now is.
Take as much as I can.
Begin the very first chapter
Of my very first book.
The first is always the hardest, they say.
The first step,
The first day,
The first word,
The first sentence.
the sieve and the sand 
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