waiting is the hardest part

poetry

the 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

poetry

It 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

Delivery Service.

poetry

It 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

poetry

Curling 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

poetry

i 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

Interview Thoughts

poetry

I 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

poetry

Too 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.