sometimes smoke
perfectly thickens
drainage at the back
of my throat to a
pleasing consistency
removable by
cough.

can’t live like
the guy passing
me here on my
left as i give
my all climbing
this mountain at
full speed with
the fanciest gear
and the new app
which tells me my
speed down to the
second because
it may be true
he ain’t dressed
right and he looks
a bit funny
but i cant live
like this guy
who gives his
friggin all
every moment
of every day.

sometimes folks say things
they don’t mean and they can
be hurtful things that those
folks say. sometimes.

but then there are times
people say things they really
do mean and those things can
be hurtful too when people
say things like that and really
mean it.

and lets not forget those
friends who say the things we
know we need to hear but weren’t
able to convince ourselves of
because of our own foolishness
and lack of courage to face what
would have been edifying truth
because those are the kinds of friends
that really edify us when speaking
truth in the midst of our lack
of courage to cut through our foolishness
and convince us of what weren’t
able to convince ourselves. it’s
precisely those friends are
not to be forgotten.

He left some years past
and with all the craft and skill he had
he parsed existence ceaselessly
pausing only to enjoy it’s wonders

He loved a woman who did not love him
and so he had no reason to visit
nor scarcely a reason to write back home

He crewed a small vessel and
he loved it, too.
It never did fail him, so he knew
it loved him back

And though he wandered so,
his mind never did, astoundingly

He was locked to the confines of space
and finding that it was big enough,
decided to let sleeping dogs lie

He’s there now,
I imagine,
though without a letter home
I guess I’ll never know.

i retract what i said previously
about wanting to scream or shout
or cry out upon my demise some notable
phrase that might get etched somewhere
so people could say “oh he was so” this
or whatever because i realized one day
that i hate almost every last other
human being i have ever met and would
prefer not even a tombstone to be
remembered by because you would all just
fuck it up somehow anyway.

I dreamed of you that evening;
all of the luster and intoxicating scent
and every smile was a subway token
and every story was a beautiful potted plant
on a windowsill,
halfway up a tall, tall mountain

So what if the last ten years seem like a waste
to the onlooking eyes, i know what i’ve gained
i have gained a life worth living
perhaps not in a concrete worldly way
but i know now that life is a blessing not a right
I was lost and unbirthed to the world for some time
but I have come to, and even though occasionally
I drift in and out of light,
shapeless and hurting, I somehow feel like I’m unfurling
and growing.

it’s kind of funny to watch
everyone misspell his name
and say he was with them while
they were hunting or doing their
laundry or just thinking of him

all because they want him to be
there

all because if it was their way
he would be

all because people are supposed
to understand that death is unfair
and that he should be there still
because humans are used to imposing
their will on unwilling surroundings

but sometimes we fall absolutely
short

and blatantly lie about the truth and
claim our will
imposes on
even if nothing happens.