blue on the walls
on your lips
(cuz you’re weird)
on your shirt
as a flower
on a pin
you paid for with
green
on your shoes (laces)
in the corner
as a plant makes
you feel
grey
like your eyes
not quite blue
and definitely
not green

hank was probably
his name

i guess so because
of the 4 inches of
buttcrack (3 more than
plumber regulation)
visible between
his wranglers
and his wife-beater

i’ll give you a penny for your thoughts —
certainly
they’re worth about that much to everyone
in this room.

pasty white skin
on marbled floors
in black leg-netting

a yellow couch in
the lobby of the 70
story building.
—yellow leather.
beside a three story
pillar which looks like granite.

the elevator doors open
you emerge for lunch
and i’m more than thrilled
to leave

five of twelve pills are gone
from their orange case where
i was told homeopathy does its
thang.

five of twelve. because five
didn’t work. who needs what
remains?

i had some blurry vision
called the doc and was told
a migrane would join the party
in about 30 minutes.

then i spent the night
in awkward expectation of
that which never came.

like being stood up at that
coffee shop where everyone
knew me and was really hoping
this girl would turn in to something
great

except this time the poetry
i wrote about it was much
more emotionally detached.

you place foot in front of foot
on stone stairs and proceed
slowly to the rooftop restaurant
and order cardboard pizza and
water without lemon (and it comes
with lemon in it anyhow) and the
pizza tastes nothing like cardboard.

in fact it’s delicious.

And He is jealous from me, loves like a hurricane, I am a tree
Bending beneath the weight of His wind and mercy

why He wants anything at all to do with me is rather a mystery.
but i am a tree being battered by the rain drops i know
were carried inland from the ocean, and the salt stings
and beats against my face (leaves right?) and what can
i do but fold? that’s what they did on seeing glory
(2 Chron 7:1-3), why should i stand.

When all of a sudden I am unaware of these afflictions
Eclipsed by glory and I realize just how beautiful You are
And how great Your affections are for me

if for some reason i was ever to expect eventually
understanding it would have been foolish of me. instead
i’m overwhelmed and become comfortable in the feeling
of the loss of control, my lack of control. like you’re
a stalker and i give up ever shaking you, except a stalker
must be the wrong picture for we seem to not like those
whereas none who’ve seen you could possibly not like you.

And oh, how He loves us, oh
Oh, how He loves us, how He loves us all

i cannot claim to understand
i cannot claim to understand

And we are His portion and He is our prize
Drawn to redemption by the grace in His eyes
If His grace is an ocean, we’re all sinking

running like lemmings into the ocean except
we didn’t just begin to sink, we’ve been drowning
and people watch from the outside and think it must
hurt, yet this choking, this lack of oxygen, is not
fear inducing. the water surrounding is of another
substance of some sort and we’re hundreds of feet down
to where the light has begun to fade and everything
is blue. the reds long gone, the greens fading fast
and we’re all sinking.

And heaven meets earth like an unforeseen kiss
And my heart turns violently inside of my chest
I don’t have time to maintain these regrets
When I think about the way…

an unforeseen kiss, how it causes you to startle,
but yet is something delightful. something like
a donut you figured was just a donut because you didn’t
realize it was filled with boston cream, and when
your tongue and teeth make contact you’re startled
but delighted.
frustrated suddenly you ever ate anything else
you ever settled for something else. but without
time to feel frustration you turn instead to continuing
forward, swimming in your delight because…

He loves us, oh
Oh, how He loves us, how He loves all

How He loves
Yeah, He loves us, oh, how He loves us

Oh, how He loves us, oh how He loves
Oh, I love
Yeah, He loves us, yeah, He loves us
How He loves us, oh, how He loves us all

this feeling brings overwhelming clarity that
the words i have to express myself are frail compared
to what i’m feeling. others watch me compose poetry
to my true love and laugh at the seeming worthlessness of
what i feel. but how do you express something that makes
you feel like a child? free? you don’t. you dance and look
like a fool and then give up and decide repetition will have
to serve it’s purpose — truth — again and again in place
of a better expressed thought. because He loves us.

einstein was right you know
about both time and relativity.

what’s five minutes, you might say,
well it’s a lifetime for a popsicle in
in the sun

and i’ve been waiting here a lifetime
or two, if you consider the span of time
a gnat tends to survive when born in a
frog infested pond

and frankly 2 minutes again is asking too
much. maybe you don’t value our relationship
always showing up five minutes late.

or maybe you just value our friendship relatively

liars, every one of them.
but then we all are.
so there’s that.

an oil pool on a corner 5 feet from
the sewage drain.

a rat running alongside the curb,
scurrying for food into your favorite
small “restaurant”.

the sun breaking through the corner
of the building behind yours, shining
on the table in the courtyard from
2:32-3:34 approximately (but you’re not
counting).

life’s like this. and you’re thankful for
the promise of a new heavens and
a new earth?

you cannot help but comment
on everything you produce
be it the written word, a
creative project, the happiness
in your wife’s eye, you’ll always
point it out. something must be said
you say.
when you cough and it’s productive
you comment, when your home-
grown tomatoes taste wonderful
you comment.

and now in the distance i hear
“oh yea”
and i know it’s coming from
the bathroom where you cannot
help but comment on everything
you produce

dry air at altitude.
a romantic view of
return to routine.
tea and rice noodles
(the kind that never
quite satisfy hunger)

five days in the ancient city
void of internet
(yes, that ancient)
walking winding streets
with pictographs where
an alphabet, or even characters
do not suffice
seeking a restaurant of refuge
or a moment away from the canal
where you wash your clothes
dump your sewage
and generally swim for funsies.

five days in the ancient city
days 6-11 of my cold
and 10 hours overnight on the
second floor of the train
to bring me home.

as the stress falls from my shoulders
i’m hoping the oppressive weight
of the mucus in my throat begins to ease
and as i walk roads paved with
black-top instead of hand-carved stone
i thank the Lord for civilization,
good food, 3g, and overwhelming sunshine

and a bed i call my own
naps i call my own
and hot water
i foolishly call my own.

this beard of mine
laced with honey
dripping for sweet
to you

i never felt i lacked something
i never felt i had need of until
this void grew so big
i never felt anything like it.
i never felt satisfaction after
searching like i know i’ll find
when i find it. i know it because
until now
i aint never felt it.

i’d stuff you with bamboo
for with you i’d take extra care
the best of taxidermists
hang your right side on the wall
(it is your best side)
and i would not settle for mere
cotton
for with you i’d take extra care
you’re my trophy, and to prove it
i’d spend a little extra and
i’d stuff you with bamboo

thanks for rocking and rolling with me
while i fathered children
raised them, fathered more and began
the process of adoption.
thanks for writing with me through moves
and furloughs and job changes and
countless different degrees.
thanks for poetrizing through thick and thin
and daily (or at least sometimes daily)
giving what you got the sieve.
i grew a beard, got scruffier, meaner
and generally slightly more gruff.

but you’ve stood by… a writin’
often sans-inspiration.

thanks eh.

the beauty of being male
(apart from not having to curl up
beside a hairy buttox at night)
is in the 14 years since
we’ve seen each other
the two years since we messed
everything up
and the five minutes it took to repair.

the beauty of being male is that
a swift blow to the face solves
all our issues. and then we’re bro’s
again.