poetry

Marry Me

poetry

‘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

poetry

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
collectively;
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

I Must Have Been Dead Before Now

poetry

I would spend each night
dreamless, or at least
I did not know my dreams

or if I knew my dreams
they were dark dreams.
They were black ink
that washed across my world

Now I spend each night
dreaming, or at least
I know my dreams

They are wonderful dreams,
too; we are happy and
healthy and smiling

I think that I dream
the rest of the time now, too,
and before I must have been dead

The dead don’t dream so much,
I think, and this waking dream
so often makes me feel
like I’m dying

we run from the easiest answers

poetry

i believe i knew before the dive,
anyway

i knew when i forgot where you were

i mean you know when someone goes
missing

at the bottom of the lake
and at the bottom of everything
you thought you needed to find
and was dead already
with your face,
and your eyes wide,
purple-ish blue
dead long before
you knew it was missing
dead already when
you realized it was gone

so what there is now
left
to hold onto
must endure.

to you, or: the reason man made the gun

poetry

the world is incalculable by any one man
as much as we tried wasting our youth
tossing ideas around like large numbers
on the chalk-board of a mathematician
all threads seem to come screeching to a halt
at some point,
eventually

the one thing, i think
it has been agreed by all
that the best place to drive
your car is in the middle
of the lane

but more than that
the double yellow line must be
treated with respect
and at times,
by rule of the gun

man made the gun to be used when there
is no sense to be had
when it comes down to just you and another
on a dusty plane anywhere at all
and at that moment self-preservation is
the only truth to be had at

this increasingly is how i’ve begun
to see things in general
and i say this to you, now, specifically

sleep with your gun my friend
sleep with your gun and hold it with your heart
sleep with the gun you built yourself
by thinking and feeling every hour of every day
like i know you do
and when nothing makes sense and nothing is upright
when they are saying “no it is six oclock” and your eyes
tell you it is ten
when they are saying “no the grass is green” when you
see it brown
when they are cancer in your blood
when they become you and you become them

pull that fucking trigger
first and keep yourself
alive

this is why man made the gun
for when all else fails
it alone is to be respected
and to whoever holds it
life,
still.

draw some damn roses

poetry

I consume so much
lately I fail to stop and draw the roses
myself
I sniff and breathe
view, appreciate, enjoy,
and fail to create. and fail to create. and fail to create.
allowing all the beautiful roses to be representations of others
failing to give back

well shit. no more.

Dream

poetry

I dreamed we were sailing
On a holiday cruise

You smiled under red-framed sunglasses,
My hair stayed blowing steadily in my face and eyes

Your fingers touched my arm
and through The wind and spray I felt whole

But then darkness overtook me;
I must have been thrown overboard

When I awoke, I did so gasping on dry land
Wrapped in the folds of the blanket you gave me

I hope you read this poem

poetry

You are delicate and tender
with a heart too large,
with a soul too beautiful.

You are a whole truth
and a force of beauty;
you are uncontainable.

You inspire and incite
a passion I could not know
before I met you.

Your smile lifts my spirit,
your touch can cure me instantly
of all of my woe and sadness.

But if you need to cure yourself
then I can only waste your medicine.

If you need to stand and soldier
than I can only get in your way.

If you must be alone right now
then I must be alone as well,

and I hope you read this poem,
so you know that I will wither
if it means that you will thrive.

Pride Goes

poetry

I am a proud man
full of virtue, I am sure,
and prone to ignorance

I thrive on the meat
that is selfishness;
I wallow in the ichor
that is my own petulance

I always know better
and if you ask me
I will tell you just that

Never mind that you have
trained your whole life.
Never mind that I have
only read a couple messages
on a message board

I am a proud man
and I am human garbage,
so it should be no surprise
if you toss me out.

let me know if you’re ever in Wichita we’ll get coffee

poetry

i know you’ll never be
in Wichita
and if you were
we would only
get coffee

we could share
maybe a half an hour
in the local flavor
and reminisce
on times we were
in the same
geographical
location
and what happened there

we could make jokes
so it wouldn’t be
awkward

then like addicts
retreat back to
reality
and dispense
with the dry
niceties

take showers
like call-girls at sunrise
wipe away shame with
our saved up social
capital
and smile,
next we
should meet

but seriously

let me know

if you’re ever

in Wichita

we’ll get coffee

and call ourselves

friends.