we are each alone
in our own lonely way
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
March 27th, 2010
Long Distance
I have been driving this highway for 900 days
and i know each mile by heart
Some claim an intimate knowledge of a lover's body
her hips and skin
her freckles as familiar as
his own
This highway is my lover
her flaws I have accepted,
Over 900 days I have become as regretfully patient
as a partner
I watch out for hazards,
unexpected weather;
I turn the lights on in the dark
and keep driving
my eyes ever watching for signs
that I'm almost home
I have been driving this highway for 900 days
and i know each mile by heart
Some claim an intimate knowledge of a lover's body
her hips and skin
her freckles as familiar as
his own
This highway is my lover
her flaws I have accepted,
Over 900 days I have become as regretfully patient
as a partner
I watch out for hazards,
unexpected weather;
I turn the lights on in the dark
and keep driving
my eyes ever watching for signs
that I'm almost home
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
march 26th, 2010
he passes a palm over
weary eyes
and closes them
when they open
they are looking at you
and they are still so tired.
you don't move
you don't dare move
you don't dare
but if you keep breathing
you might just see this through
weary eyes
and closes them
when they open
they are looking at you
and they are still so tired.
you don't move
you don't dare move
you don't dare
but if you keep breathing
you might just see this through
Monday, March 29, 2010
march 25, 2010
nosebleed
you had just stepped into the shower when
your nose began to bleed
thr left nostril
streaming blood and i shrank away
i was soaped up and slippery
but the blood trailed through
your beard like a game of plinko
"it looks worse than it is," you said
and i took your word for it and finished up my shower
alone
you had just stepped into the shower when
your nose began to bleed
thr left nostril
streaming blood and i shrank away
i was soaped up and slippery
but the blood trailed through
your beard like a game of plinko
"it looks worse than it is," you said
and i took your word for it and finished up my shower
alone
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
March 24th 2010
a yellow paperback
with green-trimmed pages
sits on a side table,
unread
it's corners dogeared and waiting
while the girl watches television
and thinks about reading
the paperback
but never does
with green-trimmed pages
sits on a side table,
unread
it's corners dogeared and waiting
while the girl watches television
and thinks about reading
the paperback
but never does
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
March 23rd, 2010
There is a poem inside every day
but there are days when
I don't know
where to find it.
but there are days when
I don't know
where to find it.
Monday, March 22, 2010
March 22nd, 2010
Spring Back
Most people love spring.
I don't.
I don't love the puddles cracking open to
their murky bottoms and crusted edges
I don't love the snow that melts and runs and then ices back over again in ugly, uneven patches
threatening passersby with slippery surfaces
I don't love the false hope of sunshine when it's only almost-warm
the way shoes get damp, and then the cold leaches through and stains your socks with a wet that will never, ever dry
and then there's the dogshit
dissolving into the mud, into the sodden lawn
under a dark-edged sky
I don't love the green grass poking up through the fading snow
the burble of a newly woken river
the lyrical voices of birds come home to nest
people say spring is Hope, it's Life, it's yellow chicks portending possibilities
but i only see promises waiting to be broken
in those flowers which are aching to bloom
Most people love spring.
I don't.
I don't love the puddles cracking open to
their murky bottoms and crusted edges
I don't love the snow that melts and runs and then ices back over again in ugly, uneven patches
threatening passersby with slippery surfaces
I don't love the false hope of sunshine when it's only almost-warm
the way shoes get damp, and then the cold leaches through and stains your socks with a wet that will never, ever dry
and then there's the dogshit
dissolving into the mud, into the sodden lawn
under a dark-edged sky
I don't love the green grass poking up through the fading snow
the burble of a newly woken river
the lyrical voices of birds come home to nest
people say spring is Hope, it's Life, it's yellow chicks portending possibilities
but i only see promises waiting to be broken
in those flowers which are aching to bloom
Sunday, March 21, 2010
March 21st 2010
You left your house in the midst of a prairie winter
to see if you could hack it in the heat of a far-off jungle
and returned to an early melt.
The basement walls had become a sieve, they were
running like a waterfall
and you had one instinct, only:
staunch the flow,
stop the water before it ate the concrete,
destroyed the foundation,
caved in the supports and tumbled your house into a heap:
you wanted to save your house
you wanted to stop this collapse
But here is another way of looking at it:
You could have stepped back
let the earth move
let the water come in
Wrapping the walls in plastic is only a bandaid solution
a temporary measure
you cannot stop time
with a sump pump
you cannot prevent the inevitable
which is the rising up of nature
the invasion of melted snow
the earth taking back what it rightfully wants
Step aside
and let nature take its course
stop imposing your vision
onto a structure
that is more than its crumbling basement cement
So
let the walls come down and see
what grows up
in their place
March 6th, 2010
sometimes silence is all you can hope for
descend into the quiet
hope for calm
patience will expand and fill the spaces
that love's cacaphony only crowds
descend into the quiet
hope for calm
patience will expand and fill the spaces
that love's cacaphony only crowds
March 4th, 2010
Eating Tikka Masala in Vietnam
the air is wet
hot
heavy
we move so slowly through these streets
but finally an Indian restaurant has us laughing
because this naan and mutter paneer
all of a sudden are familiar
and taste like home
you put your hand out
I lay mine next to it, our palms facing
"I can feel you, although we are not touching"
we are connected
through the warmth of
Vietnam
as it radiates from our skin
the air is wet
hot
heavy
we move so slowly through these streets
but finally an Indian restaurant has us laughing
because this naan and mutter paneer
all of a sudden are familiar
and taste like home
you put your hand out
I lay mine next to it, our palms facing
"I can feel you, although we are not touching"
we are connected
through the warmth of
Vietnam
as it radiates from our skin
March 2nd, 2010
...ocean view beach resort....
....montgomerie links...
...investment opportunity!...
....crowne international casino...
...rent or own...
these English words under white faces
on billboards strung along the
Pacific Coast highway between
Hoi An and Danang
it would seem the Yankees have
finally won the war
the Viet Cong beaten back by golf clubs,
the surrender to the all-you-can-eat
seafood buffet, while
Ho Chi Minh, defeated, sips
cocktails at the swim up bar
the sun blazing high in the west
....montgomerie links...
...investment opportunity!...
....crowne international casino...
...rent or own...
these English words under white faces
on billboards strung along the
Pacific Coast highway between
Hoi An and Danang
it would seem the Yankees have
finally won the war
the Viet Cong beaten back by golf clubs,
the surrender to the all-you-can-eat
seafood buffet, while
Ho Chi Minh, defeated, sips
cocktails at the swim up bar
the sun blazing high in the west
March 1st, 2010
Motorbike Karma
You might as well look at the bright side
--as searing as the Saigon sun--
you can only know how truly good you are
when you realize how truly terrible you felt being truly bad.
You might as well look at the bright side
--as searing as the Saigon sun--
you can only know how truly good you are
when you realize how truly terrible you felt being truly bad.
February 28th 2010
February 28th 2010
Cua Dai Road
they told us there was a tsunami warning
but we went to the beach, anyway
you rented us a motorbike
and drove us along the hot, dry road
to meet the Pacific
my head on your shoulder
my arms wrapped around your waist
like a love song
Cua Dai Road
they told us there was a tsunami warning
but we went to the beach, anyway
you rented us a motorbike
and drove us along the hot, dry road
to meet the Pacific
my head on your shoulder
my arms wrapped around your waist
like a love song
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