Saturday, November 17, 2018

The Third Part of Roses::Delusions of Grandeur

The things that make me great
can be counted on one hand

I love you

There is something wrong
with the world we live in
War and Hate is not natural

The unknown is the only reason
we disagree about anything

When we think about the world
as each individual
doing our best to sing
in the choir of seven billion,
there are no regrets,
just reminders.



Friday, November 2, 2018

Flowers and Practicing Roses Pt. 2

My florist’s favorite flowers
are the ones that live the longest

Mine too

Yet, she still pushes the bargain bin on to me
We both know these blooms will die tomorrow
but man, what a steal, a bunch of roses
for just three dollars

There’s not enough wine in the world
to replicate the feeling I receive
when I replace every dying stem
from their place in my decorum
with fresh cut flowers
that I know have at least two weeks to live

Finis

It should end there
but it never does









Thursday, October 25, 2018

Practicing Roses Pt. One

There is a brand new typewriter
on my kitchen table
My heart has been filled with
suicide letters
since I picked it up last week
Thank you for giving it to me
for free
I sure am lucky
no one paid the asking price
for this old dusty thing
that is new to me

I shouldn’t throw that word around
as if suicide is something
you can mention casually
But everything I want to write
is about how I kill myself every year
and then just wipe the slate clean
like a pecked-at piece of paper
pulled swiftly from a pecking machine
Replaced, stark and clean
with a blank page
Cliche wrapped up in antiquity







Wednesday, August 1, 2018

No Speak

There are no plans now
It is you
It is me
It is words we never said
and everything we said that one time

It is you showing up unexpectedly 
and crying
and hoping 
and collapsing 
There in front of god and everybody 

And you told me to wait
it’s technical
it’s fragile
it’s sensitive 
There are truths that will make themselves known

I believe you

Thursday, May 17, 2018

May (One of Twelve) or My Love


I am ecstatic
and rarely think of death
the way I used to
We spoke in passing
of the way you thought
you would walk into the woods
and I would make a bed
in my downstairs bathroom
either way, careful to make sure
no one would be bothered
by the mess our bodies would create

I am only bringing this up
to remind you, me,
and anyone that is listening
dying is a part of the dialogue
that being alive speaks
If you want to marry me,
I vow to you
I will go out of my way
to stay alive longer than you
I am ecstatic knowing
you're not going anywhere soon

I am ecstatic
falling asleep next to you
Your body is warm
and particular and honest
You should know
that I cry more than you do
Every time you leave
or have to work later than me
Every time I move something
in our room or rearrange anything
It is just me missing you

My Love, I believe there is a space
where two people can live
without recognizing creation or destruction
can be thoughtful and reckless
think as one but be two
where perspective is often wrong
and admits so gracefully
A place where doubt cannot exist
and reassurance holds company
with the saints and everyday kindness
like an epitaph written by the deceased


Tuesday, April 24, 2018

April or 12 Months/12 Poems

If every one could take a moment
Go around the room
Say something nice
About me
Now is the time
I am nicer to strangers
than I am to my own blood
When I say I have no expectations
it is because the only things I look forward to
are the things I am doing for myself
and the people that see me do those things
in real time

This coming of seasons has been hell
Guess I don't like it when it's cold
when it's not supposed to be
Guess I liked it more when I could get my sad
when the sun was shining, finally
Maybe I don't like to put things on hold
if I know they are happening regardless of me
Maybe I'm doing better than I let on
If this were being recorded
no one would ever worry about me,
but they might wonder how
I figure out how to get all this sleep.

This is the only poem I will write in April
I hope to sound like a bat-shit crazy person in May
whilst writing every thought that comes to mind
while he is away
I think there is something very special
about reserving your thoughts,
your greatest ever thoughts,
for the person that you are forever with
while they're away
I hope he tells strangers about me
while I remind every stranger I never knew
that this is what I was saving myself for










Saturday, March 17, 2018

You Rhyme With Purple (I Want You Only)

because we do listen to the same music
even if it its against our wills.
And the lyrics you love
speak to me too and light me up,
like a slow reveal .

I am a bastard to timing
and leave you out there often
but in this dust of thoughts,
here, where the bone fragments remain,
I must tell you

I am yours only

So get used to words like "purple" and "kind".
Get used to being mine.
Here, where I first saw you,
and last year when I cried
about how I didn't want it to be you

I want you only

because we do listen to the same things
even though it is against our will.
And the people you love
love me too
and we were always meant for each other