Monday, July 29, 2013


To Tether:
To (Twisted, tangled) tie tighter,

To trustingly, tenderly, truss.

Tuesday, September 11, 2012

The View from the Porch

You will say;
“oh but the subway shakes life so unpleasantly, I’m glad to be rid of it”
But from your porch, I see life stretch for in three directions
No spot uncluttered by man’s creation
People packed densely as wet sand
And the sun gently warms my face as I observe a real life street in New York City
And consider what it means to be a participant in all this
And when the day cools and the real sun is eclipsed by a halogen one
I feel the shine of the room on my back
The warmth of the soul you’ve invited me in to.
Even the sound of the subway has become a heartbeat to me
It whispers;
“You are here! This is now!  There are things worth celebrating!”
I thought I would be concerned, on starting this next step
Away from the comfort of your porch
You rest your head on my shoulder
My heart feels full and the corners of my mouth light
If I can’t see the road ahead for us it is only because
A light of such dazzling shines down it
That all I can see is happiness.

Wednesday, May 9, 2012

Event Horizon

I miss the apocalyptic approach of the horizon.

The hunger is the same, but I can’t muster the same impending sense of doom.  I could run straight at it and still never come close. An ending at this point would be nice.  I used to crave invisibility.  Now I know the beast will find me regardless, but without teeth.

The people who are closest to me all use the same word: accept.  Not as advice, as explanation.  Somehow I am both of these people; somehow I see both of them. 

There used to be a chart.  I had it for a minute, but it was important so I threw it away eventually.  The chart was a circle with arrows pointing helpfully.  I think there were on ramps and off ramps too, but I can’t exactly remember them, which is a terribly ham-fisted metaphor, but totally true.

Sunday, April 22, 2012


A beautiful sunset ruins a perfectly shitty day
I never take pictures
When I’m with other people
My internal logic dictates that shared memory
Precludes a need for proof of existence
Here I am alone, though, and my camera emerges
To capture proof that I existed in this moment
In the future my existence will only be implied
The actor unseen on the stage of memory
I deceive my future
The transitory nature of my mood defeated by
 Capturing lasting beauty

Monday, April 16, 2012


Quickly close my eyes
I can’t bear this
I blink out of existence
Pictures, videos. Two dimensional images to impose myself upon
On a place that doesn’t exist
On a place that was a lie
But it wasn’t, I insist
And I push myself forward
And the pain is so real it burns from within
And I can hear laughter
And I can hear laughter
I can see everyone but me
I can see
I can watch them interact with everyone but me
They never touch me
I never speak
And my eyes burst open
To reality darker and empty
I shout desperately to justify myself.
The judges, bored with my absorption, drifted away years ago
Cant you see? No one gets me
Everyone else is crazy not to think this way
Everyone else is fooling themselves.
Either way, the walls of the asylum divide us.
I shut my eyes
The doors to the asylum close.

Wednesday, April 4, 2012

The Island

Where I'm from is hard wood floors and the color burnt sienna
and people that can tell the difference between burnt sienna and brown.

Where I'm from is loud for good reasons
and full of sunshine. always the sunshine.

Where I'm from has long bike rides and kickball
and the certainty, the unyielding potent knowledge that the future was bright

Where I'm from is an impossible ideal so built up in my head that my life will never hope to compare. Where did my parents find all those friends? Where did they find money for vacations, bikes, my short but intense obsession with the spanish-american war? My prose fails me; fear rules.

Where I'm from is concrete.
Where I'm going is sand.

For Nothing

Here is this puzzle piece.
See? I placed it correctly here.

A path that leads to an abyss is not a path at all
Stairs that fall away to nothing are not stairs.

Here is this ladder.
See? I've placed my foot upon the first rung.

I can't tell you where I'm going.
I can only show you where I've been.