Category: Poetry

i live in small
spaces and love
with all my heart

March 14, 2023

are we all losers
here, collectively

collecting at the
industrial

drain catch, catch-
all for an economic

sink hole,

wholly here
for a pay-
check

checking a
disheartened

screen

screen-
ing another

offer offering
another

plateau of
work week
weakened

doing dust
collecting

while i write

poetry in
front of
an oil
fryer

April 3, 2023

always bring your
best self to the table
and you will never
go hungry

October 22, 2022

The little golden door has
let me through. It was
too small at first,
but I knelt to
touch
the
handle and I am
on the other side now.

March 14, 2020

When your skull rattles on the hamster
wheel and You can't tell your feet from
your shoes and they Have you down
for A sign on the dotted line to feed
your Family a hand-me-down meal,
'cause if you're Going to survive
you're going To have to make it
Work, make a home, make a
life when work Is home,
work is life, when An
honest day is
honestly
an Act,
a
head
long follow
through Of just
enough until some
fragile moment pulls
you off the manic round
about and you forget why
and remember for whom,
forget the whine of the
wheel and remember
a shared meal,
remember
that it's
not
the
hanging
of the hat
but the hand
in the hand, that
the tunnel is only
a vision and the check
the means to the end of
the day, that nothing we
build will last beyond the
graveyard shift, when you
remember what it's all
about, when you
remember
Love.

September 3, 2022

i need air
to live
so
does
that mean
air is a part
of who
i am
a
sort
of periodic
relationship
with symbiotic
elements of stylistic
sub luminous human
consciousness
still wet
behind
the
amniotic when
time's up!
a fluid creek
without a
cause
way
out
across
the surface
of a high
tension
wire
drawn
to this
fish
bowl
soup
of a
life
or
is
it all
in my head?

September 3, 2022

Start with:
maybe it's not about me.

quiet morning ritual,
open to possibility.
contemplation.
stillness.
a deep breath,

diving in
to:
maybe it's not about me.

open palms
letting go
softly
considering
without judgement
without shame
radiating outward
into other moments
another time in
a place not yet known
resurfacing to breathe
with you
in awe
and wonder maybe

maybe it's not about me.

June 8, 2022

why does emotional wreckage haunt us?
(i'm always at least a little bit lost.)

we move so fast but do we go anywhere?
or are we like trees, rooted in our lives.

two seeds encompassing separate
universes of potential become
two trees in separate universes,

both uncomplaining subjects of
their places in the world, of
their microclimates, of shade,
sun, elevation, weather,
competition for water.

they don't get to choose where
and when damp soil awakens
them any more than apes decide
where and when to be born
and into what precarious
social networks.

it's the agony of choice that defeats us
moment by moment, the mistaken belief
that no roots bind us, that no walls block
out the warmth, that the open sky alone
determines where our reach meets its
limitations.

trees feel no grief, no loneliness, no despair.
they endure. they live, they grow, they die.
they fall, they sift into soil, decay.

or are we discrete organisms at all?
or are we only entries in a bestiary

manufactured by the neural pathways
left behind by natural selection, by
those primitive shapes that fell one
into the other, by those coincidental
keys that opened coincidental locks,
those streams of particles flowing
through the skulls of self-considering
apes, electrical entities that can't see
backwards into space or time, only
inwards, the master originators who
declare this pool of signals suffering,
enfolding it within a length of
judgement,

this is wrong, a sin, a fault, or
this shall be excused, ignored,
elevated into grace.

trees make no such distinctions.
fill in the spaces between the
branches and the tree becomes
negative.

whatever we are, we exist, we need.
one moment of joy, one moment of
grief. we pass along the dendritic
stream into an unreachable sky.

(suffering dislodged from its context
is never senseless.)

May 30, 2022