Cool air ruffles my collar
Shifts it into disarray
Takes a measure, then waits
For the oncoming rain
Just another comeuppance
In this long, restless night
As the clock tick tocks
Blending with the noises
That are driving me insane
Even though it’s silent
Outside the petulant room

She turns to face the wall
This shifting commonplace
These fragments momentary
Lost in strange frequencies
That never even out
I know she’s still awake
Her breathing uneven
Her inner voice keening
This cacophony preening
The window still open
To the chaos of the night

And this conscious sigh
Of the wind’s lament
These sheep move away
Quiet as church mice
Waiting for a miracle
A slamming of the door
A recognition in the dark
That will never come
So lies the restless wind
In the cracks between now
And the coming of the dawn.

This [Static]


I’m getting tired of excuses
Wafer thin, paper delicate
Platitudes masking apathy
Disguised in finery
Yet naked to the touch
These bankrupt conversations
Mere shadows of concrete
Lies of convenience
Dancing through these tears
Like Astaire in the rain
Like consequences unpaused
Waiting for night to fall
For this bed to catch my weight
This pillow to take my sighs
Because from moment to moment
Absolutely nothing changes

We spend our time in lines
Moving up as others fall away
Stuck in rhetorical circles
That end up where they began
Words swirling down the drain
Tossed out as if denied
As if nothing else matters
Save for the monumental rush
Of deception’s slippery tongue
These whispers in the dark
Or in the startling light of day
When demons turn to angels
And we try to make some sense
Of these shards upon the floor
This trust all but shattered

By meaningless static
Distorting my frequency.


in pieces

c5b03c1aaffd6856dcbe153071d9b430My heart breaks in pieces
Asymmetrical like your love
Which never encapsulated me
So very incomplete
An inadequate coupling
Forced into static molds
Quite complex, fragmented
Like the state I’m in
Tears streaking the glass
As I watch you pull away
These heartstrings pulled taut
Straining to follow behind
Tethered to these fragments
Fraying at the seams
And I cannot make a sound
You’ve stolen all the words
Silence a consequence
Of giving you heart and soul
This love bleeding out
Staining the space between
Your leaving and my pain
These physical manifestations
Shattering my stupidity
And my reliance on your love
That proved to be artifice
These pieces swept up like dust
Into the vortex left behind
By the absence of you
As I sit here struggling
To be whole again.


Taking Shape


The house is taking shape
Its roof and rafters
Its angles and shade
This feeling of home
Imbued in its textures

It climbs to the sky
A modern miracle
Crafted by artisans
Who measure and saw
And fit the design

But the house takes time
Its innards still bare
Window cutouts vacant
Soon to be filled
By vinyl and glass

And this hope leans in
A comfortable fit
Reaching out its arms
Like this slanting roof
Pointing up to heaven

Now the rain comes down
Pounding down from on high
Obscuring the obvious view
Turning shadows to fog
Sliding off its shutters

But I can imagine it now
This skeleton filled out
With laughter and dreams
The patter of feet
Coming down like rain

Because this is home
A future representation
Of a fascinating ideal
Its essence clearly evident
In this consequential shape

That needs a little more time.



These words are not mine
Even though they pass my lips
Like sparkling lemon water
Making me thirst for more
The undulating rhythms
Of living language thrive
They constantly vibrate
But I study them from afar
These turns of phrase
This quickening of terms
Shaking me to my core
They say such sweet things
But I don’t quite get them all
Though I give them their space
So they can breathe without me
This page filling with ink
Bleeding in blacks and blues
Spreading in all directions
And I can’t always follow
As they leave me in their wake
These reminiscent shadows
Of the words I used to know
When they belonged to me
Before I set them free.


This Impressive Instant

These windows let in light
Sparkling sunshine through glass
Sparking prisms on the floor
They shiver in their frames
Water streaked by morning dew
Forming striated patterns
Waiting for afternoon daylight
To welcome in the shadows
Painting corners of the room
With shades and tones in turn
This thick, bottle brushed glass
Unwieldy from the heated forge
Formed an eternity ago
Out of compressed sand and shale
An incomprehensible history
So alive in this impressive instant
Guarded against the shattering
That always comes in due time
Waiting for the impression
Frozen on its face at nightfall
Before the curtain falls down
All around its shoulders like hair
Shutting me out in the cold
While I long for a clarity
That only lives in dust.


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