That Time at JP's, 8/27/10

I was thinking the other night
about that time at JP's
Drinking shitty wine
because we didn't know any better
playing that stupid trivia game all night
I swore it was Bukowski
at the other end of the bar
and you looked at me, uncomprehending
but we bought him a drink anyway
just in case
while we played crappy music on the juke box
Music that you actually liked
so I liked it too
I whispered the words to "For Jane"
in your ear
as you swooned
and we kissed like there was no tomorrow
How could we know there wasn't
not for us
oh, there was a tomorrow for you
and one for me
but not for us,
not like we were that night
but now, you tell people
you once bought Bukowski a drink
that time at JP's

Odd Man Out, 8/26/10

Odd man out
Yet again,
The kind who's easy to leave behind
in the outskirts of Bohemia
or the ass crack of America
Not likely to live on in your memory
Not the one you keep
To be thought of, maybe
in the years further on
as you live someone else's suburban dream
the wistful question,
I wonder what ever happened to ...
the odd man out,
the kind you leave behind
Not the one you keep
still, this time
I hoped it wouldn't end
with the words, yet again

The Starbucks in Inverness in the Rain 8/25/10

She is in the Starbucks, in Inverness, in the rain
And I am in my apartment, which doesn't sound nearly as romantic
As the Starbucks in Inverness in the rain
But for reasons beyond the knowing
She's talking to me as she argues with the GPS
and sings along to the songs she plays
in a borrowed car
in Inverness,
in the rain
as I watch the sunrise
in my apartment
not in Inverness
not in the rain

Another Stupid Poem about the Moon, 8/24/10

O I hate the moon
O I love the moon
How she comes and goes and comes again
Heaven's mystery
in female form
Vanishing again, as if by design
Leaving nothing but slivers like a blade
And just when I've grown used to her absence
When I no longer expect to see her hanging in the night
when I don't expect to be engulfed in her soft sweet light
When I say, oh, I don't need the moon
not anymore, she's gone, I'm fine
Just when I say these things to the point
I almost believe them
I'll turn a corner in some canyon at dawn
and she will, again, burst into my life
Low in the western sky
full and bright and sweet as the promise of the day
giving one last kiss
and again, she slips away
O how I hate the moon
because I love her so

Cherry Blossoms and Thistle (for K) 8/23/10

Her mother, she says
smelled of cherry blossoms and thistle
and chamomile was the scent of her home
For me, its jasmine, sage and the salt of the sea
and I wonder, which of her many scents
will her son think of, years from now
when he thinks of her
as we think of
Chamomile, cherry blossoms, and thistle
Jasmine, sage, and the salt of the sea

All the Words, 8/22/10

All the words will fall away
like tears of lead, dull, grey, useless
Things said to fill the empty spaces
to prolong the inevitable disconnection
to hang back for a moment
and keep her there, with me
though we are so very far apart
I can say these things to try and make her laugh
Say these things to show her I care
Say anything, something, nothing
just to have another second
For words have always come easy to me
feelings, not so much
They say it's the old wounds that will kill you
but it's the new wounds that make me flinch
Still, I say all the words
and they fall away
like tears of lead
dull and grey and useless

Feather, 8/21/10

A feather
Dancing in the wind
Carried by an updraft
dangling just out of reach
like Tantalus' apple
A taunting glimpse of beauty
caught in the breeze
swirling and swaying
to some unheard tune
Desire
Dancing in the wind

Tangled, 8/20/10

Tangled ...
(like the cord to my earbuds
shoved too quickly into my breast pocket
at the beginning of my shift
wrapped around the sunglasses
that fling themselves to the ground
as I retrieve my iPod at the end of my work day
plummeting to the asphalt of the parking lot
to shattering lense and bent frame
and angry curses at the unfairness of fate
and a journey home squinting in the bright sun)
... are the strings around my heart

All The Different Places

I think of all the different places we shared
So far from where I am now
A foreign land, a distant shore
The far side of this world
I think of all the different places we shared
You and I and our youth
Squandered and scattered and left behind
like hair in the drain after the shower
I think of all the different places we shared
and all the times we should have held to
but couldn't, because to do so we would have to know
And in knowing, we would have changed it
and then it would be lost
as it is lost
as they are all lost
The different places we shared

8/19/10

I will drink from the cup
and taste the sweet nectar
As I see that all knowledge is fleeting
This world, the next, tomorrow, today
All the hours and all the days
Might never be, never have been
or are yet to come,
But this morning, this moment, right now
as i sit here and drink from the cup,
and taste the sweet nectar
I'm okay with that
I'm okay
As I drink from the cup
the sweet nectar
A taste like joy,
though tinged perhaps
with other things,
but that's okay
As I drink from your cup
and taste the sweet nectar

FOR K, 8/18/10

Russian women, she says,
Learn young how to move their hands
She is a dancer
Grace granted human form
and as she swings and sways and flies upon the stage
Each movement plants a flag
and lays claim to another piece of my heart
She is a Traveller
moving through this world
from a place by the mountains
she thinks of as home
Her long fingers and slender arms
dance in a way I've never seen before
Russian women, you see
Learn young how to move their hands

8/17/10

Another Tuesday morning
up before the sun
lights from the development
across the canyon
glitter like a constellation
changing a scar into something of beauty
by the absence of the day
And my eyes search the indigo sky
for a last glimpse of Venus
my constant companion
an old wound
made lovely by the absence of the day

His Silent World, 8/16/10

His silent world
Who is to say it's any less
in its absence of noise
Does his mother's heart beat
any less
as she holds him while he sleeps
His head on her lap
Her love all around
Does he feel it any less
for the lack of sound

The Poet, 8/15/10

See the poet, hard at work
grumbling and scribbling and drinking his tea
In his pajamas for two days straight
his hairs a mess, he needs a shave
most people call it loafing
but the poet is hard at work

Raven, 8/14/10

Raven in the parking lot
Saunters about as he looks for food
Glances in my direction
and I swear, he nods
Two creatures
Both clad in black
Acknowledging each other's existence
And then he flies away
O to have such wings
O to fly away

8/13/10

An old song
picked out on a borrowed guitar
my fingers stiff, calluses gone
by hands know what to do
and no thoughts are needed
I sing the words
in a low throaty voice
to an old song
as I play a borrowed guitar

ALL THIS AND THE WORLD, 8/12/10

I have stood at the edge of the world
and looked south
Tasting the antarctic wind
And I have wandered the Savanah plains
and heard the lion’s roar
And I have rested on sandy beaches
while the waves tickled the shore
climbed mountains as the cut the sky
sharper than any blade
I have done all this and more
I have seen all this …
all this and more
all this and the world
I would give to you

THESE DESERT HILLS, 8/11/10

I walk through these desert hills
beside a highway
In the heat of the day
Here now, but not inside
Inside, I am in a cool place
an old place,
Sitting in an outdoor cafe
in the shivering cool of a drizzling day
on a cobblestoned street
with you
Drinking cheap Spanish wine
huddled in our tattered elegance
warm only in our closeness
and our secondhand coats
You, ageless beauty, still young
me, fading fast to some lesser thing
We would talk of art, words, and music
drinking cheap Spanish wine
on a cobblestoned street
in the drizzling cold
But no,
I am here, in these desert hills
and I have no idea where you are
in some outdoor cafe?
on a cobblestoned street
drinking cheap Spanish wine
with the man you love?
Perhaps so
And I am in these desert hills

8/10/10

See the girl about to fall
Dancing on the wire of her desperation
Falling, to shatter in a thousand jagged shards
that cut my feet and pierce my heart
And all the best intentions, all the pretty words
cannot put back together
the girl about to fall

Irises, 8/9/10

Irises
covering the foot of your bed
in the soft warmth of your down comforter
as we awake in the morning
Irises
Bought by me for you
but brought to us both
in the night
by the small yellow cat
who lay nestled
in irises
and the soft warmth of your comforter
as we awake in the morning

8/8/10

I would make you my religion
and worship at the temple of your body
Taking communion from your lips, your breast, your thighs
I would die in you
and in dying live again
To die a thousand deaths
each more ecstatic than the last
All other women will be a heresy
A blasphemy to what you are
False idols, profane, lesser deities,
and I a disciple to your beauty
an apostle to your soul
Though I should burn forever
Burning would be paradise
to be with you

HER LAUGH, 8/6/10

She laughs over the phone
I used to live to make her laugh
Maybe that was the only thing I was ever good at
Except for making her cry
But now she's laughing over the phone
at something I said
Something that jumped into my head
and out of my mouth and across the distance
to her Bluetooth as she navigates the 5
And I think of all the times I made her laugh
It was when things were best
And I ask myself Is this love
This thing we share
Or is it what is left after love
Is it a monument to foolish endeavors
or just a mediocre tribute band
to something great
But I can still make her laugh
I used to live to make her laugh

8/5/10

She is the whirlwind
dancing across the Painted Desert
She is desire made flesh
slipping away with the tail of the night
She is the wayfarer's dream
as he falls beside the road

8/1 to 8/4/10

8/1/10

The curse of a romantic nature
is to seek beauty
in the ashes and the dust
The blessing is
to sometimes find it
even when it isn't there

8/2/1o

Dawn
In my youth only seen as the end of the night
As a challenge to be faced in the hours
between last call and someone's bed
A finishing line to the rush and the heat
to be confronted with red eyes, sallow skin,
and designer sunglasses
It was a goal to be crossed
without thought, a temple to my follies
For then, my battles were yet to be fought

Dawn
Now seen as a beginning
A lover's kiss upon the neck of the day
And if now, I have no worlds left to conquer
the heat and the rush diminished
Yet the desire remains untouched
The want and the hurt
A different kind of longing
or perhaps the same
but expressed in a new way
How could I not love the dawn
as an ending or beginning

8/3/10

She is the shadows
in a film noir
The mist across the street lamp
on a London night
She is the mystery
that cannot be solved
The question unasked

CORNY, 8/4/10

He was once so strong
He stood taller than the sky
His voice roared like profane thunder
Now, I tower over him
His arms and legs are so thin
And his voice speaks in low grumbles
though still profane
But he taught me how to see the world
He gave me art and soul and hope
He loved always and does still
And without him
Without him I would be lost
Or more lost than I am
And in my mind
He is still so strong
and he stands ...
... taller than the sky

7/22/10

In over my head
For I am drowning
in the cool cool water

7/23/10

The moon,
Two days after full
Pale in the light of morning
Framed between two date palms
Above an empty parking lot
Another day
Fading and falling
In the growing light
A chaste lovers' dance
the sun newborn
The dying moon
Two days after full
Passing glances as they part
Another day

7/24/10

What will fill this emptiness
Whose name will I say
When at last I fade into that good night
Where will I look if not to you
How do I carry on
Why do I miss you so much

7/25/10

A hot dry day
The country scent of my youth
returned to me here,
in this different place
Like hay and ragweed, sage and something more
But until now,
I never fully appreciated
the cool of the morning
And don't have the words to say
How I miss the mist in the morning sky

7/26/10


A year later and I am still lost
How can it be that I was your low point
and you were my high
You ask why I hate him so much
and I say I don't, it's just ...
Just that he's not good enough for me you challenge
Oh darling, I respond
The list of men I don't think are good enough for you
is longer than the list of my regrets
and at the top of that list
the pinacle, the peak
is my name
A year later, and still ...
...I am lost

7/27/10

Where I am now
Might not be the end of the world
but you can see it from here

7/28/10

Like water
Dribbling through the cracks and holes
leaving a puddle on my heart
Like dry ice dropped in a glass of water
filling my eyes with fog
Happiness
like all things transitory
comes and goes on a whim
but is always welcome
for an interlude
a matinee
on a quiet Saturday afternoon

19 weeks, 7/29/10

Sober
or something like it
Not drinking, at least
Though I am still under the influence
of all the things
that led me to drink in the first place
I only wish she would call

7/30/10

A father and son
kicking a soccer ball
in the alley below
while mariachi music
fills my ears
And I think
that's pretty good for now

Haiku 7/31/10

I dream of your kiss
O to die between your lips
but woe to live on