Recent writing

Stupid Moon

Stupid moon
Doesn't care that you're not with me
It's going to go on being beautiful anyway
Just like you

Gifts

I never gave her a sunrise
Our love was always in the twilight
Never the dawn
Yet I promised her all my sunsets
and so it is,
But I think I'll keep the sunrises
At least for now

The Transit of Venus

I remember waking up in the morning, the hours before dawn, looking out your bedroom window, to see the morning star, Venus, as she moved across the sky. You would sleep beside me, unaware of me, or the star. I would watch, captivated, as she slowly made her way as the light would come, to the point where I wouldn't have been able to see her at all, if I hadn't known she was there. Even then, I knew that though I loved you and you loved me, we were no longer in love, that what remained was only a shadow, a comfortable, safe place where we could linger for a while. The difference between loving and being in love was never so clear as I watched Venus slowly vanish in the coming of the dawn, so clear to me, since I had watched her from the darkness, but invisible to everyone else, in the diffuse light of morning. We had loved and been in love once. Now, we held on to feelings we no longer felt as a shelter from the storm, frail and tempest tossed. You slept, as I faced a new day, watching Venus, the morning star, vanish into the growing light of the sun, but knowing, even then, that she was there, unseen, a remnant or memory, of what had been, what could have been, what would never be again.

Regret

I stand in the lost light of your love
Forever in the shadow of the dying of the day
Only feeling its warmthA fleeting moment passing
A cloud moving across the setting sun

Silhouette

A silhouette
moving in the red light
in rhythm to a generic bar band
A skinny girl with long legs and sad eyes
For a moment the center of the world
sad eyed and long legged
a skinny girl
in rhythm to a generic bar band
Moving in the red light
A Silhouette

An Absence of Rivers

In my life I have always felt an absence of rivers
For it is rivers that we follow
To the sea
Yet I have felt them
Not in their wide expanse
or savage grace
Not in their endless movement
their calm depth
but still I have felt them
if only in their absence

Welcome Home

Wet sand clings to the spaces between my toes
and to the wet cuffs of my jeans
as the low waves, soaking
wash away the evidence of my passing
As the breakers crash against the stones of First Jetty
I taste the salt against my lips
The spray stings my eyes
As they look to the line of the hills
Engraved across all that makes me who I am
The horizon I know so well
have always known
Will know on the day of my death
The waves, the hills, the stones
They whisper in my ear
"Welcome home"

Untitled

She smiled,as did I, and for once, the world seemed like everything was okay. Who would have thought the keys to the universe were to be found in a smile, but there they were.

Honesty in Bars

He believed in total honesty in bars, if only to make up for the lack of it everywhere else in his life. Not that he was one of those sloppy drunks, who would pour out his life story to anyone unfortunate enough to sit on the stool next to him. He was never one who lost control, even in the worst of times, and drink had never really had a confessional effect on him.
No, it was more of a choice not to lie, rather than one to speak the truth. Of course, there was always silence, not saying anything at all, which was, in the end, his usual option. Still, it was a matter of omission, rather than commission, as far as the sin of deceit went for him, at least while sitting in bars.