the stars, the sea, and sleep.

Monday, July 13, 2015


Writing to pass the time
To let every mimed moment pass by,
Silently mine,
Writing on quarters to make change,
But this would never change anything.
Let me hold you like I stole you
With each glance to the left.
I spoke up but these words fall flat
On some subtle smalltalk about timing
Or how haphazard rhyming could turn my assets into cash
And burn a fire that could control you.
A tinny reflection of red and black light
Was a sea of sequins and close acquaintances,
Unbeknownst to me.
Refreshing and unsettling,
You are the living ghost of what I might have gotten right,
If I could fill the void between parallel lines
Stretched out too far.
And so much of a breath could unrest this house of cards,
But I would pull one every day
If it wasn't a race to get too drunk or be too broke.
The best bluff that I could sell you is the one I haven't spoken.
Gently pressed up against the wall,
I get lost in your rhythm and the whiskey on my teeth
For a whole lot of nothing, off-key humming, grounded feet.
This second pass of reality is a gravity I've had to fear
Now I'm not quite sure how it ever disappears.

Monday, July 6, 2015


Silent night. Mouth cotton dry.
A tinge of rust makes up this blood red sky,
Gunpowder suspended from the bets we'd made on parallel lines.
Here I was, standing on stilts, but pressed against flint and carbon.
Every spark was a tick that dissolved in smoky eyes.
Even explosions at eye level could not keep me level headed.
So sullen streaks hung soft lights in the summer sky
Of things that had started, but never ended quite right.

Silent night. Hands to your sides.
You take a step to the right, and let the moment pass by.
Lips left unpressed like a story never told
To say ghosts never die, they just only grow old.
Seven months, it seems, this yellow bird sang alone,
But merely inches from reality, you floated the idea to me:
What if it were okay to be weak?
Just cut out the blank spaces and let the ink breathe...

Silent night. Lost in your eyes.
Acquiescence that blessed the amber sky
Was a door that I held for a promise I could not
Was a breath on my hand and a warmth I'd forgotten.
So when I opened my eyes, these heights lost their luster
There were no more surprises - the cold bed left uncovered,
But still I beaded with sweat that stung like gasoline--
A short fuse and old sparks can only mean one thing.

Silent night. Swing low in time.
How we fall apart when we just want to collide.