Poetry · Writing

Transit

Wheels crank on the steel

plane moving vicariously from

city to city. 

Passing city lights

landmarks, young couple

in a park, barking like

the golden retriever

around their wrist. 

Night came faster

then a stop.

The street lamp

captured

an elderly couple, 

walking together, 

to their next stop. 

Poetry · Writing

Scar

You can’t see it,

if you look closely. I know,

it doesn’t add up

two plus two

shows the fire the ignites

the giant powering my time

like a six-hour deadline.

You couldn’t see it under

a magnifying glass, look closely

don’t blink,  it’s not there.

I believe you when you say

you want to patch things up,

but there is nothing to patch,

the patch powers my tank to move

the will to wake,

my will to move.

Move the being to make

the dream

the night creates.

 

 

Poetry · Writing

Monster Hunting

Believed to be a better

from the worst that passed through

like webs to a monster.

Bitter to your touch,

needing that touch,

sweet to the lips.

I need that monster.

Sweeps the terror into her

mouth and carries it away.

I love that monster.

Teeth barring on my shadow,

howling under the sheets,

digging her claws into open back.

I want that monster.

 

Poetry · Writing

Weekend Getaway

I found myself sitting

waiting for each note,

like the drum breakdown,

In the Air Tonight.

Stringing the guitar

the birds chirped outside

singing about my weak grasp

on my own humanity.

They can hold a note,

I’ll give them that.

There throwing

it in my face.

Close the blinds,

pray for the power

to control my own

and finish what they started.

Poetry · Writing

Doubt

I heard them creeping at night,

the monster underneath your bed,

you saw it in the mirror

in your coffee in the morning

in the eyes of your lover you left in bed.

Its crippling;

but you can’t park in that close spot

someone won’t push you around

this time.

The monster follows you around at work

hates the clothes on your back

the food that you eat

the women your loving

the women your fucking.

Wish you could tell this beast to fuck off

pick on someone your own size,

but it doesn’t exist.

Poetry · Writing

Last Last Inning

The stadium closed quickly,

the game was still in the 9th,

yet it was ball four for me.

Take a walk, I heard

had one too many, I heard.

Her light was still on,

watching the game on

the tele. First out, two to go.

Her husband pulled into

the driveway.

Hidden swish in the right

breast pocket, warm

enough to forget the cold

concrete.

Second out.

Home in time,

for a cold one.

Take a walk, I remembered,

the punishment I surrendered.

Radio signaled it in, out three.