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Fears

I found this scribbled on the back of an application from years ago. It's my handwriting, but I have no recollection of ever writing it: A girl's heart is broken. "Slow down!" they call after her, as the ribbon fell from her hair. Leaping from stump to stone, the path behind she left it long ago. She tells herself she's flying. She croons, she crows and now the sun is dying. There's still time she says for one more song, but she's been gone for far too long. And as the light begins to fade she wonders why she's all alone. "Where have they all gone, these friends of mine? Why have they all left me? Don't they know a girl must have her time to grow? A girl must run and croon and crow." But in that moment she never stops - not one to think of what she's lost. She looks ahead as darkness gathers, never fearing what she'll find. A forest full of nothing left behind.
Recent posts

Not Yet Goodbye

It’s perhaps appropriate That the closest we ever come to knowing a person Is when we grieve at their loss. At last a blessed intimacy breaks Over the pages of my book In hot, sea-salt tears. I never knew you, and I never could. A task too great for anyone bound as we are to time Like slaves to the field Or saints to the slaughter.   Years later, When the memories of your last days continue to haunt me, I count myself lucky. I never said goodbye, So maybe it's fitting that you never left me. If I’m blessed with grandchildren of my own, Will the pain of this loss echo also in their hearts, And the hearts of those that follow? I can only hope for their sake it does. What is so broken in us That we spend our days Bleeding over the things we’ve already lost?

Winter Pear

The pale pre-dawn sky fractures along the horizon And the heavens spill their persimmon hues over the frost-glazed landscape. Even while leaves have long fallen, The fruit trees are flush with the gospel of birds. The apple tree flutters with an unfelt gale As the morning breathes with a new kind of life. Like the ashen streets of Pompeii, the garden lays frozen in time. Frost fingers reach greedily across the pond And snowdrops sing like crystal bells. Fog retreats from my bedroom window And the warm smell of orange peel and clove urges the day to begin.

Totems

I walk through the tall grass, Hat in hand. The fat bees are drunk with honey And the dawn light warms my face. The whole world is golden And it fills my heart with light. And yet I've found it wanting still To share with kindred heart in its regard. So when the moon begins to set Know in days that pass you by When cool wind blows And mist rolls in That you are not alone this time To see the beauty there that lies within.

The Bronx

You can smell things so much stronger when its hot out. Jet exhaust, garbage, and old taxi leather. If it's as hot as it is today you can almost taste it. I've never flown alone before, so after two hours on the train I think maybe I'll take it a few stops further. Maybe I can savor this freedom for a little while longer. Alone in the Bronx sweat rises from the pavement. It's hard to breath. I've talked to her almost every night. We shared our deepest fears with one another. Basked in each other's flaws. Marveled in the darkness at the bright images displayed on our monitors. Scattered pixels approximate her skin, her hair, her eyes - always looking down, never connected. I asked her to look at the camera - for that moment it felt like heroin. We took turns looking at the lens so that the other could get their fix.

La Malagueña

Golden liquid. The crackle of ice against glass. Polyrhythms set the tempo of the evening. Jazz is like tangy steel-cold cherries As they gush with salt and spice. The switch rocks backwards and Red hot, the tubes begin to glow. 1969: The humbucker twang Finds its home in tweed tonight. Patent leather shoes Keeping time himself at bay. And aught without a word - like the prodigal son - A wandering riff comes home. Like a weary levy breaks Applause becomes the room. For nothing quite turns a phrase Like steel and cherry hardwood.

A City by Night

I miss the darkness . Even when I close my eyes the world seems to find its way back in. Walking past the liquor store my brow is beaten by the caustic yellow hum of burning sodium vapor. A deep crimson sea recedes into the haunted lowlands of the cosmopolitan skyline. Everything is revealed to the waning curiosity of my tired eyes. A fistful of stars suddenly reminds me of my place among them. Catching my breath for a moment, I wonder just how thin a veil this truly is.