reads

___

poetry

a stream of words and rattling trains of thoughts going just about nowhere

P1010148 (2).jpg
DSC_6491.jpg

a

 

a friend of company, a son of solitude

a complex question, a simple answer

a coauthor of chance encounters

a writer lost for words (who stole this line)

 
 

Crowded One-Way Streets

 

Crowded one way streets are viciously viscous.

They’ve slowed me down for the longest time.

Their neon has left me colorblind.

Drifting down that main stream, I feel rough, and my inside turns sour with sorrow, bitter with disbelief.

On those bleak Tuesdays, when everyone wears muzzles and blinders, dreams are deported to perish in one-fits-all coffins.

Now leaves are falling to paint colors over grey,
and the wind picks them up, twirls them in a spiral dance, and soon the wind picks up, hurls them at those empty bodies.

But they stick to our soles most unconsidered.

No one dares to stop.
No one cares to turn.

​And yet the lord breeds more of us to populate more dull streets.

And yet we all smile when we reach the corner.

 

You showed up just in time to say goodbye

 

We met living in the moment, attached to nothing but loose ends. The sweet melody of potential found its way under the skin we shared, guiding our frail steps in the halls of pressure. Spinning so lost in our dreams about dreams, we forgot that the biggest dreams choose us. You showed up just in time to say goodbye, but the moment was as imperfect and good as any. If you ask me whether I mean it, I will tell you that I feel what I don’t know to be true. I will be there and then, where everything rhymes to see you grin at me in madness one more time. Holding on to each other’s fate, our fingers tremble most elegantly. It could all mean too little to remember often, or a kiss, or a frozen puddle of tears, but I like to think that days can mean more than years and that storms fan all the right fires to burn down all the wrong doubts that are too dry and dreary. Leave a little light on for that stranger in the dark. A spark will do really. May you punch, bleed, fall, fly, run, blink, scream, cry, suck, love, ache, dance, drink, sink, smash, blink, hum, kick, miss, fight, sing, tumble, break, write, and swim until we meet again.

 

May

 

May's weather may wither

and so may all else,

but no day I overstay

without spinning us back thither,

to that day in may,

do you?

DSC_0073.jpg
 
P1080333.jpg

Overcast

 

And as long as shadows overcast my path, I know of a star in the skies above the voices in my head and solid ground neath my jaded soles. And hadn’t I longed for the shade the more I had lived in the bright shallow sunlight, just as much as I curse it now, lying in the dark? So tell me what’s it gonna be, or better yet don’t tell me. I keep living blind, but not blinded for I fear certainty more than coincidence, more than a street paved with the shards of shattered dreams, more than an unlikely desire. I keep my eyes open without looking for something, keep longing without knowing better, keep desiring without loving, loving without appreciating, learning without understanding, torn like wild hearts parting. Smiling at my sadness, I’m hoping for another paradise to lose. Happiness flows through me like blood, like a torrent that loses itself in a thousand capillaries. And every now and then I wonder if I live life or if it is living me. But at the end of my days and nights I can feel nothing but gratitude without even knowing where to direct it.

______

shop

__

Like what you see? Get these and other images, digitally or in print:

licenses graphic4.png

________

latest

Show More

urban

North America

Bolivia

Uyuni / Traversing the Zig-Zag Road between Pain and Pleasure

Show More

essays

Window Worlds

different world, same life