Let these words travel up your thighs There is no goodbye between soul ties You might be tongue tied But my tongue hungers to taste you A poem can touch more than the soul It can touch you softly, right where you need it the most Make love to what your ghost wrote Out of your head and into your body There is beauty There is hope Take it all in And if it’s too deep I’ll go easy We should be in bed, your body intertwined with mine My head should be between your legs Digg

Is today a sick day or a vacation day? . . . I can’t remember. Either way, I’m hiding. . . Election day? Doesn’t that happen in November? . . . Oh jeez. Already? What a heavy year. These elections won’t change anything. No, not for me. Politics never seems to change anything in my life. Do they change anything for you? . . . Hairless monkeys running a different kind of zoo. I’ll vote for whoever brings her back to me. Is that a thing? . . . Well, they should make that a thing

Hello moon It’s good to see My you’re big tonight You almost light up the night Is she looking up at you, too? Say hi to the tides for me They washed me out to sea once But spat my back out Say hi to her, too You always are, aren’t you? Right here, yet, so far Do you see us? If so, how’s the view? Do you see us like we see you? A distant thing Floating in space What’s it like to be you? You seem alive I bet you are For the briefest of moments You are in the sky with the sun

Of course there's a man in a Rod Kimble costume at the coffee shop this morning. It’s 9:00am—why the hell does he need to be in costume already? That’s too much Halloween. Life stings. Life is mocking me. And it isn't funny. The natural ironies in life can suck my balls. Last night, I went to a bar for dinner and drinks and a burlesque show was going on. So many beautiful women in costumes, which I suppose is okay; and a few dressed like strippers, which I also suppose is ok

Here's a peace offering A white flag And some bread to break Here’s a plan stapled to a man Eternity in a grain of sand A fading map And some cookies to bake Here’s a mistake A love letter And an earth quake Everything shakes when you leave Everyone else goes Everyone knows what we’ve seen And no one but us believes Here’s a song A dog And a riddle or two Here’s me Here’s you And here’s everything we’ve been through Here’s everything I didn’t hear And all of our biggest fears

This'll never reach her and pain is the best teacher so blast this one through every speaker until it's known in the soul of every wolf and blackbird Alone is the ego, cold and beaten broken are the bones that help a man stand but the indomitable human spirit rages demanding a final stand Life's not over, just the love is Love exists in everything Good eyes, young man we had almost forgotten Love exists in everything Blind is the man following

the Gods cry today and that's the rain that pelts the face a love they believed in is in ruins two souls are defying their will cutting their ties to fate walking alone, missing the other side of their soul stepping over puddles hiding under blankets blocking out everything with blackout curtains the Gods were certain they'd make it the two were their favorite a true love story a beautiful thing two broken people meeting and healing staying and forgiving learning and

Friends and family had gathered. It was evening and the last light from the sun was fading. “Does anyone know why they called us all here?” someone asked. “No idea.” “They said there would be food? Where's the food?” In walked the bride and groom, a cold wind escorting them. “What's this all about?” a young man, with blonde hair, blue eyes and a sad smile, asked. “It's a funeral,” she said, in all black. “Who died?” “Our relationship,” he said, also in all black. “You two

I could be by your side tonight But we had a fight And now I will miss my flight And stay home, alone We couldn’t forgive Unable to begin again We struggle to live My arms could be wrapped around you tonight But we remember our worst nights And not the days full of love and understanding Your hurt You’ve been hurt You’re bleeding You’ve been bleeding But in my arms Is the healing From your eyes I finally realize What an ass I’ve been I don’t want this to

I am sorry. I wish there was more inside of me other than that right now, but there isn’t. The days pass and I try to make the best of them. They’re hollow without you in them. I am empty. And I am okay. Why? I don’t know. Maybe I am in denial? This time it was my fault. For the last week I have felt the urge to defend myself, which in hindsight is incredibly cowardly. I wanted to blame the booze. And I wanted to blame the drugs. And I even wanted to blame you, that being the

Picking up the pieces and carrying on because we have to, don’t we? What else is there for us to do? . . . Only, I can’t stitch myself back together like this. No, not like I was. I sew on my eyebrow underneath my left eye, and my right eye sits too high. (Probably shouldn’t be stitching myself back together when I am this high . . . but I’ll try.) The legs connect to the shoulders, and the hands get stitched where my ears usually sit. I sew my hea

Vampires only perspire around garlic It’s true I was one once Yep, that’s right, your boy was a vampire I sucked the time and attention out of a beautiful woman I drained her life If she had a health bar—like they do in video games—hers would be almost empty Kissing her neck, I stole her summer I didn’t bite her, though No, I love her soul I couldn’t trap her here with me So, I let her go I drained her of most of her warmth, but I didn’t turn her She’s still a

She fell in love with the ghost who haunted her house At first All she could do was feel him A chill A squeak A blinking light And the more she started to believe he was real The more real he became Soon, he was leaving messages for her on her bathroom mirror And notes in the pockets of her winter jackets This ghost wrote poetry and songs for her He kept his eyes on her, making sure she was safe Eventually, she started to feel as if her ghost was really her g

Tell me, why does this mirror look like an effigy? Those are the eyes of a zombie, they’re not mine. No, no, mine shine, don’t they? . . . “Who’s the symbol and who's the human?” I ask questions to the wind hoping someone will answer them, but there’s no one here, just an effigy trapped in a mirror walking through a neighborhood where the trees are listening, I speak to them, telling stories about becoming a zombie “Dead thoughts dig g

“Writing is a spiritual experience,” the old writer with a big ugly mustache said. Oh brother. “It is a journey inwards to the unknown self.” Schmuck. “The sacred tradition of stories keeps us alive. It teaches us and gives us hope.” What should I get for lunch? . . . I can't do pizza again. Hmmm . . . This is the problem with free will, you actually have to make complicated choices you might regret later. “Words have real power. Everything is energy. And creativity lives

Wednesday or Sunday? What day is it again? . . .Thursday?? Huh. Strange. Well, what’s the date? . . . What?? Already? Sheesh! What happened to summer? . . . Well, someone stole my summer this year, I just can’t remember who . . . Yesterday it was May and you say today is October 30th? No way. . . . Have I been dreaming? Did I sleep my summer away? Wait, what’s the year? . . . Oh shit. That would make me 44. I feel old. I used to feel bold. Now I am cold and old. What happene

One day you won't be able to move like this . . . I remind myself as I workout. The scene from Rocky when Adrian walks into the arena at the end of round 14 and sees Rocky, barely alive, reaching for the ropes, pulling himself up to his feet, while his trainer tells him to stay down, makes me cry sometimes. I wish it was her and I. In the movie, Rocky stands up and waves Apollo Creed in, taunting him. And he almost wins; but we aren’t at the movies, and my lady is an

“Humility and forgiveness are the antidotes to shame.” Pulling out my hair Holding in a silent scream Tears rushing down in a steady stream I can’t breathe Drowning in a sea I can’t see, only feel This can’t be real This can’t be over She meant everything to me Freezing Shivering This is not where I belong Holding on Holding my breath Terrified of what comes next Guilt drags me down Pride on display, like a crown Fear eats at the flesh Until there is nothi

It happened again. Another active shooter, this time at an elementary school. It was only a few years ago when Ethan shot-up Safeway, killing two people. But this time it was an elementary school . . . This community is grieving. This community is bleeding. The richest city in the richest state is broken. Schools should be safe. They say he, a 16 year old kid, shot through the locks with a shotgun. I’ve worked at Silver Rail Elementary School several times; I’ve worked at alm

I think I’ll love you forever which is a bit of a bummer since you aren’t here and since forever sounds pretty long born to be broken always left hoping better days will rise with the sun why did it have to be this way? I know this is my fault and I can’t ask for help the world around me melts and I can’t ask you for help my pride is telling me to hide love in disguise, dressed as fear turning slowly to face the shadows you belong here I think I’ll love you forever and not j