Taking

a break.

Words of the Rose

bondage by chains of flight
sick of dying
good for a laugh
bad for a cry
floor creaks
window breaks the pain
shine of the son
rain of god
eat the dead
kill the fighters
maim the runners
break the strong
blind those who see
dumb the tellers
shoot
bomb
tear the torn
tear the eyes of the gods
escape the hands of the weak
the paws of the cats
the jaws of the dog
rise to conquer
fight the change
ride the winds of the mouths
months of cries
years of sighing to the lite
oh, for love and truth
oh, for life and trust
oh, for the words of the rose
red is the rose
rising to steal the eye
jealous are the weeds
cruel are the rains
or so they think
die the weeds
die down the rains
live on the rose
close at night
open for lite
protected by thorns of fear
beauty survives the beast
up with the god
clouds pass the sun
eyes cry to it
that burning thing
roses don’t cry tears for the sun

Passenger

man reading the paper left behind on the seat
how many times?
three lines of something
scrawled in blue ink
across the top of your hand
girls sharing headphones
rapping in Italian
elbow in my side every time the woman next to me turns a page
the next station is Waterloo

Where Is the Quiet Man

where is the quiet man
the thoughtful man
the man who will walk by my side
who will stand by my side
who will hold me when I’m lost
who will know when i need to be alone
but not lonely
where is the man who will remind me that i don’t need him to be happy

Unpublished (2015)

I want kind and gentle love
Missing me love
Waiting for me to wake up love
Merry Christmas love
I’ll drive the rest of the way love
I’ll be there love
You make me laugh love
I bought you socks love
I’ve got it love
Wear my sweater love
I made you dinner love
Champagne in bed love
Game Night love
Broadway love
Vintage love
Dance Band love
Fancy dress love
Midnight Mass love
Head on your shoulder love

Instead, I have you, love

Observation of a Rock Star

how does it feel to be that cool
to walk with such confidence
in a body well rehearsed
to move only how you want to move
in clothes that on a lesser human would hang
like dead skin
like the skin on the soul of a poet
like the skin you’ll wear one day
when you are no longer a rock star

tell me in your language
how does it feel?

Sat Here

man talking to man
woman talking to woman
black talking to black
brown talking to brown
white talking to white
me talking to myself