What You Might Find

Long sleeper
Waking without a known destination
You know you've got to go though
And that you're moving vaguely
Toward your end
Between now and then is
Worry and trivia and maybe
Just a little more
Glory

Called In

It's hard to feel Texas
from here, vastly sinking
under endless rain, when you've
got your own shit going on
and have to employ all of your
resources to get through. It's relative
I guess, unless you're there where it's
absolute, like these young men
striving for another day clean
and to avoid sudden death,
while the roommate's dog
seems to have found it, and
the single male hummingbird
has moved on too.

Wheel

The pain of returning,
those words in my head
without context

I'd like to stay in bed
this morning but
there can be none of that

Some of the leaves are
starting to turn already
so maybe there's your context

Cool Nights

Autumn has been in the night air

And what scares me about it is that

Winter's close behind and somehow

Spring and Summer never really happened

But I'm making changes,

Small ones every day and

Something is starting to turn.

I''m getting out from under.

Something To Be Said For It

Falling asleep when

you're good and ready without

worrying about how you look or

smell and waking up the same way,

Some Regular Things

A hacker tries
to buy shoes out
of my checking account,
Boy, are you barking up the wrong tree.

Today the sun goes away, but
I've grown accustomed to that
And last night required blankets
Autumnal, meaning

The hummingbird will be off soon
With it's 5 to 9 years of life,
Its unbelievably long journey, and
Its three mighty ounces of fortitude

Action

For three months, at least
there has been a black economy
mailbox, mounting bracket and post
taped inside a cardboard box standing
in my unlived in living room.

Today is the day.

A Message

She told me I'd never really get over it
Twin flames
Fate, in the other's words
You'll run to the other side of the universe
And I'll wait, staked to this spot,
Focused on not chewing my leg off

Someone make me a soundtrack with
Elements of morose and
A driving beat that I can march to
Give me resolve and my suffering
Purpose that I can hear and feel
Both gritty and ethereal

All at once, tragic and
triumphant, suicidally depressed
and manically transcendent.
Let it drive me out to where
I can smell the coursing of my blood
And see with sharper eyes

This is our song,
whether or not

Sobriety

I had the habit
of looking for your car
in my driveway and
the physical sensation of
a nightly let down upon not
seeing it there. I noticed the
night before last that I don't do
that anymore.

Strife, She Said

But without strife
There's no reason to write

I woke this morning
After good sleep
Most of my thoughts were pleasant
Except for a lingering crazy dream
Which spoke to neglected familial
Relations, psychedelic music and
Catastrophe

Curs

The dog with its single note
mechanical bark sounds different
this morning.

There's pain in it,
and its nails on the floor
sound like anxiety.

These sounds reveal the fact
that we don't know what to say
beyond cursing at one another.

Rather Than Backward

Waking up and looking forward
to the work week,
to things requiring follow up and resolution,
maybe even to things I'd like to do.

This is new.

Chances

Try to slow the kid down
He tells you he's got no intention of stopping
Only came here because he needed a place to stay
And now he's conned his Dad into wiring 40 bucks.

He's got a long way to travel, back to his dealers
The game he knows, and he's got to walk three miles of
Heroin and crack to get to the train station.
Everything here is wired to kill you.

Why don't you charge your phone here?
You'll need it. Hang out. Eat some dinner with us.
Wash your clothes. Take your time.
Why not crash here? You can go in the morning.

He knows it's a stupid thing to do
Knows his tolerance is down
Knows his usual 5 grams a day will likely end him
He knows but he goes

Salivating, eyes fixed on the distance
Every second he's closer
To shutting down what's trying to
Swallow him now

He called this morning.
Still alive
Made a detox in the city late last night.
He calls leaving the stupidest and smartest thing he's ever done

Wants to know if he can come back
After detoxing through the weekend.
Yes, is the answer.
While you still have life, yes.

May We Be Well

No response
Not that you expected
Or even wanted one
It might have done you harm

I found sleep anyway
She's been good to me

Yesterday, the mediator
An agreement
The cost of a lost
Twenty years

Things are moving towards resolution
Soon you will remove these heavy coats
And step forward
Into new

You receive a list of suggestions for new bedding
Coach says to fix your bedroom
Then your kitchen
Then your life

Spanish

El Camino De Santiago
A single red Columbian thread
An assignment
The Secret
Green blanket and curtains
Of Jealousy
Rolled edges on the floor of
Your prosperity
There's a lot to think about
Here.

Out of Storage

Traces found and

the sound of her voice 

still does what it did before

and you're tempted to call her

or send a message but you don't

because of where she's living now

which is not in this world you're trying to

dwell in knowing you don't live there anymore

either. Killing time in the dollar store and the woman

in front of you is ordering balloons - three hearts and

a smiley face - and you talk to try to feel human asking her

if it's her little one's birthday. She smiles, says no, it's her friend's

birthday. She's in a coma. This lady's birthday is also coming up, Thursday,

and the two always celebrated together. They're not yet 25, you're thinking.

Happy birthday, you tell her, you're a sweet friend. Yeah, she says, thank you.

I found three voice mails in the trash left months apart. One was your easy open smile asking a favor with detailed instructions. One was your grief, the wrenching sound of a heavy heart. And the last one was your distance.

Weekend

Torrents introduced by a single
thunder crack and I am trying
to get on the road to Brooklyn
which seems tiresome, and my
head fills with black smoke, but
I get to the shower and there's lemon
in the soap there that helps to clear it

An angry
message from the present
and shortly after, one from the past,
joking while choking on struggles
all her own.

The rain is coming down hard, and
I'm going somewhere today.
I can't stay here just thinking bleak.
Take your shot, I'd say.
Take your shot if you have one.

The Quiet Here When It Isn't Trying To Kill Me

Grateful for good sleep and work
that feels worthy of your effort
but almost afraid to say it aloud
so convinced are your cells of
the presence of a jinx that makes
whatever you love or like or want
disappear.

What you don't like is hit radio
and televised sports, repetition,
and being stuck in a place where
you cannot get away from these things.

Shift

I am not the same
Some other door must have opened
And I walked or fell through it
Not better off or worse
Just different

Home

Picked her up at the ferry
leaving her summer island
duffle and suitcase sensibly packed.
On the ride home, we talk as two adults
and it feels like one of the best things
I know.

Remedy

What I guess I needed was an occupation
Something to busy my mind and absorb my energies
Something outside my own head