This is a good place.
The ground is cold and puddled,
ice still skins the shady spots,
the sun low, but rising.
Tomorrow maybe,
or a week from now,
I’ll return to this very spot
and find it foreign
if I notice it at all.
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Cognitive Drift
To come awake in ice
and long for stillness,
one could sleep forever
blanketed in snow.
Careless
She cares too much,
I care too little,
there’s little I can add.
Call her if you care to,
or don’t—
It hardly matters
…much.
Lesser Fictions
In the absence of God
we make do with lesser fictions:
The names we give
and the sounds of our voice.
Forever Redefined
A quiet place waits at the end of passion,
rumored by the blind,
the last reward for righteous action,
forever redefined.
Bad Breath
Vent sweet fury
in a burst of halitosis,
fling “Fuck” at reason,
and revel in rage.
Us
“Who are they?”, we dare not answer,
they and we are much the same,
we, a name for claiming credit,
they, for when assigning blame.
All In
I tripped and tipped
my cards too quickly,
well before the call.
No bluff, no draw,
no cuffed-card option,
two plays remain
and I won’t fold.
Joy
I found my voice under a linden tree
where white dogs rolled in fallen seeds—
My eloquence, a simple smile
that spoke forever for a while.
Snooze
My alarm clock shrieks out
’till I slap it a promise—
“15 more minutes
and I’ll slap you again.”