Sleep and I

September 10, 2012

The sun goes down
and chemicals rage,
Sleep and I
are fallen casualties
of the war they wage.
I fill notebooks
then tear them up,
page by page.
I only half believe
the thingsĀ I have said,
but it keeps me awake
thinking of the things
I never would.


Words

October 23, 2008

words have echoes
our common bond,
upon history’s lips
the great thinker’s thoughts
are a romantic’s kiss;
words have voices,
gravestone epitaphs,
or initials carved to a tree,
ringing through hallways
and whispering through the sheets;
words have tastes,
sweet as golden summer
and cool as Robert Frost.


The Poet and the Paper

October 20, 2008

sometimes i write
because it isn’t worth
the heat of my breath.

but the poet never forgets.

sorry ears, move on to hear
and an angry voice will soften
but the paper stroked by pen
is permanently encumbered
by whatever mood or muse
has taken the author.

the paper never forgets.


Stop Writing

October 16, 2008

love has no authors,
only readers,
and we just follow along;

you have to stop trying to make it happen
to see,
its been happening all along;

you have to stop writing
to read,
and never be ashamed if you happen to read it wrong.