Sun Through a Window

The winter sun through a window
paints the room warm
I've cut the cold in parts,
and it means more
felt between the panes and the past

Tired Highway

something happens in a week across the country 75 miles an hour and the windows up. city after city with the illusion of sleep, in the same hotel bed coast to coast. rest stop routines, dark circle eyes on horizon we're only chasing. that old dream of On The Road a little distant daily, maybe it only was a dream. maybe its the midwest. maybe all these years have burned the fortune. maybe I'm just tired.

All Too Young

i remember those days and the party cups, it was all too fun, we would never split up. we could never get hurt, we were all too young. in the days and nights with the boards out back, with the beers and girls, when we never looked back. when we toasted the moon and mourned with the sun, before we all grew up, before we'd ever get hurt, we were all too young. days and weeks where the streetlights swayed down the same old streets we were born and free, with the suburb sweethearts and American dreams.

A Plea of Pages

You simply turn a page, subtle, unassuming. Suddenly you’re staring back and shattered glass, there you are in the middle where someone else has said, and you have been there too, and all that page is you. Live there. As long as life. Soon it passes, in “Faithful and Virtuous Night”, I have been her too.

** I have been reading Faithful and Virtuous Night by Louise Gluck recently, the title piece drew this from me. Sometimes you turn a page and never know what is going to come out of those words, hers have struck, unexpected, and welcome.

A Life of Goodbyes

Live a life where the goodbyes are always Irish, and the warmth in your cold blue eyes is what they're reminded of when the sound of your voice strikes their mind, and the dramatic line of your smile sets in to surpass all questions of "Why?". Believe only in the chances you took, not the ones you had; breathe only heartfelt in reminiscent minutes.

It Started With A Song

it started with a song. from ancient to annuity, back before we knew at all. now in this glass reflections stain the places that we saw. left a mark in circles drawn concentric, and though clandestine times they knew me by, the center started small. now i am, then i was, and here we are memorials each dawn. the bleeding back prolific, the trials, tears austere. it started with a song and now they're all for here. so smile back, a while back, a toast to you and years.

Good Winter

I sit here solemn under skull & bones among these colors, caught by corner consciousness. in good winter wonder, love, what revolution must have held for us. in bottom bottles and pinprick baited breath, I struggle still to leave forever what's been left when only Christmas creaks could last.

Eager Sleep, Believer's Shore

such eager sleep i'm drawn, arms outstretched for dawn. we'll never reach, we'll never speak. the shore outlines the fall. in melted days before, arms outstretched i loved in all my worst and kissed in all my best so sleep for now and sleep forever melt along the shore. if we cold only speak the beach was just a moor.

Tapped

a vein that runs through me that still belongs to you, and when i tap that rush, that flood, that fools excuse...so only now i'll whisper still the truth that pours to chill; this place it taps a vein in me that still belongs to you.

Pale Horse Nights

but who are you in the dark? when all the world stops watching, the only voice your own, to reign on ghosts alone. born to bear the weight, the albatross, dare to sleep with whiskey on your breath, and flashes of sudden memorial from past loves and pressure on your chest. the path a sullen iteration in the form of regret and a self portrait, tired eyes and torrid stories hanging duly from your neck. when you lie alone where do you wander? to the future infatuated, the past in penance, or present times for preservation. stoned nomadic, for the minds a wily bastard on nights each pale horse rides.

Relationship Hymns

i can still hear the sound
and your smile in different shades.
that "christmas morning creak"
i thought i was ready,
but the song turned to blades
so back to where once began
for the spiral starts again.

Static In The Stars

home movies here, in memories on empty walls. these days are gone, we're moving on, the halls that lined these little lives, now haunted by the ghosts of mine. take back the coast and give me miles. no more static in the stars.

Best Friend Stranger

reckless endangered, on the other side of lives and all the stars lined intensity from birth to times. no star-crossed senses, they've all been bright aligned. good luck, good night my best friend stranger, love until the morning light. you know my flaws and all as candid arms have scrawled. i dove into you brief, extolled. lust in every language.belief.and always anguish.

Ether Angels

what past from this nostalgias' spun
what spoken words were mine
should i ever dare to ask,
what paradise i've bled and
crowned in sanguine eyes.
to escape, to find at last the lasting ride.