White Houses

When someone lives

both near

and far

from your heart—

where do you go,

where do you start

to make sense

of that sense of loss,

that sense of time

passing like a train

past white houses

they have sat

and waited,

sat and, sat…

I see Paul in a fresh tuxedo and his bride in a gown

and I laugh:

how could this idiot get to be this “happy” before me?

Bullshit.

How’d this boy once a man cut me out of his social fabric

and still get the chance to be walked down the aisle?

Shit…

men are socialized that way:

the give and take, the call and response.

Somewhere in my heart, I missed you, Paul.

I missed all of you.

But finally, I am waving goodbye…

 

A throw back in many ways. Thank you, Vanessa Carlton: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SM3fEJyPrrg

 

February 28, 2019

Hugs

A huger

of the mind,

a huger

of the soul–

“find that out about your surroundings”

who is who?

I have a friend

who does both–

take care of yourself,

I need to connect

on that deeper level

I am grateful

to have found a match,

to find when I am not looking,

to sing when I am not sung to.

Hollywood is a trick of the eyes

tell me you are more human than the next

“She ain’t lookin’ for love”

no shit, fool– you are white as fuck

and don’t realize it, there is a difference–

watch the children run

and know that spaces are spaces

and home is home

and know it is different for everyone.

Now my friend–

they hold me,

steady me,

validate my existence

just by meeting my mind,

my soul,

right where they are.

 

A stream of consciousness reflection about my best friend who, while not big on physical hugs, supports me in the ways I really need…all while I listen to shitty rap music (and quote and complain about it) on a long car ride…

 

February 25, 2019

Oh, heart

How many ways can a heart break?

How many ways can it be seen?

 

It’s different than being watched–

that’s what they teach us

(that’s what I’ve learned, anyway).

 

They are watching me, all of them:

walking, sitting, eating, drinking,

readying themselves

to be the same animal I am.

 

But they don’t teach us that.

Animals?

What animals?

 

Do squirrels know a broken heart?

A lost friend, cousin, partner,

hopeful wanna-be?

Do humans have a “special”

bone in their bodies?

 

Back to heart break, then.

 

One way, friendship.

You make excuses.

You give them the room they need to hurt you

because you love them, and so they leave you

(congratulations on your wedding–

your dress was snug, but otherwise alright.

P.S. I don’t know how to forgive you).

 

Sometimes, you hurt them, friends.

Sometimes, you don’t know how or why.

Letter to future self (heck no, past self):

communication is a measure of maturity.

If someone won’t talk to you, it’s not your fault.

Go find someone that will, and send your love

to the quiet one. Fuck them, but love them anyway.

 

And then there was the time you fell in love with her

anyway, the time you learned that it was possible.

The world of love is not only “he’s” and “she’s.”

That is good.

 

And then you look behind that crevice in your heart’s

third chamber and you see all the “he’s”:

the high school acquaintance, the high school sweetheart,

the best friend. You see the quiet, lonely college boy

in the body of a man, the head-one-size-too-big gentleman

who was not so gentle, took a plane to Berlin

and never called again. You see the stupid in-betweens

who you never really cared for, who sunk you down

slowly, slowly,

and the one you learned from for a year,

but still kind of reminds you of Arnie.

 

And then there’s you.

The perfect face. The perfect hair.

The perfect laugh. The perfect stare.

All the perfections of a momentary crush

that don’t seem to shake off.

 

You’re just the next one to break my heart.

 

I don’t want you to, though. It feels too good

thinking of you. So I’ll keep the talking to a minimum

in my head, save it for next time I see you and make up

another story of how I’m not good enough,

of the ways your perfection (I know “there’s no perfect,”

but you still mesmerize me)- could never consider

looking my broken hearted way.

 

But you don’t know how I feel, do you?

Why would you?

I’ve known you for 2 years

but have felt this for 2 months.

 

It never makes sense, remember?

 

Because humans are not special.

Because no one is watching.

Because we’re all just trying

to find someone,

some one,

to see us.

 

Titled inspired by/owed to: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tqvuydbEv10
September 30, 2018

Trees

My back

is strong

like a piece of bark

it has its edges

but it is stable,

it stands tall–

it is stillness

and silence

and me.

 

These elements

of control

have never been

my friend.

 

Illusive fears

of loosing

a self

that I had forged

by lack of force

the word loss–

I could write odes

to loss

and sonnets

to loss

and haikus

to loss

and I would still

remained

lost

in the same sentiment

 

Who am I?

 

Where do these attachments

leave me?

Where did I acquire them?

 

Did death bring up something

deep inside of me

that always needed healing?

 

An unknowingness of stability,

the entrance of doubt?

 

I am here, writing,

wondering,

thinking back to trees with hearts

written in their sides.

 

October 8, 2016

An Empty Space

There’s an empty space inside you

that no one else can steal

 

There’s an empty space inside you

and, I assure you, it is real

 

Curl up with tea and blankets

open up a book or two

 

And relish the sweet nothingness

each empty page brings you

 

Nature has its pleasures;

nature has its pains

 

The one thing nature tells you:

we will never stay the same.

 

Out with soul and romance!

Rejoice in the heaven of song!

 

No one really knows you

No one can tell you you’re wrong

 

In this spacious nothingness

there’s no wanting, there’s no pride

 

Good and bad are memories

There’s no reason left to hide.

 

August 28, 2016

 

Home

Let them

fall out of me,

like rain,

these words on a page,

they are my blood

four drops in a row

you know

they’ll have me running,

forgetting,

wondering,

“What was,”

and, “What is…”

 

Let the open door

remind me,

remind you

that our hearts

are not just our house;

they are our home

and the rooms they have to fill,

honey–

they’re already filled with Love.

 

Happy Mother’s Day to all the beautiful mothers out there! 

May 5, 2016

About You

The day

I write

a poem

about you–

then

I’ll start

considering

love.

 

Until

then,

leave it

on my front step,

off with the paper

and my morning coffee;

let me read about it

in books,

watch movies

that make me cry.

 

I don’t know why

this song

keeps on singing,

over and over

in my head–

now remind me again

of that thing called love.

 

“A watched pot never boils,”

and well– a docked ship

never sinks

but land never did make

for a skilled sailor.

 

I will flip through these pages

and keep dipping my ink,

deeper and deeper

into my mind

until one day,

perhaps,

my heart

finds

its way

out.

 

February 24, 2016