Pen and Paper

The connection

of paper on pen

makes me want

to believe again

in life,

in love.

 

If two souls

can touch

so silently

and still leave

such a mark,

what is to come

of us, my dear?

 

I can deny fate

like sinners laugh at God;

I can wake at dawn

and see only moon, not sun.

 

We can wander forever,

looking for the ink–

the touch of pen on paper,

a love that saves, not sinks.

 

November 5, 2015

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Kitchen Sink

My brain is like a faucet

flow the memories

down:

what good, half-full moment

do you encounter down the stair,

past the front door–

away from me–

you creek towards a polaroid camera,

an album soon to be extinct

 

I want my mind to be only mine

to see,

only mine to use– to use it at will

to do well, to be real

honesty

can never be the complete story

when you enter a courtroom and swear

to God to say the truth, and nothing but

 

“The truth will set you free,”

so let it–

remember me

in fireflies over Aunt Mary’s backyard

and watching Uncle Richie with his cigar,

playing catch

and licking dinner off Thanksgiving plates.

 

As for now, I’ll walk you towards the door

and find the kitchen sink:

I’ll turn on the faucet, feel the cold,

and start cleaning.

 

February 24, 2015

Time

If something

has touched your soul

then let it–

movement

is melody

when it’s all at the drop

of a hat

my time is precious,

I will not waste it

on your wrath

give me pennies instead

to end

this little game

and move on

to a brave solider

on the library steps

and three deep breaths

to keep going,

sink,

swim.

December 14, 2014