How to make the move…

When to make the move…

Should I make the move?

Just make the f’ing move.


When you need some courage to make moves…cause ya don’t know how other’s will react.


May 8, 2019

The Return

Finding God,


in more than the rings in the lake–

it is a revelation

and a relief.


It is an epiphany

and a journey,

quietly guiding you

hand in hand

into an uncertain abyss of certainty–

that you can always let go

and be certain of nature catching you.


June 3, 2014


Hard as a rock

I fall to my knees

and wish to never see

again the look

on mother’s face

when pleading at the table,

“I will follow you,

I do.”


To sink lower

into the ground

my face has discovered


awaiting the voice of a God

and some other man

I’d never wish to meet–

perhaps I’ll be him instead,

stand tall and relax

my shaky pores,

opening up into the all-florescent

light to omit a single,

unwanted presence:


pressing its face on my nerves.


August 19, 2014


This year, I have a goal to use one of my poems to transition (at least for one night) into spoken word poetry. Here is one piece I am considering.  It is one section of a much longer work on loss, uneasiness, and hope:

Yet, the thing is.

I’ve learned that we can learn

all we want,


Yet still become

what we want to become.

A being; what we are.


Yes, I have convinced

my mind of sinless tragedies.


In my chest resides

a suddle tension

that comes with a good cry,

a nervous yelp the dog

pleades to his neighbor

and I know.


I know that it can feel

like pain

When you feel nothing at all.


Nothing, in the sense that it is


(we think)

than what we used to know.


You do feel one thing, though.

Fast-moving, rushed.

Isolated in feeling,

incomplete in understanding.


Your veins burn, sometimes.


At others they stand still.

Breath can come in,

but skatters on ridges of the throat

mountains of doubt

on it’s way out,



For what seems to be an epiphany,

or at least empathy.


We knew all along, didn’t we?

That every problem came with an answer

Every breath a song.


We’re still here.

The song is playing–



I am layered.

What is old, is still surrounding me.

What is older, is building within me.

It is in my soul, eternal.


I accept the challenges of today,

the newness of tomorrow,

and the fact that shit can come my way

And has. 


That I hold it in my body

and in my head

and in my heart

That, too, has remained safe.


It is my red-blood-filled-memory-keeper

It is my life-still-renews-daily-seeker

It is the fact

that I know there exists

a spirt in knowing we exist.


We have value

even if it is an uncertain paradigm.

I make it a certain fact,

even when it makes me nervous.


Anxiety pulling itself out

needing more

to know

if I’m

doing this right at all.


June, 2014