Autobiography

Journaling keeps me

humble and human

            when reread
       post-change
in perspective—

    a snapshot of me

proving that I can’t be

        in the moment

one purely objective.

It's a drip pan for ink

that happens to leak

           from cracks

in an imperfect heart
                  and when
read again

reveal who I was then

as well as how fragile

          we are.

Lonely Hipsters [Redux]

So many, so lonely

perched in public

earbuds in

dressed to the tens

paperback in right hand

cigarette in the left

silently begging

to be noticed

but not realized

by another human

as sarcastically original

deeply flawed

apparently frugal

and brilliantly refined.

Backpacking Realism

It's like the sky fell in the water

now it ripples 'round my feet

as they swell, and I think
    and grovel and stink

in a thin crust of salt
and premium DEET

I ogle at more rocks and trees

that line majestic shore

as though I didn't see enough

of this the day before

and barely smile

because even my face

is feeling mighty sore.

Social Security III

Why is it through prayer
that hearts bring to bear
the verses that look least
like scripture?

Social Security II

Money exists as a number
Credit,  a number in red
Time's but for money or slumber
And without both, you are dead.

Social Security I

Brick is no match for the hammer
Wood's up in smoke with a match
Glass stands at the ready to shatter
Yet we have faith in a latch.

The Fringe of Faith

Shadows dance wildly
      with demons perceived

on the edge
                   of impenetrable darkness
      between

     what we choose to ignore

  and decide to believe.

To Resurrect the Butterflies

If I could purchase
      a syringe
          of emotion
there have been days
    when I would.
Compassion
        elation
and loving
   sensations
that I would feel
        more
if I could.

Hipsters

So many
        so lonely

perched in public
    earbuds in

dressed to the tens

      paperback
  in the right hand
cigarette 

    in the other
silently
     begging

        to be noticed

but not realized

     by another person

just as perfectly
     flawed

and brilliantly
     refined.

My Mind

Irony of ironies
    my one-track mind
  on an infinite
        meandering  

   m o n o r a i l

with its vigorously
     variable
  interest rate
stopping often
to smell one rose
        or lilly
                 or dandelion
    at a time
it can't see the forest
     for one tree
  or the tree
      for the wind
  or the wind
      for the cold
  or the cold
      for my coat
  but longs deeply
   to understand
                   them all
   thinking

      deeper

       than 
 
       roots
 
blessed contemplative
             cursed curious
. . . . . or do I have that backwards?

  want a taste?
    go to a circus
  in a neck brace
and blinders.

Think

The more we understand,
the less we demonize.
That is love.

Intersection at Midnight

Trickle
     trickle
little storm drain
    river dance
of the Emerald City
     Fir fingers
  air-piano
      overhead
as the sidewalks
glisten green
      yellow
   red.

Poevolution (or Stale Passion)

It seems every few years
      that I find
a stash of old
   scrawlings
of mine
       and marvel
How silly I was!
But also
     how wise
         I've become
Then probe
      for a pen.

Aggression Perception

One man's meekness
    another man's timidity
one man's humility
    another man's weakness
a man's congeniality
    to another is passivity   
but to a woman
           it can vary
 by the hour.

Facebooked

What a grand mess
  we’re in
     slavery’s not dead
we are rented
   not bought
        and wander
where lead
    by pop culture
 sports
the thirst for more
      money
   status or fame
each bear
 has his
    honey
plugged-in
     to the web
      we’ve been wrought
pseudo-social
   writhing
 in loneliness
 with 300 friends.

Lonely Thinker

Loneliness
can  be
   beautiful
time
for a thinker
      a poet
to painfully
 pour
    soul
      deep
into fault-lines
of the world
      with
 no one
to point out
  my own.

Exotic Business

 A five-man
        congregation
seated for dinner
One barks
   Asianese
into an I-phone
Two fat white hosts
     try to be funny
A lingual cross-pollinator
              murmurs and smiles
     awkwardly
Number five's eyebrows
        rise
Humor
         drowns
in translation.

Aging

I sensed the slightest
      apprehension
   in my heart
 the other day
       regarding learning
      something new
but I fought that thought away
I'm only thirty-one
   and must resist
      getting old.

Bacon

              What is bacon

          but a ripple

          of love?

       A gristle 

  and fat wave

     saturated

          with salt

     peppered 

to perfection

 applewood 

    smoked

   best seared 

       on cast iron

      to a blackened 

          red    crisp

        and blissfully 

      munched.

Above the Light

Through the warm jet stream
Of an old kerosene lamp
Walls become curtains.