if you could see me now

did you see me when I was falling?
how bright I shone?
how I spun while flailing
leaving a retinal trail
to move your senses
and draw you in
beckoning you
in to describe me
to inscribe your wishes
on my skin?
did you see the imprint I left
when I crashed
into your stone heart
resistant to ripples?
now I lie cold and dull
smoothed and overlooked
and watch the stars
waiting for one to crash at my side
and make eternity less lonesome
if only you would see me now



Rubble lines the shore
a rusty wreckage
wedged in the rocks
to make a perfect statement
about something I can’t name
If I go close enough
I can capture
the unlikely textures
the awkward angle
that distinguishes it
from the rubble
but I know the rocks in between
are bigger and more jagged
than they appear from here
I weigh the effort
against the potential
and measure the possible disappointment
still, I’m drawn in
without that pile of rust
there would be nothing
worth pondering here
so I bow to rust and time

wrong side

Never been much good
at looking on the bright side
seems I’m stuck here
on the wrong side of the moon
swooning under stars
dancing too far
to bring any heat my way soon
but I can see patterns
pulsing and bursting
burning pinholes in my head
I connect the dots
to form a plot
to get to this story’s end
but there’s so much space
and time is just wasted
searching for what is lost

really just about the state of this heart

here, there used to be
now great boulders
have been gouged
and loaded
and hauled away
in truckfulls
the rockface exposed
as salmon-pink flesh
under a scab
torn-off too soon
looks onto industrial debris
strewn like fishbones
after a feast

here, there is now
only a hole
into which nothing
can be imagined
that can give any solace

here, no one
can recall
what came  before
but it had to be
better than this

things just happen

I don’t know why I took that left turn. At first, I’d made this mistake often while thinking of other things. But it had been years since we’d moved a few streets over and the new route had long been automated.
Regardless, there I was on that old familiar street, where little but the size of the bushes had changed. Call it serendipity, chance, fate what you will, but they were all somewhere else. Nothing notable happened. I corrected my path and rode home.

back seat

I wanted to create
but I cleaned and arranged
and sat and listened instead
It’s less important
than others’ needs
when all is but in my head
Their words rang loud
and clear as signs
of a rail crossing up ahead
And what could I say
that could count in the swell
of a train speeding on its way
I’m a humbler fumbler
still trailing in the smoke left behind
An outlying liar sitting silent
lest I not count for much in the end
I’ve tried to sing and speak words
and spur others to take a chance
Leave what’s best for what’s true
─║eave what’s safe for what’s right
but I convinced no one

do not print these on your t-shirt

when all your firsts
have been coerced,
nostalgia is more bitter than sweet

sooner or later
all unrewarded behaviour
however good, will cease

if all endings
were new beginnings
no one would mourn them much

still I make the best
of the next best thing
though it never mesures up

perseverance is praised
only when it pays off
else it’s harassment or waste

now all I want
is to be surprised
but in a really good way

fine words

Those were perfectly fine
last words chosen to define
the space between
where we were
and are
and won’t be
But there were words
I swirled in my head
and rolled in my throat
never reaching my tongue
to pass from my lips to yours
words swallowed back to emerge
from my fingers
imprinting stains on my heart
on their way to a page
that remains as indifferent
to them as you


you pulled away
like a loose thread
you had weaved your way through all my thoughts
billowing my heart
with enough will
to move me
from one moment
to the next
now my days are in tatters
and little much matters
as I float unravelled
from tide to tide
with no shore
on which to alight
or marker to incite
or track change

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