this cusp belies
of winter’s end
though I know
it won’t bring spring
I should learn to enjoy
the warm itch of wool
than wane yearning
for the touch of your skin


you and words

life goes on just like before
contracts signed and others torn
though I rarely read a single line
like I did between yours
just to find I would be
the only one bound
to no gains
and expected to refrain
from expectations

I have no reasons only rhymes
to excuse the time I wasted
offering views to the blind
I preferred the words
and how they swirled
in my eyes and mouth
so much more than you

but without you they scatter
I’m adrift amidst a mist
of letters that refuse
to gather into clouds
and rain a relief
I can turn into words
to drown my fear
that you have all
I wish I did not need

birthday, again

The forecast said sunny
it wasn’t
still, at least it didn’t rain
and it wasn’t cold
but it wasn’t warm either
When at last the sun seeped
through the blanketed sky
the cake had been sliced and shared
wishes dished and smiles dispersed
and the remaining work
set aside for tomorrow
In all, the day was duly pleasant
if not dull
mostly, it was done
And but for the sound
growing louder
of doors not too distant
creaking shut
everything was the same
despite the birthday wish

still life

The spring sun rouses me
from my slumber
I stumble to the purpose
buried under last year’s leaves
My stash has been raided
as I awaited warmer days
The bones
picked clean of contentions
hold no pretension
of slaking my hunger
and crumble to ash at my touch
Ghosts of intentions
whet desires
I dare not mention
without raising hope
for the dead
dried fallen buds
crunching underfoot
as I make my way
to take my place
and make art of starvation
in this barren still life

the end

I’m getting used to it
But it’s not getting easier
fainter nor lighter

I’m not thinking about it any less
though I’m trying harder not to
I’m still going through all the motions
keeping up all the habits and rituals
Nothing has changed
except now
nothing about it
ever will

five stages of losing contact

Reading and rereading between barely lines of dead text

I send panicked messages to revive anything that may remain

I wait. Any time now…

Time you are not worth

How could I have been so stupid?

I stare dejectedly at non-notifications

Perhaps if I turn them off

I turn them off

Perhaps if stop checking

I do not check  (as often)

I uninstall, reinstall, uninstall
again and again

What if I lose track, show resolve, pay my dues

and install again

Dumb silence the reply

Hope is rescinding but your image, your voice, your silence haunt me

I’ve no rituals, no sacrifice left to offer

other than silence

I wait for when I will no longer wait

getting there


Politics and the kids
are all we talk of now
(did we ever talk of anything else?)
You shake your graying head
Each time I’m not convinced
Our dreams behind us
shuddering as we mock
what’s left of our ideals
We sure do know better now
I meet your pragmatism
with just a hint
of reluctant resignation
I’m only just learning
to act my age

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We’ve been in this boat
long enough
Each movement rocking the other
Sometimes to sleep
Too often into nausea
So we each try not to move anymore
Out of consideration
for the other
We’ve learned to turn the keel perpendicular to the waves
So we rise and fall
Giving us the sense of movement
While putting off
coming to that sunlit
barren shore

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