driftwood

When there's enough fuel in
the fire
The smoke becomes a ghost
Dodging and spinning
Upward and out
Carving cursive loops in
the night
And I regret
Adding cardboard to healthy flames
When driftwood would suffice

windows

Ancient windows,
relatively speaking.
For decades, these metal
clasps held the panes tight
against their metal frames
Sealed off the winds or
rain or
whatever was outside
that wanted to get in

I bought the right to sleep here,
For a few days.
The panes and the clasps
still stand guard
But some have fractured
Careless hands twisting and
pulling until function
overcame form
And cracks splintered

On the first night,
I was careless.
Twisting a handle with no result
And yet I continued,
Pressure building,
Resistance mounting against
my fingers,
Blindly pushing a Sisyphean load
Begging to open an inch
Just for a little fresh air

At the last moment,
I heard the warning.
Stopped, and looked, and listened
And saw the pane, buckling with pride
Holding steadfast in duty

I unclasped the remaining lock
And the window sprang to attention.

Wires

Filaments
Finding their way
snaking through veins
Light me up.

I speak to myself
as a collective
One hundred billion
fireflies
Lighting up.

We have clipped our wires
Killed our light
Hidden in grass
and dirt

So bring your heat
Your heart
Your shine
Your spark
And find your way

The Napping House

Waking up
In the middle of the day
Surprised to find that I've
survived
Surprised I'm still alive

Waking up
In the middle of the night
Hiding from the light
Of the TV right in front of me

How beautiful, this therapy
I wish I could be here with me
But I've forgotten
everything

And I'm trying to be
mindful of
The places that I've been
and loved
The people who still mean
so much

So I wake up
In the middle of the afternoon
Hungover with a Xanax hue
Of purple and blue

stage four

 You wouldn't use the words
That spoke the truth
About the cancer
Growing inside of you

I went into the other room
To call the nurse
And her voice said,
casually
"Stage four"
Reading from the doctor's 
notes

I muted my microphone
Continued to take notes
While my eyes began to 
blink
And blur the lines of ink

I underlined the words
You wouldn't use
That spoke the truth
About the end of you

recall

I can't recall details
Those tiny pieces
Of scratchy information
Sanding down the folds
of my brain

Like the names of your children
The places your grew up
I want to say, proudly
That I know you
But the details keep
slipping

And I just keep drinking
And that warm sliver
Of afternoon sun
That cuts through the gap

In the blinds
In my grandmother's
bedroom
Wait, I mean my
bedroom

The warm sliver of sun
That touches the hairs of my arm
With a fingertip touch
Shows me some things
Are still beautiful

But I shift
And I sleep
And the light does not 
follow me

And suddenly we're
talking
And you say something
I should know already
But I just can't recall.

Sacrament prayer

 Oh god
The eternal father

You cried last night
While we talked on the
phone
When I told you
I didn't want to be alive
anymore
I felt your holy spirit
Tickle my eardrum

And you sent your
Only begotten love
To be crucified
On the off-white carpet
Of my living room

Sent your only daughter
To save me
And I betrayed her

Conjured a shadow
to swallow her light
Chew up her spirit
And spent the night
Sucking on the rind
of your holy empathy

The hangover this
morning
Was deeper, stronger
Heavier than usual
It stretched to the heavens
And tasted like spilt
blood
And whiskey from every 
pore

Oh god
The immortal mother

I am guilt-ridden and
grateful
For her midnight
atonement
For her sadness
And my father's before mine

passing afternoon

 "There are times I walk
from you
Like some passing afternoon"
Plays in my head

As we lay in the quiet
of the skylight sun
Filtered

To the living room floor
Our profiles shrouded
In the passing afternoon

The chemicals touch my
lips
My breathing slows
Your eyelids flicker

And your legs twitch
In a fever dream sprint
I close my eyes and

wish to walk from this
life
Like the sleepy warmth
Of July afternoons

*Quoted lyrics by Iron and Wine

orchid

Your accountant
brought an orchid
The day you died
He offered food
But we had plenty of
food in this house

So the orchid posed
with pictures of you
The time you met your
granddaughter
The time you held
your son

The first blossom slowly
opened
Then rapidly, the rest
Stretched into the room
Where we listened to
your death rattle
Your final peaceful
hours

I kept the soil damp
For lack of direction
The orchid started
shedding
We returned home to find its
petals
Scattered across the mantel

We woke early Sunday
morning
My brother and his wife
and I
The last orchid blossom
Self-soothing
petals curled inward

And the clouds
Refused to burn off by
noon
They lingered through
the afternoon
I kept the lights on in the
living room
And drank myself to
sleep

Overpass

When I walk past

An overpass

Without a fence

My stomach jumps

In the same sort of

Excited way

Watching the cars

Speeding towards me

Far below

I imagine 

A single movement

And think of

How long it might be

Until impact

How long would it be 

Until someone hit me

My body

Crumpled on the asphalt

Far below

Where I stand

Looking out

Over the overpass

I shudder

And keep walking