Tuesday, March 19, 2013


Why couldn’t I be enough?

Why couldn’t I be strong enough?

Why couldn’t my best be good enough?


Why couldn’t I make you happy?

Why couldn’t you let me go?

Why couldn’t I walk away?


When does it all come together?

When does the yearning stop?

When will all the pieces fit?


I should have walked away back then

I should have run away when you said

When you said

Touching me made you sick

When you did everything to tell me it was over

Except say it was over

I should have run, never looked back

I should have walked into the sun

So many “should have dones”

Could of, would of, should of

Hindsight, yeah it’s so clear

But it wasn’t for all those years

Discarded, unwanted, inadequate

Square peg, Round hole

Forcing, splinters

Piercing my heart

Falling apart

Falling away



I never knew how alone it could be

With you by my side


Push over


I just wanted to be your hero


Not an absolute




Saturday, June 9, 2012


I hold the large black and white picture in my palms,

my arms spread
to accommodate for its size and fragility
The worn edges crumble lightly, sending a cascade
of history, battered and yellowed, to the floor
I stare through water stains at a young man, unsmiling;
he wears the garb of a World War One soldier,
all creases and wool, leggings and boots
his right hand rests on the edge an ornate table
his left hand hangs at his side, fingers drawn
a single ring adorns his left hand
one his sleeve, two chevrons point to the floor
a single ribbon sits atop his pocket
he bears no name tag
the image conceals his height
he is young and slender
his hair closely shorn on his skull
his expression reveals nothing
no anger, pride or humor
he stares ahead
with a Mona Lisa expression
not a smile, not quite serene

I stare at the man
I can see my father’s eyes
but all resemblance ends there
this man is a stranger
that lived with us for the final
few years of his life
as a frail old man
he would walk everyday
and get lost in the neighborhood
we’d try to help, my brothers and I
by pointing him in the right direction
when he went astray
but he got angry at us on our bikes

the young man in the photo is a stranger
like the old man who lived with us
like my father
the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, they say
I hope that someday
when someone holds a tattered
yellowed picture of me
they will see a familiar
a family member
a relative
and someone will share a story
or an anecdote, or a smile
and I will be something more


I am rebuilding remodeling remolding me I am retooling refueling rethinking myself I am reminded reguided refocused on me I am refining redefining resigning the old me I am recentering relearning returning to myself, me

Friday, October 14, 2011

picture perfect

like an old black and white
day and night
we contrasted
yet focused

the exposure
and subsequent zoom
exhilarated us
framed our desires

like a flash bulb
we burned intensely
double negatives
making a positive

the chemicals
the brightness

the results
picture perfect

wishful thinking

ever search for something
for so long
put forth so much effort
that when you finally
found what you were looking for
you had no idea what to do next?

you feel like you come to a complete stop
and expect a miracle
or a miraculous change
but nothing is different
it's still the same old you
more empty.

I feel like that sometimes.
I don't know why I search when I know I will only
be left feeling sad
and empty
and lonely.

Thursday, September 22, 2011


she spoke in hushed tones
not to me
but around me

I could hear her voice in the wind
the trees, the grass
she spoke in whispers

and rhymes,
"time and time again"
she repeated in every natural tongue
"you failed me yet again"

I cried and listened and shook
she spoke the truth
on the petals of a rose
and the barb of the thorn

she revealed the wishes
never granted, never fulfilled
of a gentle heart and open mind

she cursed the day and wept for the night
branches trembled at her fury
but clouds calmed her resolve

"you will see me again"
she foretold with a glass surface stillness
and she laughed

shrill echoes shattered the stillness
drowned out by distant thunder
then peace

yet there is no peace
for her
or me

until we meet again

Saturday, July 23, 2011

on the brink

a whisper
only an idea really
by a figment of wind

a ghost of a thought
just passing
through the ether
onto the edge of consciousness

a blink of an eye
movement of
a hummingbirds wing
a flash - it's gone

leaving only
a whisper

Friday, April 1, 2011

I'm not

I'm not alive
though I breathe
I'm not dead
though I 'm numb
I'm not blind
though I see
I'm not real
though I am here

I'm not a lot of things
And I will be one more


Tuesday, January 18, 2011


under suspicion
over exerted

sometimes I can't get it right
and I look deep inside
and my inner child is weeping

sometimes I can't get enough
and I look deep inside
and my inner child is sleeping

under the gun
over the hill

sometimes I can't get away
so I look deep inside
and my inner child is laughing

sometimes I can't get focused
so I stare deep inside
and my inner child is cracking

that little bastard needs to die....

Friday, December 31, 2010


so small
the number

so vain

so incomplete

I wish you larger
but time is a killer

it speeds when I slow
no where to go

I've tried
oh God I've tried

but belief is weak
and the pull is great

don't judge
like you know me
don't mock
like you care
just don't

if you want ot make a difference
then talk to me

and maybe
just maybe
would be so much more

will we ever know?