Cold now.
Close to the edge. Almost
unbearable. Clouds
bunch up and boil down
from the north of the white bear.
This tree-splitting morning
I dream of his fat tracks,
the lifesaving suet.

I think of summer with its luminous fruit,
blossoms rounding to berries, leaves,
handfuls of grain.

Maybe what cold is, is the time
we measure the love we have always had, secretly,
for our own bones, the hard knife-edged love
for the warm river of the I, beyond all else; maybe

that is what it means the beauty
of the blue shark cruising toward the tumbling seals.

In the season of snow,
in the immeasurable cold,
we grow cruel but honest; we keep
ourselves alive,
if we can, taking one after another
the necessary bodies of others, the many
crushed red flowers.

Each face in the street is a slice of bread
wandering on
searching

somewhere in the light the true hunger
appears to be passing them by
they clutch

have they forgotten the pale caves
they dreamed of hiding in
their own caves
full of the waiting of their footprints
hung with the hollow marks of their groping
full of their sleep and their hiding

have they forgotten the ragged tunnels
they dreamed of following in out of the light
to hear step after step

the heart of bread
to be sustained by its dark breath
and emerge

to find themselves alone
before a wheat field
raising its radiance to the moon

I am alive
Breathing, blinking, being
I am a force that moves
Bringing with me light and peace
Setting things back into a perpetual groove
Eternally flourishing and green
Living, being, alive
An endless splendor is our home
Wilderness--Oh, the beauty in the sweet unknown
I will go out in a search
For I am alive
Who knows what I'll find
out in the wilderness
out in the great beyond

Pleasure, call me no more,
You do not know my name,
I do not want your warm embrace,
Your burden or your blame,

Desire, let  me sleep alone,
Don't wake me in the night,
Your taste is resting on my lips,
Your hold on me is tight,

Heartbreak, please, stay sober,
You're scary when you drink,
I need your words of wisdom now,
To tell me what to think,

Balance, I implore you,
Find me in this mess,
Bring me who I know I am,
Alight with happiness.

No more will I stroll down Northbourne Ave
Without my largest lid on
For what I thought a drop of rain
Came not from passing cloud but pigeon

Life squeezes by
We react passive-aggressively
What if we grabbed it by the collar
And said "Don't be oppressive"

I confess I've been a victim
Guess I gave myself that status
Let my heart control my thoughts
Then the rest was automatic

Some days I let it simmer
Other days I boil it fast
It always tastes bitter
And the bitter feeling lasts

I'm past all of the lying
I want to face the facts
So I can be friends with life
Share a beer and some laughs.

I am responsible for my own misery,
I am the one who created this hell.
I should have known better, and gotten help,
The very first time I fell.

I kept on finding excuses,
I kept on spreading blame.
I kept on telling myself lies,
and building this burning flame.

Now here I am helpless, depressed and lonely.
Wanting, wishing, hoping to end it all.
But I don't have the strength to **** myself,
Or the will to keep fighting through this wall

I have lost faith in god,
and the belief in the soul within.
No sight of my goals or my dreams.
No idea of who I was and who I have lately been

During the day I am the naïve, happy, jolly person everybody sees,
and by night a depressed, lonely, pathetic freak.
I feel like I should talk to someone,
But I know everyone has problems of their own.

Why is this so difficult?
Why cant I just live life and have fun?
There's talk about robbers, ****** and terrorists.
No one is hurting me but myself; there is no one else to blame: I am the one!

People like me need to start taking charge of their own life.
Aiming higher and taking the dives
Or we will end up like lifeless dolls,
After the world is done directing our lives.

Accidents and miracles do happen,
But the chances are very low
Now lets stop gambling with our lives
and just watching the show.

Accept some things,
and change some if u need to.
Work very hard,
but then take a break when you need to.

Just remember to keep doing things,
and never give up.
Because the story isn't over until,
The End.

Do you remember that tree outside of our first grade classroom?
That tree was enormous
It was the color of a dusty elephant
But with flakey skin
You could pick it off and crunch
In the palm of your hand

It must have been dead
Long before it was ours
Never any bugs
Or mold
or moss

Nothing to stop five-year-olds
From laying in its roots

It grew into a “Y” before it died
Split about seven feet off the ground
Perfect for a first imaginary fort
A manhunt hiding spot or a goal post
For recess super bowls

I can remember it
With us sitting beneath it
At five, at eight, at twelve
Sitting Indian-style
Picking blades of grass
To whistle between our thumbs


They mulched that tree years ago
It’s chopped and spread under the new playground
Keeping kids safe from falls
If only we could have explained
How much it protected when it still stood…

If you see my potential
If you see how I can change
If you see the amazing things I could be
Please leave now

If I show you my scars and you think they can heal
If I have a few pounds you think I can loose
If you have faith my income can grow
Please leave now

If you know I could be all you want me to be
If you know I can overcome all of this
If you know I can become the man you want
Please leave now

If you see differences but not shortcomings
If you see unique oddities that add to my charm
If you describe my quirks as adorable
If this version of me is complete enough for you
Then stay a while

This is the worst time of year.
The sun peaks it's rays through
Cotton candy clouds.
Tulips and sun-drenched daffodils
That raise their weary heads
Do nothing but stir up old memories.

This is the best time of year.
Rain falls in heavy droves
That soaks the skin and seeps into the bone.
We creak and click,
Dead bodies returned to life
Revived by steaming cups of coffee
Finding comfort in loneliness.

This is the saddest time of year.
Lovers lay in gently swinging hammocks
Slowly sipping life from one another.
Children imagine leaping into crystalline pools
By turning on the television
Seeking solace in air conditioned tombs.

This is the happiest time of year
Students cling to each other
Caps and gowns waving in the wind.
Office drones seek air conditioned prisons
And with every taste of freedom
They lay their wintry bones on
Scented grass
And hope to sink into the sun-warmed earth.