She does not ask me
May I be there
She does not ask me
If I want her
She does not ask me
In the right time
She does not ask me about the day
She is just there
The fear

When I was  
younger,
I had to learn
sit and wait to  
write.  
I  would get
impatient and force it.
If you read it,
you could tell.
Now I’m quite a bit older, and
I quit trying.
Fodder seems to be  
everywhere.
I can write about
the most mundane
things.
Today I’m at the  
library waiting for my
girlfriend to
finish up at the dentist.
She’s getting her  
teeth cleaned.
All my drinking ruined  
my teeth.
When I got them  
pulled a year ago,
there wasn’t a  
good tooth in my head.
I have dentures now, so
I don’t have to  
worry about how much I drink.
I know this isn’t a
very good poem, but
hey,
there she is
all shiny and bright…  
and sober.

Stay here
when everything says run.
Stay here
when the jaw grinds shut.
Stay here
when the breath runs thin.
Stay here
when you're out of your skin.
Stay here
when the drink calls quietly.
Stay here
when the voice says spitefully,
"you're not enough"
because
when it comes to this stuff,
running feeds the fire
and true healing requires
staying here.

There’s a secret in heaven
In the vines weaved through the overcast
Of a leafy canopy
Someone sleeps in the gathering
Of rain puddles and
Drips like the liquid
In an IV
They say,
Someday
We will be free
From our lost ideals
And speak the last words
We can muster
Someday
We will hear them floating in the
Particles of the wind
And become the stories
That the earth
Tells to the stars