Storm clouds hang
around the edges of
this place
outlining a burst of sun,
a rip of light
across the sky.
I watch wind blow leaves
one direction,
then another,
warm and cool air
prickling my skin,
raising alert,
sending my eyes
upward
to ask,
“What now?”
these unspoken rules are so confusing
are they even unspoken?
after all, i was taught email etiquette in school
what a strange skill to learn
i type exclamation points at a frequency a man never would
i want to sound polite
but i decide there’s too many
so a period will suffice
and for the love of all that is holy
stop selecting reply all
My neighbor has a pressure washer
that he uses to clean his walks
He doesn’t like grime in the porous surface
that turns green every fall
His wife likes that he doesn’t like the grime
and usually watches him do it, with a smile
He showed me how it’s just regular water
straight from the garden hose
But when pressurized,
it hits the driveway with great force,
The dirt and mold
are removed, completely
I wish there was one of those
for all my bad memories
Memories of failures
and opportunities lost
The ones that come calling at night
just before you go to sleep
The ones that invite you
to stay up with them for a while
I could line them up, blast ’em to smithereens,
never to lose sleep over them again
Gone would be all the impetuous, half-baked, dumb-ass moments
that fill the pits and cracks of my life
leaving only
in tribute to the victims of Uvalde
If the square blocks building
my school could speak,
they’d speak of fingers drawn
through their curves and dips,
of declarations of first, second, third loves
etched in their cement,
of perspiration painted by
anxiety and excitement.
If the shapes splitting the gym floors of
my school could speak,
they’d speak of the quick squeak of sneakers,
of the blurred arcs of balls and birdies
swimming through air,
of pupils trained on tape marks
imagining NBA finals.
If the circular library shelves of
my school could speak,
they’d speak of dog-earing pages for research essays,
of discovering poetry amid prose fiction,
of the blood escaping as ink onto paper
blank of breath but black by knowledge.
And if I, the student of
my school could speak,
I’d speak of the graduation cords
hugging my neck yesterday
(rather than hugged to my parents’ sobbing chests),
of the diploma handed after over a decade
(rather than never printed or signed),
of the heart that beat so fast and slow
for the years and years I was granted
(rather than stilled by bullets and
surrendering its young soul).
I’d speak of how I grew up thirty minutes
from the terror of Sandy Hook,
how my brother’s class was so carefully
led inside for recess that day,
how our parents didn’t dare tell us
until years later;
of how when I embraced each friend
and thanked every teacher last night,
I was trying to not let the tears spill,
grateful beyond words for the time I was given,
beyond belief that my family was whole,
beyond everything for the muggy night air
in my lungs and swirling scarlet in my veins.
Isolation is a
non-negotiable popularity contest
My own demise
is a petulant sucker-punch
Some part of me craves
sacrosanct experimentation
Shame is a stingy welter
Bias is a
futile maelstrom
Forgetting is
an obstinate junkyard
Bias is a feckless lens
Loss is a capricious compass
Frailty is human apathy
My darling, just across the way
a blue pond shimmers, rippling waters clear
near tulips blooming as they dance and sway,
a paradise to rear our goslings dear.
Stretch not your thund’rous wings up to the sky,
for drizzling showers hinder painted flight.
Instead, let’s wade with webbed feet spry
upon the rushing road, courageous as a knight
who raises pointed lance against a wick-
ed foe. My love, be sure to step in time
with raindrops’ pitter patter onto slick-
ened streams of gray. The Chevrolet’s grand chime
and pickup truck’s great horn are nothing more
than serenades to ferry us to our safe shore.
Dawn cries, dropping
seagulls in the air
scavenging morsels
marooned on damp rocks.
Fog soothes swift wings.
Salt sprays
the broken cliff base—
evening’s wounds
stung open again.
Half-memory seeps
from shallow cuts.
I need that pain.
We’re driving in the dark
to the hospital. The road
eerie quiet, street lights
shine on wet pavement, only
the slish of the tires breaks
the silence.
A fleeting thought–
this has nothing to do with me.
This is not my journey.
She says I don’t want
to do this test. I wait for more,
then say I don’t blame you.
I know my mind is trying
to distance, numb the trauma
of our joint ordeal. Reaching
deep within, I feel around
as though searching a large
cardboard bos. I’m looking
for something solid. I slide
My hand from one corner
to the other–
nothing but empty space.
I sit by the campfire we made from fallen branches and discarded twigs
We watch the flames sway in the eastern breeze.
Smoke plumes rise and reach above us
blazing tongues lick the air and I am entranced–
temporarily absent from this flickering present
I silence myself mid-conversation–
you continue speaking as shadows creep across your face.
Your voice thickens and the night air cradles your words
— soaked with life– still dripping wet, impossible to ignite a simple spark
Western wildfires whisper to this makeshift pyre
sensing its urge to grow, to incinerate us both.
I will halt any attempt to extinguish it,
I will stand at its center and conjure the spirits of misunderstood women who came before me,
I will not flinch when the flames lick their lips with each taste of my melting flesh.
We will burn and turn to the ash that the wind pushes around the emptiness where the fire once warmed us.
I learned of your death today
Surprised, I am sad
because you died
I am not sad for your work, directing and teaching, young actors, playwrights,
writing plays, a couple of novels, a memoir,
finishing a new play on JFK, his death, one of your obsessions
I am sad no,
outraged,
by another obsession
Great actor training guru, preying on young female actors,
discussing their acting skills, utilizing power, luring them
into your lair of seduction and command
Your late spouse endured your dalliances, lies,
persistent narcissistic preoccupation.
You closed out those who cared for you
I am saddened for a period of your life
when you irreparably damaged
and damned young lives
And you said you were threatened
by a young schoolboy
who told you to leave his mother alone
