good morning honey, I made you breakfast.

how sweet to taste love that is soft.
to finally know a love that is not sharpened by fists. 

Long June days
when light
stays with us far 
into the evening.

I struggle
to stay awake
until darkness
descends.

Many sacred
moments revealed
as lights
turn on

across the river,
play white
and orange 
on the water. 

These days
I don’t want
to miss 
any glimpse

of a beautiful
world.

He catches an aroma 
ears stand at attention
tails waves like a pirate flag
leash snaps taut
as he strains against the leather
seeking the scent’s source
finally found
nose presses flat to the grass
sucking in every ounce of odor
until…aaahhh…olfactory orgasm

I knew this page of scripture well,
had copied it many times before,
but Father Midone was over my shoulder,
so it felt like twice the chore

for Father Midone seemed never pleased
by any page I had copied yet
and though he did not often speak,
Father would grab me by the neck

Midone’s finger would then point
at a tiny smudge upon the page
and I would drop my quill, humilated,
and begin to fill with rage

for I was born left-handed,
a fact I could not change,
and if a smudge did sometimes occur,
should Father act insane?

I picked up up my quill, started again,
for the page was nearly done,
then the bell announced dinner was near,
and I smudged it, just for fun

I took that page of parchment,
still wet with carbon ink,
and laid it on Midone’s chair,
hoping he would sit to pray or think

then sit, he did, oblivious,
absorbing every drop,
and as the ink dried on his ass,
he became the true dalcop

to write a poem daily
what once seemed impossible
became ritual

I see the presents you dropped off imagine the thought you put into choosing what I would like the book you found for your niece & nephew the inscription you wrote inside

your effort your desire to connect with family that won’t connect with you because you’re a homeless addict & you want so much for them to accept that fact & they can’t it’s too unpredictable

& you will not let go which means it has a hold on you like a love you can’t let go of like a daughter I can’t let go of & yet I must as I drove off today after telling you to do it your way but don’t ask me for money anger in my voice & it’s not like this is the first time I’ve said that

I’ve said it before & the drug that has taken over your mind has now taken over my mind & I don’t know what your withdrawals feel like but mine feel like vomit

I am now going to light candles take my bath & go to bed knowing you are resourceful & will figure out where to sleep tonight even though it is so cold.

morning ritual
light a candle, today two
present my cares to the Universe 
            I lay out the pieces of my life
Friday, so how hard can it be?
            accept what I cannot change
reminded the sun belongs to all of us
rays free for the taking
            accept what’s good, all the joy
joy despite and instead of
            joy arrives in the morning
announce I am grateful and determined to sing

What do I do when questions form
in my mind like diamonds  
tumbling from the sky,
questions I know
will destroy the witness
facing me on the stand?  

This father, who’s not my father.
This son, who’s not my son.  

Selfishness twists my dream to a halt.  

My Arjuna says to Krishna
Tell me another story.  

I turn my aggression inward,
turn it down,
unwilling to be ruthless with myself.

the nonplussed mullioned window’s maw,