Last Updated On March 29, 2019

 

This is a collection I performed at the Sharing & Listening Space on 3/24/19

 

 

Shadow Box

Calling forth all my moments
The representative
The pivotal
The ecstasy
And the existential

Come and submit to an autopsy
Of sorts
Or maybe just an examination
A re-telling
And a display

Make like a butterfly in a shadow box.

Oh winged one
Alight just once more
Let me admire your splendor
And wring your secrets

Oh noble sacrifice
To be multitudes incarnate
Your genus and species
Frozen in time but
Forever enlightening

This is how I coax the butterfly.
To climb onto the mat.
To offer its wings to steel.
###

What I’m Thinking

All love
Curls up and cracks
Like a seed
A nugget
A granule of ruptured
Possibilities
Squeeze it
Pinch it
Stretch it
Watch it grow

He finishes my sentences.
I no longer have to plan past the first three words.
“Are you thinking…
###

Birthday Song

Wear a hat
A birthday hat
Who is the boy who is born this day?
Under this star?
Neath these heavens?

It was you, star boy, you!

Billowing dust and gas
On a collision course with
Human form
Radiant and destructive
And a gift delivered on this day
To ready nest
And willing hands

Flag down the cosmic one!

Blow them out
Make a wish
See them flicker
And swirl
Happy happy happy
Birth day to you.
###

Broke

On that night, I was full
Uncomfortably so
Skin stretched and split and
Stretched again
In shiny rivulets
I compulsively palpitated the surface
In wonder
In confirmation

My being
Pressed into a prayer
Of concentration
Building and plumping
With the familiar ache and tension
Of anticipation
Of completion
Time is a child

Eventually confines were breeched,
Naturally,
Rolling back to temporary resolution
A drenched and brave resolution
A shouting into the wind resolution
A fumbling through loss and uncertainty resolution

How about
We both
Allow ourselves
And each other
To be happy
All is forgiven
All is possible
And nothing is gone forever
###

Keep Trimming

I really do like to write. But sometimes I just get exhausted. I mean, I got the essentials done and done well but that rarely means actually writing. The act almost never makes it to the survival list. Thank god for open mic because it is often the only deadline that keeps me honest.

Did I say that I’m tired? I find it frustrating that I can’t seem to do all the things that I want to do. Even if I trim it down to things I have to do. I always believed that one would free up the other. But its not a guarantee. Sometimes its just an act of good faith.

And I get mean. At myself. Like I am something to be whipped into better performance. But I am actively trying to cool it with that. I get blood lust. Did I say I like to write?

And then I think of Erica and how little time she had and all the things she wanted to do. All the things she loved and the things she could do so well. How she still managed to show up for life even though it brutalized her so.

It makes me want to do.
But it also makes me want to be.
And sometimes you just can’t do both.
###

 

Last Updated On March 29, 2019

 

This is a collection I performed at the Sharing & Listening Space on 3/24/19

 

Shadow Box

Calling forth all my moments
The representative
The pivotal
The ecstasy
And the existential

Come and submit to an autopsy
Of sorts
Or maybe just an examination
A re-telling
And a display

Make like a butterfly in a shadow box.

Oh winged one
Alight just once more
Let me admire your splendor
And wring your secrets

Oh noble sacrifice
To be multitudes incarnate
Your genus and species
Frozen in time but
Forever enlightening

This is how I coax the butterfly.
To climb onto the mat.
To offer its wings to steel.
###

What I’m Thinking

All love
Curls up and cracks
Like a seed
A nugget
A granule of ruptured
Possibilities
Squeeze it
Pinch it
Stretch it
Watch it grow

He finishes my sentences.
I no longer have to plan past the first three words.
“Are you thinking…
###

Birthday Song

Wear a hat
A birthday hat
Who is the boy who is born this day?
Under this star?
Neath these heavens?

It was you, star boy, you!

Billowing dust and gas
On a collision course with
Human form
Radiant and destructive
And a gift delivered on this day
To ready nest
And willing hands

Flag down the cosmic one!

Blow them out
Make a wish
See them flicker
And swirl
Happy happy happy
Birth day to you.
###

Broke

On that night, I was full
Uncomfortably so
Skin stretched and split and
Stretched again
In shiny rivulets
I compulsively palpitated the surface
In wonder
In confirmation

My being
Pressed into a prayer
Of concentration
Building and plumping
With the familiar ache and tension
Of anticipation
Of completion
Time is a child

Eventually confines were breeched,
Naturally,
Rolling back to temporary resolution
A drenched and brave resolution
A shouting into the wind resolution
A fumbling through loss and uncertainty resolution

How about
We both
Allow ourselves
And each other
To be happy
All is forgiven
All is possible
And nothing is gone forever
###

Keep Trimming

I really do like to write. But sometimes I just get exhausted. I mean, I got the essentials done and done well but that rarely means actually writing. The act almost never makes it to the survival list. Thank god for open mic because it is often the only deadline that keeps me honest.

Did I say that I’m tired? I find it frustrating that I can’t seem to do all the things that I want to do. Even if I trim it down to things I have to do. I always believed that one would free up the other. But its not a guarantee. Sometimes its just an act of good faith.

And I get mean. At myself. Like I am something to be whipped into better performance. But I am actively trying to cool it with that. I get blood lust. Did I say I like to write?

And then I think of Erica and how little time she had and all the things she wanted to do. All the things she loved and the things she could do so well. How she still managed to show up for life even though it brutalized her so.

It makes me want to do.
But it also makes me want to be.
And sometimes you just can’t do both.
###

Last Updated On March 29, 2019

This is a collection I performed at the Sharing & Listening Space on 3/24/19

Shadow Box

Calling forth all my moments
The representative
The pivotal
The ecstasy
And the existential

Come and submit to an autopsy
Of sorts
Or maybe just an examination
A re-telling
And a display

Make like a butterfly in a shadow box.

Oh winged one
Alight just once more
Let me admire your splendor
And wring your secrets

Oh noble sacrifice
To be multitudes incarnate
Your genus and species
Frozen in time but
Forever enlightening

This is how I coax the butterfly.
To climb onto the mat.
To offer its wings to steel.
###

What I’m Thinking

All love
Curls up and cracks
Like a seed
A nugget
A granule of ruptured
Possibilities
Squeeze it
Pinch it
Stretch it
Watch it grow

He finishes my sentences.
I no longer have to plan past the first three words.
“Are you thinking…
###

Birthday Song

Wear a hat
A birthday hat
Who is the boy who is born this day?
Under this star?
Neath these heavens?

It was you, star boy, you!

Billowing dust and gas
On a collision course with
Human form
Radiant and destructive
And a gift delivered on this day
To ready nest
And willing hands

Flag down the cosmic one!

Blow them out
Make a wish
See them flicker
And swirl
Happy happy happy
Birth day to you.
###

Broke

On that night, I was full
Uncomfortably so
Skin stretched and split and
Stretched again
In shiny rivulets
I compulsively palpitated the surface
In wonder
In confirmation

My being
Pressed into a prayer
Of concentration
Building and plumping
With the familiar ache and tension
Of anticipation
Of completion
Time is a child

Eventually confines were breeched,
Naturally,
Rolling back to temporary resolution
A drenched and brave resolution
A shouting into the wind resolution
A fumbling through loss and uncertainty resolution

How about
We both
Allow ourselves
And each other
To be happy
All is forgiven
All is possible
And nothing is gone forever
###

Keep Trimming

I really do like to write. But sometimes I just get exhausted. I mean, I got the essentials done and done well but that rarely means actually writing. The act almost never makes it to the survival list. Thank god for open mic because it is often the only deadline that keeps me honest.

Did I say that I’m tired? I find it frustrating that I can’t seem to do all the things that I want to do. Even if I trim it down to things I have to do. I always believed that one would free up the other. But its not a guarantee. Sometimes its just an act of good faith.

And I get mean. At myself. Like I am something to be whipped into better performance. But I am actively trying to cool it with that. I get blood lust. Did I say I like to write?

And then I think of Erica and how little time she had and all the things she wanted to do. All the things she loved and the things she could do so well. How she still managed to show up for life even though it brutalized her so.

It makes me want to do.
But it also makes me want to be.
And sometimes you just can’t do both.
###