Everything is Fine, Go Back to Sleep

I worry; you’re so good at hiding things,
like grit between your teeth, or
his baseball stats, her diminishing frame. Your heart is a
container full and piled high, your hands those of a thief,
gloved and stealthy, your chest a locked door.
I know the spot and still cannot find it.
Each sleep brings a chance, I think now I am here,
but the scent dies, trail dissolves,
your smile shakes the dream: “Everything is fine, go back to sleep.”

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Is this too a dream?

I dream so well, so deep,
sometimes I can’t tell the dreaming
from the living. The rooms are both blue.

Have you ever thought you awoke, only to
find you were still dreaming? The clocks
on the wall melt like Dali.

When you say I Love You, the words seem
slow. If I reach out to touch you, will you
still be there, will you still be?

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6 years ago – and the poetry

Hard to believe this all started 6 years ago. To all my poetry lovers out there – THANK YOU! And I’m sorry for the neglect… but I’m back🙂 #JustPressSend

I found the words while
cleaning. They were
hiding in a corner I never visit anymore,
in a house I neglect,
their edges yellowing, those once
tall Ts slumped, bowled over by
gravity, and between tiny spaces,
weeds now rooted, all but
wrecking the leading, so many lines askew.

what a mess, a holy mess,
but the point is – I found them.

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rain and Canadian pennies

If, when walking to a window
to view rain in shiny opaque sheets,
you find a Canadian penny
sitting on the sill,

is it still good luck?

Or are you more alone than ever
because the world is washing away
and even lucky charms
are foreign –

Or are we luckier than we realize?
Maybe we should thank our fellow
traveler for such a token of a
big and shining world.

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Backbones unfurled

In the east we paint
rebelliously, our backbones
Unfurled. Trains, unaware
Hum low tones “I’m here,
I’m here.”


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Celebrate Impermanence

Celebrate impermanence;
wash your upturned face in scents
like shadows, harbor, industry, earth;
let autumn slant and shimmer
until all becomes a checkered dock.

Grab tight the world and squeeze in familiar
desperation – then
relax and open up.

Celebrate Impermanence

Celebrate Impermanence

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Without a road taken, Vegas Appears

And here I am over Colorado, racing towards Vegas,
and the cracked red lands, and the lights of a buzzing Oasis,
I brought along Kerouac.
He’s made me desperate
to take off and write that way, and live that way, hopping
rides with wild abandon.

Outside clouds pile high on each other, and here I sit,
smashed in the middle,
bursting at the thought:

I read this book 14 years ago
when the country was still unknown to me,
all marked for treasure, Xs and lines and potential on paper.

This was before the country’s heartache,

before constant notifications and
gel manicures, sushi, home ownership, broken marriages,
before GPS and Instagram,

before terrorism even. I was an open road.

Stretching out, clouds settle in, thinning like hair,

I want to visit the Omaha of my grandfather, the wild and raw,
Model T dripping oil, hissing in protest.
He made it to the Hoover Dam and camped out,
he slept under stars that don’t exist anymore because
we’ve swiped them away.

Without a road taken, Vegas appears.

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