West.

I've got these memories
resting in the palms of your hands.
and I am laying at your feet
forgetting forgiveness
wasn't something needed.
and my heart
has seen better
sides of the sun
Maps could not
tell you where I've
been since then,
since Autumn came
early
and winter
passed just as fast.
But
you could trace my veins
and make a run for it,
they would tell you
I'm headed west.

Kites

Ive tracked these foot steps
back to the beginning
when we would
fly these kites
and crash these boats
against an oceans wake
but things we're not
torn up
and tangled then
and we
could sail just as far
and now
we are landlocked

Maps are misleading

There are bridges burning
while new ones are paved
and I cannot help
but look forward to
mislead
gut
feelings
and
easy afternoons
on train tracks
I've never seen before.
They look just the same
as 300 miles before
and I know
they will lead me
where they need
me to be.

Steady

There is this breath in me
that cannot escape from Monday's
and lost Sundays
And I am pacing myself
at this crossing
this river
and I am still forgetting
to breath.

march

We bleed war stories
we never knew
talking American pride
and these walls,
and we could never
have that kind of pride,
like those soldiers
our brothers.
But we could know pride
of other things
without guns
without armor.
But they wouldn't salute us
and we could only be
enemies of this state,
of our own
breathed
ground
and rock
and morter.
But we will still march

we will still march.

two

I am stationary
waiting
finding the strokes
of your fingertips
are just the same
as they had been
from
the beginning
and you bleed led
when your
heart pours out onto
drenched pieces of paper
and old wooden benches
but you'd prefer
the latter.

Part one.

It was safe there
in that space between you and me
but never so forward as here
never so forward as my chest,
but my pace remains the same
and midnight conversations
could always last just as long
with silence already reserved
for pausing regret and apology.
We wind around this road
like the hands on the clock,
only for a second at a time
are the hands all aligned at once.
And this pace remains the same.
But I could still listen
to your voice on the other line
and take it for gold
and hold it still in that space.

drop

It was raining on that last bus ride home
I slept in the far back seat
I never sit there,
let alone, sleep on the bus.
I had only driven down 12 hours before this
with intentions and
my intentions were missed
as we slept
and made promises between our teeth
that these things just wouldn't happen again
but our promises
were only words
we used to hide shame.
Our shame
has led us to six months gone
and you're there
and I have broken words
and angry thoughts
and clenched jaws
and sleep.

on the fly.

I made a self portrait today
the one I could never complete
could never say
just quite how I saw me
because how I saw me
didn't quite measure up
through your eyes
and though I could've lied
and told myself
I was better than that
I was better than this
I still remained in blues and grey
I still remained through clouds
and that song is playing on the radio
on repeat
and I can't get those lyrics out of my head
the ones that reminded me
of the misery I like to keep for company
but you never liked those words
they were just too sad for you
so you kept your ears on the beat
and even that
was just too slow
and the thump
wasn't in the bass the way you like
and I keep it on the loop,
because I can feel the beat through these veins
and the words hit my heart
before my ears
and you keep saying
its just not that good a song.
I hung my portrait up
just now.
and turned up the radio.

A collection of short poems.

Wating for a sleep that won’t come

I sing songs
Hold my breath
stop
repeat.
Hold Breath.
Pause.
Snooze.
Counting sheep, like counting spots on the wall
They never seem to end.
Find flight in this mess of a dream
not like nightmares
so easy to stay.
There was never the choice to stay.
I always loose count
stop.
Pause.
It was easier before,
to ignor the buzzing
down the street.
but silence
seems to amplify
what you couldn't,
wouldn't,
didn't want to
hear just hours before.
and this song is on repeat
the chorus
never stopped
and was beautiful.
your face
was beautiful
like the mona
like the lisa
I loose count.
stop.
count.
hold breath.
repeat.