the hungry luck

so many times,
I look back at what I
have done -
no smile interrupts

this sight

it is not pride that

cuts through -

it is remorse for

not knowing where

it is headed -

it is guilt for not

starting sooner

it is the graven

responsibility

of it all

filling needs, giving

something more of

yourself than you thought

you had and never truly

knowing if it hits home

how many out there feel

the dark while swimming

through the light? doing

all the right things and 

feel the misery for it -

someone place a rose on

the empty bed when I am

no longer there and scatter

the ashes among the stars 

some give and others take

it is the way of all things -

predator and prey,

antenna and receiver

saint and soil

I have heard it said that

those who have nothing 

never tried, but those who

have nothing tried harder 

than those who were handed

everything

there is luck in all things,

luck makes the spark

that sets the fire that

burns the world to quench

the sins of the Almighty 

and we are left staggering in

the filth below our feet, trying

to stay upright, searching for

the luck when the luck doesn't

seem to spark

we hobble here and there,

looking for something to start

the blaze, but without fuel, the flames

die low in the mud and are snuffed out

in our time of need

be happy where you are

feel the freedom of never beginning,

never starting in the first place

and watch the darkness 

devour the light

certain losses

   this mirror
       this cold
never ending
         so      sound
           - believes in
       this cold
warm below
               under the raging sun
          for delights yet polished
i can't remember your face anymore,
             dear mother
       i can't remember your heart
  this mirror
      this heat
the sound of air
                moving through me
      never gave myself a name
         who are you?    where did you go?
for those of you never born:
               don't begin
i don't even remember why
but your laugh is still with me
i remember it better than myself
i wish you hadn't gone
      and left me here alone

unfounded

i am going to live
fast and die old
live hard and die
soft
live long and fall
flat on my face,
mumbling incantations,
words with god
to the peace of
being at peace
in pieces.
this moment, this space,
this wise, willing time in
tears and wondering
where it went.
we are composed of
lost souls.

not that it matters

that first night when I was
still oblivious, when I still
believed in faithful women
and love and identity, and she
hadn't been home and
she wouldn't answer her phone
and I paced the cockroach apartment
back and forth, hoping she would call.
the sick in my throat, wondering if she
had been hurt ...
or maybe she didn't love me anymore.
or maybe she just couldn't be bothered.
I threw up in the toilet with my arms
wrapped around the bowl. I was jittery
from stress and I felt my bowels clench.
I was young and from another part of the
country where people still had sense enough
to call and make up a story even if it was
just to pacify the other.
I swear I saw the roaches laughing like they
had the mark
              on an
           inside
                  joke.
and her cat curled up in the corner and
gave me a glance that said I was too
ignorant to see, that I would get to know
what it was all about, all too soon.
                I tried to lay
down.
         I tried to sleep. I had to be at
work in a couple of hours and she was
                   still
                        out.
the ceiling swirled above and crept down
and threatened to flatten me and I breathed hard
and felt my heart clatter against my ribs and there
was sweat across my face.
                 I thought I
heard
            someone on the
stairs outside. I jumped out of bed
and ran into the living room and looked out
past the blinds, but it was the neighbor
              coming home  
                                  late.
                 I bet she called her
other and let
him know she was going to be late.
                     I sat on the floor.
            I was overwhelmed
    and
                         shaking.
I threw up again and washed my face in the sink
and stared at the mirror to make sure I was still
                    my
                        self.
then I heard the keys rattle against the lock and the tears
came and my vision was blurry
                                                  as she walked in.
and I was so happy, I jumped up and hugged her
                   and she looked at me strange and pushed me
                                                away.
     "what the fuck's
               the matter with you?"
             she asked.
"I was worried about you," I said.
                 "stop being such a pussy," she said.
"it's four o'clock in the morning," I said. "you didn't call."
                 "and?" she asked, brushing me off.
"I thought maybe you were hurt or something."
                 "I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself."
"I know," I said, "but I was freaking out. I thought
that you had got into an accident."
                 "you're acting like a girl." she laughed.
"you're being hurtful," I said.
                 "not to anyone I care about," she replied.  

empty pages made full

it was a blank page.
nothing there.
no heart,
no malice,
nothing yet.
it was a blank page
that stared at me
as I sat there,
looking for it to be
filled.
it was as empty then
as it is now,
staring off into the
void between this and that.
and it said more than any
other page I have ever seen.
it told stories that I had not
thought of before. it sang. it
whimpered. it cried and laughed.
this empty page and another time
when all wasn't so bad and there
was happiness, a little joy, and
the body did not ache. and the mind
was tuned. and the fear was not as
                       thick.
I am thankful for the empty
page, for what it has not said,
for what it has yet to explain,
for being in its natural state
without judgement or denial.
but now it is full and nothing
has been
               said
      and I am not sure
        if it had ever been said
 before, but it meant something
then as it does now.
     appreciate the blank page,
the empty
                          stare,
the teller of no lies,
                 the proud,
the deranged,
        the tired, blank page.
it is the beginning of something,
the fresh start, the timid pulp
that can see far into the future,
or deep into the past. it can
scale the highest wall and
crouch under the smallest slit.
it allows for all, or nothing. it
is of its own breath. it can make
the fog lift, or the rain come in
sheets. this blank page of ours
is just the beginning. give it soul.
give it heart.
                  let
            it
                        live.

bombs, bending, and bewilderment

at midnight, people blew shit up.
I'm pretty sure someone set off
a car bomb a few blocks away.

there were gunshots and screams.
there were passive / aggressive cheers.
there was a dog hiding in my backyard.

flashes lit up the sky.
smoke lifted.
a powerful
explosion
shook the
house.

terrorizing music played
in the streets. children
cried. people were
speaking in
tongues.

more weapons fired.
the lid on the trashcan
blew off. the dog in
the backyard yelped.

police choppers filled
the sky. spotlights lit
up the neighborhood.
all at midnight, no later.

someone yelled, "HAPPY
NEW YEAR," seconds
before another explosion
sounded.

a yelp and a holler and
all was quiet at 12:01,
January 1st, 2014.

another year dawns

the next isn't always better than the last.
the last, now that's where it's at -
the full expectation,
the growing old,
the root canals,
the fever.

the last fuck
the last job
the last hour -
it is like it never
gets that good  
                again.

we make what we have and we have
what we make and we are somehow
responsible for ourselves without actually
being in control.

out with the old ways, making room for
the new, giving up on the bullshit that
didn't make a difference. giving in when
giving up would have been just as good.

accomplishing something this year, now
that is what it is all about -
making a difference, seeing things in a
different way - being different, allowing
for our differences. differentiation from
the norm.

going forward,
moving forward,
striking out,
inciting change.
developing.
evolving.
giving a
little more
even if it
hurts.

loving and
being loved.
accepting and
being accepted.
growing into yourself,
growing out of yourself.

I think we are up for the
challenge. I think we can
take it to task. I think we
should try. I think we can.