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“You see them in the mercury
light of water, the expanding
orbs of silver where trout
breathe. You hear
them in the sleepy kiss
of rainfall on pine
needles, smell them
as if they were snow
to the west.”
― The Indifferent World
light of water, the expanding
orbs of silver where trout
breathe. You hear
them in the sleepy kiss
of rainfall on pine
needles, smell them
as if they were snow
to the west.”
― The Indifferent World
“To a Depressed Friend
Sometimes, to make sure
You're still here,
Look up for cloud sustenance.
Be sure they are
Different from yesterday,
From an hour ago,
From when you were 15
And sky didn't matter
Because only pretty girls did.
Note how cumulus
Will be looking down
And naming what
Kind of human you're
Shaped like: mailman,
Archaeologist, student of rain.
On clear nights, rely on starlight.
Pentacles. Pulses.
Further proof of existence.”
― Reincarnation & Other Stimulants: Life, Death, & In-Between Poems
Sometimes, to make sure
You're still here,
Look up for cloud sustenance.
Be sure they are
Different from yesterday,
From an hour ago,
From when you were 15
And sky didn't matter
Because only pretty girls did.
Note how cumulus
Will be looking down
And naming what
Kind of human you're
Shaped like: mailman,
Archaeologist, student of rain.
On clear nights, rely on starlight.
Pentacles. Pulses.
Further proof of existence.”
― Reincarnation & Other Stimulants: Life, Death, & In-Between Poems
“THOREAU KNOWS
(The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation.)
Making sense of things,
Trying to track
Nine pebbles of sadness
To their source.
Sly crows
Stole them a mile back,
But Thoreau knows
I should walk anyway
Under sun-coined trees
Thick with wood-thrush song
Till I reach undergrowth
Dense and itchy with the past
Till the air cools and I am near
Enough to con crow talk
Mouth fulls, stories dark.”
― Reincarnation & Other Stimulants: Life, Death, & In-Between Poems
(The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation.)
Making sense of things,
Trying to track
Nine pebbles of sadness
To their source.
Sly crows
Stole them a mile back,
But Thoreau knows
I should walk anyway
Under sun-coined trees
Thick with wood-thrush song
Till I reach undergrowth
Dense and itchy with the past
Till the air cools and I am near
Enough to con crow talk
Mouth fulls, stories dark.”
― Reincarnation & Other Stimulants: Life, Death, & In-Between Poems
“from THE PAUSE BETWEEN
One day the dragonflies appear sudden as the sun.
Speed and softness, they lash sky to air in silent seams.
One's barred wings and abdomen are pressing
to the warm dock's slats. Another lights on the Chekhov book
you bought me, not realizing, like everything, it is a short
story, too.”
― Reincarnation & Other Stimulants: Life, Death, & In-Between Poems
One day the dragonflies appear sudden as the sun.
Speed and softness, they lash sky to air in silent seams.
One's barred wings and abdomen are pressing
to the warm dock's slats. Another lights on the Chekhov book
you bought me, not realizing, like everything, it is a short
story, too.”
― Reincarnation & Other Stimulants: Life, Death, & In-Between Poems
