Staying Close

Hatred is one way to get attached,
Staying close, staying ready for a grudge-match.
Some people saturate themselves in a place,
Head-butting brick walls in the service of change,
But not me.
I'm back to the place where things never felt wrong;
My ambition's to stay the one place I've belonged.

A Golden Ocean

She smiles me a mountain range, a pristine powder day.
Her hair's a golden ocean, shining purity in waves.
Her voice is like the songbird sings, so thoughtlessly in tune,
Her eyes a futurist's computer, fitting the whole world in a spoon,
Though none of these are signs that I have never seen before
In the ranks of people whose praises I'm not singing anymore.
I really don't think that she's worth the risk,
But I'm gonna get old if I don't take one quick.

The World Walks On

The world walks on around, day by day,
Like you did when you walked away,
Almost leisurely in turning everything.
There was no great crash, no thundering
End to the world–I only heard it behind my face.
It took no work to hide my private disgrace
Within the four walls of my mind, and of my home
So that when I am suffering, I'm sheltered; I'm alone.

Ten Years

It's ten years to the day since your voice was heard
In the last, breathless shout of snuffing it out.
and I've since sworn that no more
Will readers hear your life in my voice,
But I still hear your death in the wind's voice,
at least when I'm not listening.

A Starless Night

Fair early in a starless night
I walk 'neath black and bitter skies,
and Jack Frost numbs my long-healed sores–
Fights long-forgotten, little wars
Far bigger than my fights today,
Which start over the words I say
and progress no further thank in kind,
My taste for conflict long-declined.

Those lead me first to thoughts impure
Which soon a moment's smile cures.

Fifty Ways to Skin a Verse

You can sew up a sonnet, one line at a time.
You can frame up your argument and cover it in rhyme.
You can write yourself a paragraph, then trim off all the fat.
All poets know the sayings, like the one 'bout skinning cats.

There must be fifty ways to skin a verse.
The problem is choosing which bones to pick first.

I Am/Not

I am not a golden boy.
I am not my father's son.
I am not the sum of my credentials
Or the least of my achievements.

I am not out to get you.
I am not here for the party.
I am not saying this to upset you,
But we are who we're mistaken for,
Sooner or later.