You stand firm on all sides, a gray knight, admirably trudging through day after day in an office with a window just big enough to see a sliver of parking lot and a needle of blue sky and paper clouds, but you stand firm on all sides. You come home to an empty kitchen, … More An Ode to the 5 P.M. After-Work Cooking Show
I can hear you singing through these thin walls, a song I don’t know. It flutters softly, taps gentle against the plaster, creeps under the door and curls snug in my ears. Your voice is beautiful. Like warm wind across my cheekbones, soft sighs and interlaced hands, voice like the purr of rain against … More The Walls are Thin
In the park after work, just trying to have a smoke. Watching the children run around with the day dying behind them. The playground has become a swath of illuminated red plastic and shadows that spider-web across the gravelly sand from the jungle-jim. Mothers are giving me nasty looks from their places on the park benches; smoking is prohibited here. … More A Wonderful World
I fell in love with you when you were four and a half years old,
(you proclaimed it so proudly, I assured you I already knew)
On a windy day sometime in—April? May? One of those early … More Little Men
The summer air is hot against my face and there is no breeze; just sweat and sun sitting on my cheeks and forehead. I’m blinking slower than usual as I lay on the deck. The boards are scratchy and worn; I can feel them through my thin shirt. I’ve already got a splinter so I … More Boy, Uprooted
I kick my feet off—no, that’s wrong—I kick my shoes off and make my way to the living room. The lights are dim in the hallway and there’s wallpaper—wallpaper—bubbling up and casting chubby shadows on a surface that should be smooth. I scrape my fingernails along it as I slump along the laminate floor. I … More The Ceiling Sometimes Falls
And maybe this is All there is to it. (waking up and waking up again) Maybe all there is Is another day— One sunrise after the next. (doesn’t it ever change?) Maybe there’s more to it But it’s out there Beyond your reach (because there’re bills to pay and mouths to feed and a safe, … More People Make Do
My father was a giant who lived in the clouds. He had a full beard, thick and rugged, that would rasp against me when he’d kiss my cheek and a long, crooked nose. His dark eyes were sharp and his grin broad. My mother was a wisp next to him, a paper cut-out of a … More Paper Queen
There was one day in the car On that way back from who-knows-where With my iPod plugged in playing Only the oldies (Because You’re so freaking picky, gosh mom) Where the sun was setting and the Music was turned up, all the way up Almost as loud as it could go And we were singing … More For My Mom Who Thinks I Curse Her Under My Breath
Ticket please. The train car was stuffy and dimly lit, with the fading light of day peeking in through the windows. The conductor moved, achingly slow through the narrow walkway, stopping to turn at each pair of seats. He was a thin, stiff man with dead, fish eyes that rolled towards the passengers with barely … More Upstanding Citizens
just some crumby business
Catching up with life
poetry, photography, and life according to me
we are in rhythm with the universe
just some crumby business
Catching up with life
poetry, photography, and life according to me
we are in rhythm with the universe
