Off to the races

There’s sanctity
in routine, familiarity
with the predictability
of the conductor’s
announcements,
but that doesn’t make
Monday morning
any more bearable,
just a little more
manageable.

(dtn)

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All joking aside

Wanna hear a joke?

Me too.

Don’t worry. I’ll wait.

(dtn)

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What matters

The ones we overlook
The ones we wait on
The ones we can’t undo
The ones we can’t do
The ones we can’t see
The ones we can’t unsee
The ones we fought for
The ones we fought over
The ones we fought against
The ones we love
The ones we
++can’t help but love
The ones we can’t
++bring ourselves to love
The ones we say we’ll get to
The ones we forgot we meant
The ones we meant to forget
The ones we still sing
The ones we still sing, badly
The ones we try to sing,
++not as badly as yesterday
The ones we haven’t heard yet
The ones we will need
The ones we needed but lost
The ones we lost
++but didn’t realize we needed
++until it was too late anyway
The ones we have
++but don’t realize we need
++and probably never will
The ones we …

(dtn)

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Melodies in static

There’s a push and pull
in this give and take,
a journey sacrificed
for this distance,
a frequency close enough
to be comfortable,
melodies in the static,
color in every drop of rain;
they were mountains
before boulders,
the sea before tears,
night from day
from night from
day in and day out.
We live only for
uncontrollable smiles and
the inconceivable reasons
that bring them to the light,
no lullabies for rivers,
no indefinable contemplations
in unsettled darkness,
just you
and you
and you
and me.

(dtn)

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More than this

The morning’s crisp shadows
and the infinite void
as the sun exposes the cracks.

The stretching willow wisps
kissed by the breeze
still heavy with night.

Conversations and courtesies
between alarm clocks
and vociferous sparrows.

The churning of fisherman
and throaty foghorns
in the rising bay.

The grinding of wheels
along steel snake skins
into the weekday.

The smiles on faces
half awake and half frozen
in the memories of dreams.

Would that I could bottle
all this in my lunchbox
for a midday fix.

(dtn)

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Words to my father

I probably never quite was
what you expected me to be,
but I try to be for them
all that you were for me.

(dtn)

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Story time

What, over so soon? Seriously?
Things were just getting good!
The twists and undulating promises.
The fore- and aft-shadowing.
What happened to the mouse?
I’ve counted all the beads. Twice.
And there’s still one missing.
A blue one, actually.
Slightly bloodied.
No, it can’t be over.
Not after all that.
I mean, sure.
++We’ve been at this for hours.
++We were up well before the bells.
++We’ve gone over this before.
+++More than once.
++++And it never changes.
But still…so soon? I’m not even sleepy!
Oh, but you are. Aren’t you.
(Notice that’s not a question.)
Why wouldn’t you be? I mean…
++We’ve been at this for hours.
++We were up well before the bells.
++We’ve gone over this before.
+++More than once.
++++And it never changes.
So let’s call it a night.
No. No more.
You need your sleep.

You.
Need.
Your.
Sleep.

Now.

About damn time.
++I mean, good night, girls.

(dtn)

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