Sugar and Lies

Stop Go, Home

The black, the hope, and the ladder

Down to Earth

Onward Downward Falling

Middle Whims

Bike USA

Freeze Frame

Write a poem about living with lies.

“Write about taking the subway.”

and the sky breaks free.

“Write about the future when the past was bad, but today was good.”

Yesterday was the oldest day I ever had. it swam and buried the sky in a wet year the moments were patches of passing unlifted was the day so burned, it shriveled with no passion in the oven, tasteless and runny, chalky and crude.

Today sits up and breathes away the holes it moves infinite and speedy like love, packing neatly into minutes so fresh. Controlled and clear, today bundles my mind. Today, the harvest is freckled with red kisses.

So, I raise a glass to the tomorrow, It preps the table holding all strings all presents wrapped frozen for sweet and shy it may melt, sizzling and drumming it may fold and we may only trickle through, casting the black aside and white in, all for the undone days.

“Write a poem about an angel turning human.”

Hello heaven,

can you feel my gravestone

linger like the one day cold?

You made a tumbling world move

pushed every curve into herds

pushed every pound into pines

in one thousand ways, this rock alive.

Yet, here I browse in the subway-

watching rats in the dark

shuffles in the cracks.

God’s gravity has grown so stale,

once overfilling and now just drizzling

like the graffiti I feel on my own skin

lighter with the memories.

Disengaged from the wind- I ache,

waiting for my wings to froth and fro

with me old temperature that fought the ground

until the clouds showed me rain

and I pelted and pelted with the water down

and mud and snow and the grey

and then I am the wild shadow called human

skimming through the blinking universe

bridging the cold and the hot

searching for a breakthrough,

breaking everything for a handhold in the sky

where one day I will return,

and the winds with take my home.

“dizzy vertical drops”

The air in my head formed a pretzel,

salty and fashioned like hard bread,

unbundling my sanity on the fall

Onward, the memories plunge into me.

wind howling with ancient tempest

all purpose taken by the scooping clouds,

I feel my neurons screech criminally

they break and crack, raspy; crunch.

Onward, the sky screams into me.

Into the dizzy blue, all past above,

controls blasting away from memory

panicked knots of visions hot, singeing the sky.

Onward, the Earth plunges into me,

one shadow flickering through sharp branches.

“The whimsy of early middle age.”

What I learn, is what I gain, because I see years ahead, and years all gone.

In casual victories, I tighten my reigns on my life’s core

so it shall last- on the rough roads ahead and the unbalanced waves.

Sojourning upward, the only direction for freedom the welcoming stations around, and sharpened careers found.

No more surplus seconds. Time to set sail once and set sail far and fair, before storms can shake the sky.

“Write about a young man going on a cross-country bike trip across America.”

It feels strange at night, when I feel a wooden stool or sunken couch, instead of my bike on pavement.

Every hour I sleep- is a vacation, from the dream I live on macadam. When I wake to drain the sun from my eyes and pedal on for more.

When I finish rolling like a cloud through the sky, then I will be glad, for every bump in the road long gone.

“That sinking feeling you get when you realize you just screwed up and time freezes for a moment. Like the moment the car door closes and you realize the keys are inside.”

Sinking into that moment, when the moment takes all. Time itself blooms bleakly inside. Planting cold stones in my belly.

In my unprepared moments, no matter how hard I squeeze, the sky isn’t moving, so I lack the feeling to feel- more than the pit that pulls.

Swelling like an invisible storm; it laughs frozen, as my chest falls- behind my breath, taking us out to sea.

Yesterday was the oldest day I ever had.
it swam and buried the sky in a wet year
the moments were patches of passing
unlifted was the day so burned,
it shriveled with no passion in the oven,
tasteless and runny, chalky and crude.

Today sits up and breathes away the holes
it moves infinite and speedy like love,
packing neatly into minutes so fresh.
Controlled and clear, today bundles my mind.
Today, the harvest is freckled with red kisses.

So, I raise a glass to the tomorrow,
It preps the table
holding all strings
all presents wrapped frozen
for sweet and shy it may melt,
sizzling and drumming it may fold
and we may only trickle through,
casting the black aside and white in,
all for the undone days.

What I learn, is what I gain,
because I see years ahead,
and years all gone.

In casual victories,
I tighten my reigns
on my life’s core

so it shall last-
on the rough roads ahead
and the unbalanced waves.

Sojourning upward,
the only direction for freedom
the welcoming stations around,
and sharpened careers found.

No more surplus seconds.
Time to set sail once
and set sail far and fair,
before storms can shake the sky.

It feels strange at night,
when I feel a wooden stool
or sunken couch,
instead of my bike on pavement.

Every hour I sleep- is a vacation,
from the dream I live on macadam.
When I wake to drain
the sun from my eyes
and pedal on for more.

When I finish rolling
like a cloud through the sky,
then I will be glad,
for every bump in the road long gone.

Sinking into that moment,
when the moment takes all.
Time itself blooms bleakly inside.
Planting cold stones in my belly.

In my unprepared moments,
no matter how hard I squeeze,
the sky isn’t moving,
so I lack the feeling to feel-
more than the pit that pulls.

Swelling like an invisible storm;
it laughs frozen,
as my chest falls-
behind my breath,
taking us out to sea.