Day 84 – Where the Cattails Grow

Where will you be tomorrow
if the feeling finds you out,
discovers you’ve been on the run
for too long?

Will you be running back
to where the cattails grow,
to the falling snow,
to your quietest moments
wrapped up and
thrown into the sea?

Will you give my best
when you get there,
to the places I can’t go;

will you be there tomorrow
where the cattails grow?


Day 77 – Remember When

Remember when your friends
were not your coworkers,
when you didn’t have to play
every game on easy mode
because you don’t have the time
for all that effort?

Remember when you didn’t count calories?

Remember when your mom
sent you to bed
without supper,

remember when you didn’t have teeth?

Remember when you were dead set
on being famous,
when you weren’t scared,
when you drank Red Bull,
when you got arrested for burglary,
when you ate shrooms
and ran over a cat?

Well stop.

I’m not going to use your memories against you,
the ones you have and
the ones you don’t.

Some day you might remember this;
and it won’t matter if you do.

Year 2: Day 13 – Welcome Back

“Welcome back,
you were hardly happy out there”
is the gurgling sound made by my
sneering, protected heart.

What does it know of gratitude?
What does it know of me?

Oh, but it knows a thing it wants
and needs no further permission
than to pang me near to death.

I only bow because it tripped me,
only kneel because I fell
and it just laughs to see me
giving up the fight-

what does it know of gratitude
for a quiet life of me,
what does it know of opting out,
of settling in?

“Welcome back,” it sings to me
as if I’d hardly ever left,
“come inside, sit by the fire,
and let it be.”


Don’t forget to check out my first anthology, Candy Pizza: Poetry that’s Fun and Healthy, available on Amazon & Kindle.


Day 253 – The Way Back

The day I said ‘I got this’
was the day I spun around
and skipped off merrily

I have not stopped rewinding
since then-
perpetual reverse,
uncanny strangeness,
and the meadows plastic.

Green sunshine on dry rivers,
nonsense world approaching death
and I compelled to blind motion,
terror-stricken, to my end.

Who has let the land go mad
to suck all logic from my hands,
to hurl me ever back to birth,
to die where I began?

And who could set it back again,
what power could reclaim
an inverse, deranged existence
speeding to its conclusion?

The wildflowers seal their reeking petals
as nightrise starts the day,
and as I struggle to lift my hands
my knees areĀ failing-

sprawled over scrambled clouds
I cry for help and all suspends-
suddenly there is such light
that I can see my way no more

and I’ve begun again.