Day 143 – Ducklings

My ducklings have gone away today I
will not see them again they have
to grow, I have to rest that’s
how it works, that’s how it ends
but I have given
so much
of myself
now I’m not sure
how much is left
except now I know
how much room
there really is now I can
measure the space
they left and
it is bigger than I was
at the start


Day 88 – She

I saw her eyes
but she could not speak-
a miracle
wasting time

they welled with things
I couldn’t understand,
maybe now,
but not back then

I needed her to sing,
needed her to validate
my guitar,
needed her to be
what I was missing
in a song

but she was silent,
holding back

and I knew soon
she would be gone

Day 31 – Lavender & Lemon

My 4am coffees of yesteryear,
overpriced on a brand new credit card,
sweat-ring stuck on patio furniture,
melted ice to a watery cigarette bed,
are all gone.

I should sing about 7pm lavender and lemon,
about knowing better,
I should sing about knowing-
the only thing those 4am coffees
were worth.

I know.

But that’s why

I don’t sing.

Day 28 – Price

If the price for poetry
is the process continued
long into sleep
where it’s cruelly twisted
I will write about you
no more.

But if the price for sanity
is the opening of scars
as many times as necessary
into long nights
I will keep writing you
’til you’re gone.

Year 2: Day 134 – I Must Be Lost

Zebra daisies, snozberry wine,
dip into my dreams,
the purple water’s fine.
If you look for me and
you don’t find me there,
well I must be lost,
I must be waiting for you
to arrive.

Calico sunrise, juniper moon,
I’m always at¬†one end
of a glass balloon.
If you’re having trouble
tracking where I’ve gone,
well I must be lost,
I must be counting down
to you.

Saccharine cactus, wings of the sea,
my dreams are mine
but they are not me.
If you can’t find me in dreams
where I belong,
well I must be lost-
or you must not see where I
could be.

Year 2: Day 95 – White Space

On your map there is a white space where I live-
nothing but the whisper wind and the flecks of rubber
where you erased.

It’s a normal world here that you forgot,
the family’s doing fine,
our white-washed coordinates in full color
hid under the bleach blanket of your mind.

But I have not forgotten you.
You’re in airplanes all the time-
do you look down and wonder
what hurt you so much
just beneath that blank white space?

I have heard about landscapes, covered in snow
which can hide all the ugliness, all the unrest,
which can paint a more picturesque scene,
that they put on the covers of Christmas cards-

but pain uncovers a map
and life deserves more honesty than that.
Fly over my white space and know
that I remember.

Day 288 – I Wonder

I wonder if it’s because you feel me
that you reach to touch
thin air.

I wonder if you roll over at night
half-awake, for hogging the blankets
when I’m not there.

I wonder if you know I’m leaving
at all-
if it’s only subconsciously
that your instincts react
to pull
but you don’t know why.

I wonder if some part of you panics
to sense that I’m already gone.

I wonder where you were
when I left.