Day 103 – Time to Be

I don’t notice the mountains anymore
though they’re right in front of me-

driving to work straight facing a miracle of nature.

I hear sounds but I don’t care
where they’re coming from,
I have time off but I don’t feel
much relaxed.

There are Christmas flowers, scarlet and white,
all dead in the window, still

and I wonder when it happened
that I stopped having time
to be.


Year 2: Day 166 – We’ll Always Be Dancing

If my head is a snow globe
and figures frozen in time
are all I can keep,
are all that will last in the end,
then when you and I fade away
we’ll always be dancing.

Like museum scenes we’ll stand,
other eras surrounding,
all those who turned into wax,
all the ones who turned into
somebodies I don’t know.

The man who was young
when he bought me a ring,
before he knew we couldn’t
grow up ’til we said goodbye-
he and I, in our underwear,
will always be playing Nintendo.

The man who was lost
when I found his heart,
when we’d hide from the truth
of an ugly world behind dumpsters,
there he and I will stay,
shooting milk cartons
with our slingshots.

The man who understood
what my pen tried to say,
tucked into a cabin
with the snow falling down,
so calmly I’ll always be
writing him
and he’ll always be painting me.

And you, the man who
I hardly knew, took my hand and
brought a reckless, lively joy
in your temporary wake-
you who were a gamble
that bloomed for me
under colored, flashing lights-
though others come
take their place in my snow globe head,
you and I will remain,
always dancing.

Year 2: Day 156 – The Decimal Rap

In this world
where we all live
we got Ones and Twos
and you’ll have to forgive
me for lumpin’ ’em all
into two basic groups
but that’s just how it is,
that’s the honest truth.
We got Ones who live
like they’re never gonna die,
and every single day
is a slice of pie
and we got Twos who pray
like they could die tomorrow,
no time for fun,
they’re busy singin’ the sorrow,
and neither group ever really
knows what’s up
they all drink the same water
from a dixie cup
and we all pick a side
to help us get by
except me…
and where am I?

somewhere in between,
I’m a point in the middle
of two extremes,
I can’t stay with the Twos
where I was raised
but I can’t join the Ones
because they’re kinda crazed.
an approximation,
a repeating counter
of my frustration.
I can’t live life
like it’s just for pleasure
but I know that every day
is absolutely a treasure.
an improper fraction
that never quite reaches a whole,
an abstraction.
I know there’s ways to argue,
make each side sound better
but until they reach a compromise,
I’m dead center.
before I leave this joint-
doesn’t every whole number
have an invisible point?

Year 2: Day 150 – Heart Sauce

It comes up like acid
when you swallow it down,
your numba one stunna roll knocked down a peg
’cause your heart’s too busy leaking its noise-
you know that flavor-
that heart sauce’ll put hair on your chest.

It’s not when your heart is breaking,
not that stuff; it’s not your lifeblood.
It’s the sour-thick coat that boils up your throat
when your heart gets squeezed beyond breath
by all that’s unfair, by all that’s tragic,
by what would be perfect in any other world.

Life is almost too sweet to handle sometimes.
You get your insides coated in pepper spray
and it puts the hair on your chest-
your numba one stunna roll knocked down a peg
because you couldn’t have imagined how bitter
and yet how soberingly perfect
real significance would feel.

Year 2: Day 136 – The Monster

He and I gave birth to a monster,
a fire-breathing beast that we named when we were young,
a fruit which at once has poisoned and has healed.

I have tried to tame it
and I have tried to kill it;
I have prayed that it would be sated
to hibernate and leave me be
but it will not heed my efforts-
it remains.

Yet I have grown a hundred ways
trying to resist it,
it has added strength each time it knocked me down,
and would my heart have any grain at all
had it not been opened
and clawed apart
and sewn back up?

We made a monster
and I deserve its lashes.
I’ve no other way to live and be at peace.
If a monster we conceived was made immortal
then perhaps the monster made was meant to live.