Candles

it's my birthday tomorrow,
no one here could know,
i was born this thursday
twenty-two years ago.
and i feel stuck watching history repeat me
well am i just a kid who knows he's needy



Something's stirring in the trees
a stale air does move the leaves
it holds me here, this ill-birthed breeze
float you grey-hued feather
from the tangled heather
the sober song of a bird then cried
you were born the day that summer died

early august

i walk the mowing fields
uniform golden stalks cut down
combed, pathed and thatched
revealing furrowed ground
to the edge of the field
fir limbs and pine boughs
reach from the dark wood hollows
to the new and uncut fields
where the stalks and stems stand tall
full with no machine-line shadows
their heavy whiskered heads
lean sideways as if to hear
songs of birds
thoughts of bees
and rabbits words
the sun lurking in the west
on the glowing jagged crest
crowned with golden praise
and outstretched rays
to burn the mountain breast
now the valleys fade
into dark-hued hilltop shade
turn the corner to where the hay is laid
in soft feathered rows
combed smooth in lines
and sleep in repose
to the southwest corner
where the elm and birch trees
stand round tina's old house
and ill-kept yard
freckled with dead leaves
like some memories discard
turn left
behind; the salmon colored sky
where there was sun
and polar pink-hued purple
where there is none
and this old tar road
no lines or curbs
nor signs but those
that farmers and grandparents chose
for foreigners to mind
a single cricket finds my ear
finds it well
and plays as if to praise
or soon cast a spell
on the pale sliver in the sky
to bring it low, or take him high
one last turn around hopper and peck
on this road that seldom winds
all bare save the poles
and the their two power lines
come to the parsonage
and the old church van
the yellow ped-sign
with the black stick man
walking with a floating head
and appendagless hand
the road we used to walk
sometimes i still do

alice

Upon this bench my thoughts collect and compose
Memories of one I met a year ago
The withered leaves from naked trees
Blow peacefully on bye
I in repose and dark-hued clothes under September sky

We had been through so much together
My dear sweet Alice and I
In our short time of dark damp weather
And we had some good times but
-The best I can’t make rhyme
Only in the end when like faded friends
-You left without saying goodbye
You just left me alone with my pen and
-Paper
See you later then

I did dream one night that I had wed
A lonely girl with chestnut hair
Whose coffee eyes in pensive stare
Could move my dreams outside my head
But dreams are best when left unsaid
For often they will bring despair
When born to life we soon find them
-Lying dead

Slowly as the seasons changed for reasons of the dying sun
-She had become
Unstable and undone
To whom could she run
When the memories fade
And shes holding a gun
In heroic grey shades

So she sits on the edge of her bed
Without tears left to shed
And shes picturing me
When I find her there dead
And shes finally free
And I’m holding my head
Saying how can this be
You could have killed me instead

Then she touches the note
That she sprayed with perfume
And the words that she wrote
Like the scent of the room
Linger in empty evening dress like a rose
-That could not bloom

In the dark a decision is made
And a shell hits the floor
Shes no longer afraid
And she leans on the door (what the hell was it for)
It’s been years since she prayed
But she needs them no more
All is quiet in my life like it was before


My secret dead wife whose short invented life
-Is not just what I remember
The haunting pictures on my wall
Her hair ties I wear on my wrist
The wedding rings
We made from string
The shirt I wore when we first kissed
And the vows we made but could not bring
-Ourselves to keep like we had wished
She will be missed

emails

she types out her heart with thoughtless care
or so i guessed in my best despair
don't send to me so carelessly
all your cavalier memories
that make me wish i could be there
with you and your sister
summer night coming back from the fair
jump out of the car and dance all night
dip spin twirl you close in, briefly tight
and let you go to dance alone
come back to me under the street lamp light
this feels right
i read this and think of you, you do too
think of me so carelessly
to remind me you remember