Friday, October 21, 2011


ghost whispers

That’s the story
Lived in Rachel’s shadow.
Never enough
Never the right thing.
Always lauded
Often acclaimed
Yet never claimed as a prize.
Always lacking
The salient bits
At least
In the hero’s eyes.

Sunday, October 02, 2011


a reluctant manifesto

I can’t do it anymore.
Not that the garden of delight
Is not a theme park
Ridden with dopamine.
I just saw the reality.
It will never be me.
I don’t want to be a side dish
A choice tater from a goes-with menu.
You have him
And he is enough.
If you need something more
You will have to find it elsewhere.
The buffet is closed.
Make a choice
Take a stand
And grow up.


scrabbling scrawl

I can smell him on my moustache
The man I released to hunt again,
What is wrong with me?
This is what I do…
When I’ve got game.
Yet something was wrong
In my heart
Or neurosis overwhelmed practicality
My ability
To fence in my manic disability
Failed me…
Or fate saved me.
Which is the truth?
I cannot say.
Whether other crashing realities
Colored my view of what should be
Or laid quietly
Along the road to epiphany…
A credentialed person will have to explain.

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