Restless hands

Out on the highway

Out there on the long way

Where the lights follow you close behind

There’s a bend in the road

Where only god knows

Where the lights go


She appears

Where he turned his back on her way back when…

Chased his restless flame


Her tears turned to rain

Rain flowed into rivers

Rivers into oceans

And oceans never fill….

We are beaten by the crashing waves

Only god knows

How to understand

How to hold

These restless hands


Father Time

Broke Mother Nature

And only God knows

How to understand ….


There’s something about grace

There’s something about the contradiction of the heart and mind

And these

Restless hands

Ice storms

We used to have these ice storms

We would go out afterwards

Play football in the driveway

Ride our bikes

Trying not to wreck

Pretending to Rally Race

Skin our elbows and knees until they bled


I always wanted to be a football player…


We burned some trees in our back yard and I remember the heat…

Sometimes it felt like things couldn’t get hotter than that.


And then you sit down and try to write

And that vulnerable

That nakedness

Staring at you on the page

It’s like a woman opening up to you

Or letting you go down on her

Really opening up


If you don’t honor that

What are you?


You try to write

You don’t want to whine

You don’t want to echo

And you don’t know

It feels like we are all saying the same things

You feel out of place

The wrong year

The wrong life

What do you do with your time

Someone told me they were falling out of love

It was like trying to catch rain in a cup

Is anything sacred like intimacy?

I just keep writing

Because I can’t stop

They say that one day

You wake up and it’s off

Like love

It just leaves the room

But I keep being that romantic

I keep getting up

Saying good morning beauty

And writing anyway ….

I know that one day, one morning,

I’ll be closer anyway

One day, one morning, I’ll put my guards away.

Everything under the sun

You know I’m no good

there’s still time for me

To change


Every-thing under the sun

Just stays on repeat

The weatherman says

The world will implode

And the business man said

It’s about to snow


It seems to me

We should have kept those steel oats ….

Winter is short


Summer is long

I’d buy you an island maybe a beach

But you wouldn’t be happy hun

Maybe next year will be better

We’ll see….


The way you walked in the room

I thought you were looking at me

I guess it was just that saloon song

You know I’m no good

But there’s still time for me to change …


You know the world was no good

Until you walked in the room

Now it’s fire works and the fullest moon

I was drinking gin

But I switched to champagne

They say everything under the sun

Just repeats itself

That’s how the world was won

I keep selling to myself

That nights like this

Make a man dream…

I hope it repeats

Until I’m walking on the ceiling

Through to the moon

Shaking hands with the holy host

Write my name in the book of most

Maybe it was the saloon song

Maybe it was your kiss

But I think it’s time for a change


Time (women)

Be intentional.
Don’t waste people’s time.
You can be anything you want.
Courageous, bold. Real.
A poet. A teacher.
Just don’t be something you’re not.
‘Cos chances are, she already knows if you like her. Even before you do.
And if you waste her time, well, that’s really hard for intelligent people to forgive. It’s all we have. And there’s nothing more intelligent than a woman.

Forever is but a moment

My back yard

I just want solitude

And beauty too

And if that rings true

You don’t have to give me forever

Just another moment with you


Don’t let time pass you by

I know you have to go

The shadows are covering the sky

But I hope

I left you something


I hope

I left you something

To remember

I hope

In this solitude

this beauty

That is you

Out of mind

There’s a man

Going around

Passing out promises

Gold and silver too

But the success

Never reaches down this far


They won’t follow you down

And every woman I know

Works harder than two men

And they love

And they bleed

And they sew up our needs

And like Cash said

“When the man comes around”

Well, they won’t follow you down

So we fight

And we survive

Even when our paychecks

Barely make it through

What else are we to do

The silver and gold

Doesn’t come down this far

But they pass it around

With promises too

But they won’t follow you down


And I

I can’t write

My head is filled with clouds

I try to sit

But I can’t breathe

I watch the colour in the trees

And I think

About the dumpster on the side of the road where we used to get shoes and we used to get books…

And I think

About time

I hope I’ve used mine


I think about the old man

Who lived in a school bus

And had a teenager for a wife

Her eyes said she had escaped something worse

A sort of curse

But I was too young to understand

Now, I think as I try to write, what good am I? What good am I?

If we can’t listen

If we look away

What good am I

And what good have I done …

A clouded head is part of Crohn’s

Just like the ache in the bones

The shouting stomach

The anxiety and the depression

I write about it but I can’t talk about it

And you’ll never see it

I guess

We all are just stories in the end

And we want what we want

And we say it sets us apart

And we expect others to know

But part of us stays on the road

Because even we don’t know…

And all we have is time…

What we build

1958 Bruce Davidson

Jfk was keenly curious and aware. He traveled Europe and observed politics on the ground. He didn’t have to use historians, he saw first hand the propaganda machine.

He understood the importance of image.

Being a war hero, and ill himself, always in poor health. He somehow presented a positive energy and outlook that was contagious.

He was the blue print for a new brand and structure of politics.

His ideas were shaped from experience.

He was understanding, because he knew people consumed what they heard and saw. He understood the importance of democracy, that it had to work. It was the last best stand on earth.

I can’t help but wonder sometimes, how odd that we recall the death over the life. The women over the veteran,

Deeply curious about political history

He wanted to understand.

I want to understand

If this is the last best stand on earth …

What am I living for ?

What am I leaving ?

Most people want so desperately to be told what to do

And they don’t even know it

Not even when you tell them what to buy

They don’t know what they want

Or that they need something

Until we sell it to them

They don’t know who to vote for

Until it’s sold to them

What they believe

Until it’s sold to them


And images


It’s what we consume every day

I unplugged

This site is my only social media right now

Until after the new year

My head is in a fog

I never read

I want to write more

And really create

But I’m angry

I’m confused

I feel like we have more in common than we have differences

But now

We are constantly pitted against ourselves and against eachother

JFK understood things needed to change

We didn’t need a hand out

We needed a hand up

So we could get ahead

And so we could give back

We had a responsibility

But I wonder if we even know what that responsibility is

I ask myself if we even remember what a dream is ?

Or are we so deep in the mud

That we are fighting only ourselves now ….

I want to believe in a tomorrow

I want to believe in us

Because of us

We determine our future

And we can decide today

What we are building

Can endure


Requires repetition

We have to start somewhere

Why not here?

Why not now?

Why not us?

vers de coeur

l'année se sent éternelle
le solitaire
résonne à travers le vide à l'intérieur d'un cœur
j'essaye de t'écrire
j'essaye de ne pas m'accrocher aux choses
pour combler le vide
mais juste être
être ici maintenant
peut-être que les saints étaient seuls
peut-être le martyr
peut-être qu'aucun de nous n'est parfait
peut-être que nous pouvons juste être bons ...
laisse moi être bon
et soulager la douleur quelque part
et laisser quelqu'un
personne ne ressent ce que je ressens ...
et saches
s'il vous plaît savoir
que quand mes yeux ou mes pensées te voient
ils ne voient que toi
pas une illusion
et il y a de la poésie ...