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

Millennial

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photo origin
1
Your favourite thing
Was words;
Lucid,
Opaque,
Provocateur,
Provocatrix,
Lurid,
Woman.
2
You always told me
To tear down
My walls…
But I wasn’t
Really listening
(It’s hard to hear
When you’ve got it figured out)

Loss changes us ….
It’s vivid …
The brevity of time
Can be seen
Frail and flawed
3
I’m just a millennial
I assumed we …
Would live forever
Or at least until
The world ends
But for
All I “knew”
And all I was “entitled to”
I didn’t know
About time …
About a pill in a bottle
A bullet in a gun
Or a chemical reaction
Called epilepsy
These things had never
Had anyone’s name on them…

Loss Changes us…
And now
I have a lot of words
I didn’t get to use.

But I finally wrote this one down
I took down my walls
And I started to live…

Let the great world spin (25)

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Birmingham
I heard about a man
Who cuts his skin
And does heroin
to say it’s his body
I knew a girl
She closes herself emotionally
To say it’s her body
That was then
But
after all these years
We’re still dying in cages

The walkway
The native who smells bad
everyone avoids him
Like so much water
Around stones
Wearing the same clothes
Day by day
He just looked up at me
And told me about Korea
About his pain
While another man
Clean and sharp
But with hallow eyes
told me about
Normandy
And
After half a century
We’re still dying in foxholes
Trying to get it right…

25
Now I’m at my window
Is 25 halfway to 50?
midnight halfway to morning?
depression halfway to empty?

if I said
I want you next to me
But still crave
An empty window
To write in
Would you understand?
I feel, everything
Everyone
In a room
I feel everything you say
Before you say it
I hear it
In that space
When your eyes look at the floor
Then dart back at me
Just before you speak
And would you understand
That I’m not boasting
I’m not
Not everyone is like this
It is the most isolating thing I’ve known.
So I want you
I want your body
Your lips
I want to love you like a blind man
Feeling every part of you
Reading you like Braille
Until you come apart …
But I’m still this person
I’m still me.
25
Somewhere
Between 50
And half empty.
Trying.

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America

on the American dream
I want you to think
About the good things …
A glass of bourbon
Rum
Vodka
White wine
Hard sole shoes
A good tie
An old type writer
The smell of books

That feeling you get when you are
Walking in a garden barefoot
When you pay off your first vehicle
Second vehicle
And even your third vehicle
Writing your first novel
Meeting a goal
Standing in a good thunderstorm
Letting it soak you to the bone
And how it’s even better
Sensual
When you share it with someone

Some things are good
In solitude
I’m a fan of solitude
Some things are better
With a co-pilot
I don’t understand
We talked a lot
About the
American dream
Growing up
I think it’s different things to
Each one of us
It’s reaching inside
And understanding
What that language
Your language is
And speaking it
It’s being best man
In your brothers wedding
It’s knowing that failure is not
Permanent
It’s human connection
It’s the high
Not living to check things off
Or to escape
It’s living to share
To give
To read each others story
Understanding
That
It becomes a chapter
In our own
The moment we share it
The moment we kiss
The moment we come over
The moment we leave
The American dream
Is being able to do these things
It’s being able to stumble
It’s being able to fail
It’s being able to correct
It’s that struggle
Personal struggle
But it’s ours

I hope
As you grow
You grow
To support
The arts
The expression
I hope you fight
For human connection
For that spirit
That’s strong
Like a blind man’s eyes
That cold fight
I hope you lean in
And are authentic
When it is easier
To be something else
When I was growing up
The world was vast
And mysterious
We stapled national geographic
To our walls
We spread out maps on the floor
Now it’s on our phone
A skype call
A video chat
A letter
Just remember
No matter what America looks like
Or any nation that you
Make your home
You are a piece of it
You represent it
So be good
Be kind
Be open
Be strong
Have courage
Be fearlessly authentic

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Tuesday philosophers

Together in a classroom
I feel everyone’s heartbeat
As we share our points of view
Openly discussing everything
From ketchup to Miley Cyrus
Everything but the key things that matter
Are they important ?
Either way , we seem to freeze .
Afraid of loaded questions
Of being wrong or judged

We are so afraid
I realize
as I sit in the silence
You can feel it
In the heartbeat .