Winter (Bleeding Ink)


This is the poem I write

When there’s no music

When I sit in the dark

My legs aching

My hands shaking

I tried writing drunk

But it only made the demons come out of

The woods

The voices had been sleeping

In the back of my mind

I’m just a selfish person

In a selfish world

I have stories

In my mind

I hold on to them

Believing it will buy me more time

Didn’t they tell you

It won’t let go

Just because you get old

But you can out grow

Some of these impulses

I can’t write

About the girl

With the brown hair

The dark eyes

The bruise behind her leg

I can’t write

About the “summer air…”

I’m beaten down

What have I become?

Someone said

Writer’s are just vampires

suck you dry

And leave you

Declaring you will never


If they love you


(They never really love you …)

While all the stars are out tonight

I always have poems behind my eyes

I try to write

What I wish was written

I try to write

Without complaining

We will never be 17 again

never 21 again

never see you

Go through my shit again.

I always dream

Buckets under the sink

I wake up

Feeling the cold air through kitchen window frame

Why do we do the things we do

The water lines freeze

This house is made of shit

Have you ever woke up to the sound of termites ?

I still carry it in mind

And it’s frightening but I guess we do what we have to do

And so do you…

There’s a boy just over there

Shoveling the septic tank

He’s ashamed

He’s too young to figure it out

And when he’s old enough

He won’t care anyhow

And we all lived didn’t we?

We pack ourselves

With light

We fill the void with anything


I wake up

Because it won’t let go

It won’t let go

Just because you get old ….

And I’m afraid

Of what I’ve become

She always said

I was too much

Something else

She couldn’t label

And it’s lonely

Cold weather

When you prefer the winter…

I prefer the cold night air…


Post card from desolation road (it’s all over now)

She called me late


Settled in her hair

The cool cool air

chilled me inside

my bones

And I kept thinking

About the ocean blue

Where the sun warmed our skin

but now

it’s all sold

And it’s so cold

we’re all so lonely now …

if it’s just the same to you…

And she was calm and she was cool

Her face was set

She lit another cigarette

Against the coming storm

You couldn’t help but think about all of the men

Who let this beast of burden in

The blatant loud disregard hung in the air like cigar

Filling old newspaper rooms

They’re empty now

Just like me

Just like you

You know we can’t go back

We’ve crossed all of these old bridges

We’re fighting ghosts

In our restless hands

She wrote me

And she didn’t know what to say

She only knew the way she felt


How everything has turned to grey

And there’s one too many full moons

In the sky tonight


Here I am

My pen and my Gin

Thinking about how there

Was a time

A brief time

When we

Looked bright

In the springtime

But now

I think

We are destined

To be the lonely

Filling the empty

Shells of buildings

With dreams of a future


On desolation road

That Golden Highway

Runs from here to the salt in the sea

Don’t look now

It’s turned to desolation road…

And all of our daughters

And all of our sisters

Woke up today

With less than they had yesterday

Better not think too much about it

Better not get too used to it

it’s just life on desolation road.

Photo by Ethan Bethune



What are you
afraid of And
why do you shake?
Is it demons
from the past Or the shadows
in our wake?
He folded the paper
Put it in his pocket

He watched
The bodies turning in the moonlight
Hanging at the cross roads
Hung for everyone to see

There in front of the church.

blood running down the roots of the tree

He’s older now, but he remembers

As everyone gathers at the alter…

The dust still sticking to his shoes…

I met him when he was older. His hands shaking, as he told me…

What he did at the docks…

Shooting a man for seven hundred dollar bills because he only had five.

He said you never forget the light leaving their eyes…

The things you do just to fit in.

Keeps you up at night….

We like to think we changed

But it wasn’t that long ago.

It was only yesterday.

Letters to a Nurse #21

Photo by Ethan Bethune

I wonder if anyone ever really escapes their origins?

Do we run continuously?

I think we are who we are

Never mind the what

So long as The Who in us overcomes,

Can we overcome?

I woke up and reached for you

But you’re not here

The bed is empty

I was afraid

What if years had passed

Would it be the same

Without you here?

I was afraid to look in the mirror and see

If I was older

Would I remember the taste of your lips?

The curve of your hips

Your eyes burning through me

I think my soul

Looks for you

In every room

No one else is you…


The earth reaches for the moon

How do I live

Without you?

Stuck here

Between the hours

Did you see us here?

Left my pain

In the yesterday –

those hours


They are gone away

Nothing is ever here to stay

Sometimes I wake up

And I see us still

Reaching for all old things

The way we were

The way we are

Whether it is where we wanted it it to be-

Here we are