lunacy.what the moon teaches us isMore Like This
no one exists as a constant.
some days you will orbit elsewhere.
the angles of light that
make up the shadows of you
will keep moving.
it is the same with the ocean
and how it does not meet
the shore the same each time:
some days it will come crashing,
eroding: or it comes back to kiss
its edges over and over
there are some days i am more
of a tsunami. there will be days
you will be eclipsed.
and i don't mind this. the moon is
up in the sky but the ocean still feels
the weight of its pull, always.
i want to drown in the
push and pull of your gravity
in all the ways that's possible.
i could get used to the
different phases of this:
i could get used to our lunacy.
They say the one who praysThey say the one who prays receives much moreMore Like This
than whom we pray for, shaping what we want
to what we get. We find a way to pour
the outcomes into candle molds we can't
have fashioned for ourselves. But then we light
the wax and sniff the scent and call us blessed
by blessings in disguise. For what is right
in contexts so complex we cannot test?
For those who say that praying contradicts
free will or undercuts the will to change
injustice, fine. You have no wax, no wicks,
no blessing and no curse, you are the sage.
I pray to sculpt the candle and the mold
and scent with pity earth and heaven's hold.
of selfi play the duplicitous roleMore Like This
of self and seeker;
for new ground
to stand my self upon.
People Living in Tunnels Under Las VegasThe newspaper headlines told me so.More Like This
As I was reading the article in my bed,
eating a handful of Oreos, I thought
about being wet.
Not the kind of wet (slipperyslidyfuntimes)
you want to be,
but the kind of wet you feel in your bones.
Wet like the time my grandfather left me and my sister
watching his tackle box by the side of the road
in Toronto in six inches of slush that
was slowly seeping into my socks,
while he bought cigarettes from the man
in the oversized poncho at the gas station.
And there are cities full of dreams
and cities full of dirt,
but Las Vegas is neither of those.
It’s a city instead with no name or face,
nothing recognizable you can reach out and touch.
Someone told me once that in Spanish
Las Vegas means “the fields.”
My grandfather told me once
on a fishing trip, while I sat
on top of his tackle box,
about the Asphodel fields.
How these Romans believed
people whose sins equaled the good they did
went to the Asphodel fields, and drank
from a river
ShyIn my world there's fun and adventureMore Like This
In your world I'm quiet
In my world when I talk, I don't hinder
In your world I hide it
I've got so much to say
I think of talking, but wont
You won't hear me anyway
I try, but then I don't
In your world you call it Shy
I want to come out
truly I try
but I hold back, no doubt
I just want to be friends
and make people grin
Lord, Help MeSave me from this strifeMore Like This
Cleanse the evil in my life
Sometimes it's dark and I'm scared
But I know with you I can be spared
Please help me whenever I sin
Because I don't want the devil to win