through glass

back in the shadows

when trees bend

and wind can be heard

through glass

a pressure felt

through a door

with a screen

across the room

incredibly speed

like an attack

at chest level…

fight the never matter

gotta fight the urge

to go outside on the porch

might fall back into a bad habit

recently kicked out

like breaking a window

to get into a car

or use a coat hanger

whether it is easier or not

he’ll take the call

even if he is sleeping silent

and then the traffic picks up again

as if it never stopped

even for a moment

even if that moment

can never matter again…

crazy with the thoughts

crazy with the thoughts

you can tell she is getting worse

sitting where he does he may not

realize it gets hard to understand

words come out all jumbled

and with the constant ramble he may go mad

all at once he tries so hard to understand

let her make sense of it all be patient

when she doesn't he gives up just a little bit

each day it gets harder to take care

two instead of just one

somehow she feels for him a second

rubs his back and says I know I know

forgets how to drink her coffee

does this every week and still can't remember

maybe she will surprise him tonight

with a memory of who she was and really is

who are we all that we know or more

same confusion until the body gives up

on the mission before us all

the sounds remind us

something else will get rid of the thoughts

time will pass and neither her or him will know

who she is confused and alone

he tries to keep her company now

she is lost and he will not give up

on looking for her everywhere...

ten definitions

wish eyes were not crossed

the bridge was steady under foot

heavy at times as light as air

cleaner than only days ago

seems strange to think it might slow down

take notice of all the staring faces

everyone's staring with those eyes

that say they don't trust each other

or anyone for that matter

he has ten definitions

and none of them are truly believable

he sits waiting for the train of thought

arriving with everyone around

as if there was a celebration

waiting for the end of another conversation

after which questions will be raised

like flags on poles symbolic of some freedom

how many really feel free

work all day and don't know half the story

never mind the rest...

don't ask

don't ask he's awake entirely too early

trip to the RMV and he's convinced

they get paid more to be rude

it's 830am and this middle aged man

is already having a bad day

he smiles and realizes he can get nowhere

with this woman she is dead set on being

miserable

'look here—read line 2'

'sign here—in the box'

'sit there—look here

and smile if you want.'

don't ask he thinks she must be up

entirely too early as well

luckily the entire miserable

process only took 15 minutes...

under a shaky fan

sitting cross-legged in a green booth
under a shaky ceiling fan that might fall
back to the idea of words on the page
in happiness in rage rising to the top
of this bottomless cup of bitter coffee
would rather drink tap water
no matter what is in it
sitting cross-legged until the knees
start to ache then feet onto the floor
carpet of pins and needles
right through shoes just like that
wearing a long sleeve shirt
wearing out on the elbows
he can feel the cold sticky table under
pushing the pen everyday wishing
for a day when it will push back
hair under thinking hat
staring off into the night
probably thinking about someone
who would never sit across the table
legs crossed again understand the ramble
from one end of the day to the other
next minute up and out the door
on a mission impossible to describe
with words in detail
left to the imagination
if there is any left
swimming in indecision
confusion...

gonna do it anyway

what is he supposed to do when he feels

empty no inspiration

some will say pick up a book

some might even say pick up a gun

he picks up the pen instead

shoots blanks and tears the page

what's he going to do when everyone

laughs at the words he finds staring

back from the page who knew

they would never really look within

to see what resides deep

what is he supposed to do

when the wind blows him over

and no one understands

truly he doesn't care he is going to do it

whether they buy it or not

whether they even read it

relate or respond

what else is he going to do

with all this nothing...

difference this time

back when it meant

something one might

believe words

only cloud skies

on a beautiful day

unbearable feeling

reaching a point

found emptiness

fighting the despair

confidence has to be

the difference this time…

thunder at the end

out on the porch

suddenly ninety degrees

not quite humid

glad for that

makes people crazy

a strong breeze

keeping everyone cool enough

sun for one day

evening approaches

some even hope for some

thunder to end the day…