Running Away

I think I can hear it

the pinging in my ears

they were never welcome

we roll around

crash into walls

it hurts

leave me then

your scarlet testimony

what falls in pieces

I am done here

I am done with it all

Cold

So many trains

all leading to distant December destinations

crammed full of strangers breathing

clouds against the windows’ glass

as they exhale their expectations

            Convinced we knew the future from what was

            afraid to confront the past in

            what we had

            become

But for the desperate promise to find

a summer unknown

we dismantled the track that would 

lead us back home

            No one remembered the snowstorm in

            the mountains

            how we yearned to crash

            to ride this shivering disappointment

            right down to its

            final gasp

When all aboard ride the night train alone

mark the passing of the time with the

falling of the

snow

No use in unpacking for tomorrow    

tomorrow is a thousand midnight

dreams of color

away

Judgment

I have considered you as
I watch the creeping
mold overtake the
paint on the
walls.
As the dampness of an
unventilated room drowns
each molecule of
air.
And I wonder which inevitability
chased my belief in you 
away.
But whatever took me down the
other road--
it becomes simply another 
irrelevant
better left unknown.

And just when I thought I had made
myself old over wishing for 
something to whisper like a
kind stranger into 
my ear,
I understand, and I do not
blame you
I find myself catching the edge of
every movement of atmosphere even
the leaves have forgotten,
listening
waiting...

The Impossible Dream

tell the boy with the red straws 

I am not coming back

take care of the dogs

the cats and the
pirate kids

this dark edifice 

locked doors and

stone hallways

courtyards and windows and 

signs with directions
the network is broken
so is our ending

morning was lost

the dolls with knives took it

now all I want is the
afternoon

please

The Black Hole

Just around the corner

you can be singing

in awe of the clouds forming

or the ants running

And then you will see nothing else 

You will wonder why you 

never saw it coming

Blowing the Whistle

This is not the person I 

wanted to be

this is not where I 

wanted to live

these are not the memories I 

wanted to decorate my

hallway with

Deluge

I see a man
on the top of a hill 
underneath a tree
I turn to face him
we stand there for a while
the grass is green from the rain
he does not know my name
I open my mouth and nothing gags
he listens
I turn to run I run run run
down the slope my arms stretched wide
I dive between the tall grass
the grass is tall from the rain
he calls for the daydreamer but 
I am gone
I am back in my bed
hating myself for the telling
it is too late
he does not know my name but 
he knows
there is no turning back