The time was here

My pillar for years

Swaths of red in the monochrome.

Fought against

In every sense

Safe and sound in a burning home


Pillars stood

Longer than they should

No ceiling above to limit my flight

But the proud gold

Was weak coal

And the world was ashen on all sides


Except not exactly

Was the world around me

Something miserable meant to die

I simply grew

And saw anew

That I was simply trying to hide


That blazing house

Is just smoldering now

A colourful light stubbornly guides

To show me at last

What was unknown in the past:

A world to walk side-by-side.


A lifetime has died

Though I survive

And move on to be someone better

Up the hill I go

New life in an old memo

Planting a new tree and growing together.

In Pursuit

Bring it to life with a Crank and let it roar. These wheels won’t carry us away without it. Escape artists, cowards, or whatever you may call us, we’re navigators of our own lives reading the signs in stars and hearts. Long reaches of asphalt connecting us to the next; yellow lines to follow and exits not to miss. No law bounds or forbids us from packing up and seeking a hunch or prod that might suggest that there’s no longer anything here.

     When we get there remember that we were asking questions not committing in blood, and so if it doesn’t seem right Crank the engine to life and keep on. You are responsible for the hands and feet you look down and see, and your job is to only rest them wherever they’ll be most happy.






Under the Tide

Everything I do is he same. Polishing, rebuilding, re-editing, and trying to bring out a shine that seldom goes beyond an unnoticeable glimmer.

When I was younger I was angry and isolated, and now on the other side of ten years I see the same toxins still slithering through the crowded square of my life. It’s like ink scratched on my skin with the nails of a madman, that doesn’t need to be retouched as I age and try to forget about what I’ve lived and what I haven’t. New eyes are drawn to it without fail no matter how hard I try and paint over it with my favourite shade of blue.

So, the week ends with another push in the name of what I don’t want, don’t love, and don’t believe in. All in the name of a day that may never come.





You stole the planets from my solar system and left me to float in space alone.

Far away from the distant comfort of the place that I called home.

Cold and stills the air that’s void of the vibrations of life

I endured an entire day for this, this magic hour of night.


Like rockets in the dark are the windows of light I can see in

To a family from so far away, unfamiliar, and alien.

I keep my sights on the road above, below, and on both sides

Galaxies are calling and I can’t ignore their cries.


The lights are simply gas, light, and heat from far away

Similar to the ruckus lifting my head and stretching out my brain.

The balloon is much closer to the ground than it was before

But it’s not really a positive and the danger keeps being ignored.


Eventually it all came down and ended my time in space

Here on the surface I was alone, and for the first time saw my place.

I was chasing a dream, an oracle, or a savior who I made sense to

Anything or anyone to distract me from the solitude.


They bound down the hill at such a speed that you couldn’t resist holding your breath in anticipation. Would they fall? Would they land on their faces? Would they cover the rest of their charge by rolling?

Their short legs and arms pounded fast to keep up with their spirits of mayhem and reckless delight. They’re parents watched with a nostalgic joy and paternal concern at the furor and disrupt , wild like a lighting storm. They are people so small that there’s difficulty in even calling them people. People live in this large world and go missing in the volumes of life without reason, only to be found when they write to you with pictures that do not betray the secrecy of what came in the time before or that which would follow. Only controlled moments and chosen words. These loud and alive children are not wanderers  yearning for waters unknown; they are little monkeys screeching and dancing under a moon that is still new and exciting.

Daughter to Father and Son to Mother, the little bunnies of energy football-hugged their parents for a second and then took off again, and they smiled as the runners took off. They wouldn’t let the sound of a ticking clock drown out the sounds that swelled their hearts and imprinted cherished sights in to their memory.





Until the Stars

“Another for good measure”.

The words coupled with a single raised finger alerted the barkeep and set him to work.

He was familiar with the phrase “Laugh so you don’t cry”. It was familiarity which caused a storm of differing emotions and memories to rip through his quiet and familiar heart like a disaster film. He was scared and hurting, but honoring their loved one’s words was the only eulogy that made sense.  

     With the thud of an amber beer, mourning with a veil of froth and cold to match his own numbness, he let out an empty laugh and raised a toast in to the great unknown.

“I’ll be lost without you.”

With tears of grief he celebrated in to the night.