we wait (pt. two)

frozen days pass
boxcars laden

and nights are 
cold(er) anyway.
where is retribution? and
where is 
singularity (in this mess)?

with whatever for, we
have lost
it all.

all silver. 

all lost. 

silver all lost. 

or is it? 

think - not. 

I Need to Get Away (California-style)

I’m starving for a picnic
on the shore of a California beach;

a chance to relive those twelve-hour vacations
that were more than a day off work,
a day off school,
a day to ditch
the daily grind.

they were
this-is-the-life moments
that got me through the rest of the year.

my dad’s tennis shoes filling with sand,
bath towels posing as beach towels,
novels that would never be read,
scattered around,
looking relaxing just lying there.
one of us setting off to find a shell
that isn’t broken;
that is smooth and perfect.

I want to feel those memories

in the calm-me-down
of my stomach,

while I let the sun make a color wheel
on the inside of my eyes.


make me an uncomplicated sandwich

and spread it with peace
or peanut butter;
whichever is on hand.

like a mermaid returning to sea-weed bed sheets
after a trial run with Egyptian cotton;
I am home again--

feeding off the waves

that fuel something inside me
that goes dry
when I’ve been away for too long

tell me with your eyes,

tell me,
“that sunburn looks great on you.”

tell me that sand is nature’s pedicure
and that when I take off my shoes,
I have become a world traveler;

standing on stones
that have touched a thousand shores.

(Note: This poem is still a rough draft. Any suggestions for how to make it better would be appreciated.)

sparks (part I)

sparks (* and life begins—)
flames        , but then

this is all. life =
mean of * + loss + * + loss

(*I am, *I am, *I am…)
what I was — could be.

I could be, I am

I was waiting for—

   (     )      .