Summer Rains

poetry

Summer rains are so easy to forgive

Not a hindrance, but worn as an accessory for the evening.

A soothing pitter-patter on the windshield

A slightly inconvenient sprinkling that only adds more character to the night.

Or a welcome gift to our lawns and gardens:

The hallelujah afternoon downpour:

All watered and cooled–

the air fresh with verdure and petrichor;

A passing spell,

The whisper of Nature’s mercy,

A moment of weakness in the heavens,

A minor fracture in the sky,

A brief, cathartic sob 

We receive with tempered joy–

Summer rains are so easily forgiven. 

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The Harcourt Arms

poetry

I once had a sacred friend—
we worshiped at the altar of whatever was on tap.

Next to a stony fireside;
we sat in pews of cherry wood barstools.

To read dead poet sermons—
scripture that told us how

We felt

And how we should feel

About each other.

The Split-second Poem

Uncategorized

Split-second decisions are full of lard and MSG and high-fructose corn syrup:
It’s calling you,
It’s saying yes,
It’s saying no,
It’s leaving.
I carry their weight for years and years
But no exercise regimen seems to exorcise the guilt compacted in me,
tumor-like, hanging from my bones
One idea disguised as inspiration or revelation or a stroke of genius
will be the last to leave me, stored in my gut,
sagging,
my lifelong hangover,
my tattooed asymptote.

Your Haunting Quietude

Uncategorized

It’s been published by MSU Denver’s Metrosphere, and I think many of my friends have seen it already… but I thought I’d put it up here on the b-log. My 16 line (kinda Shakespearean but, yeah 16 line) sonnet, Your Haunting Quietude:

Your Haunting Quietude

Suspended in your haunting quietude,
I make haste to fill silence with thought.
Inebriated by some thirst to brood,
So quickly I fragment that sacred naught.

The space where nothing passes between lips,
Where no articulation could resound…
A moment shrouded in the silv’ry mist
of clear perception, hov’ring over ground.

The present makes an elegant collapse
of motions retrograde and onward push.
It falls into itself, a whispered gasp
Just like a starry death, implosion’s rush.

Yet here do I fall victim to the stream
of mental chatter, the insufferably inane…
as certain as soliloquy may seem,
I pause that rogue procession and refrain…

Then you smile politely, start to speak
Completely unaware of what you break.