Sunday, April 11, 2010


During that time when an Old Boy becomes a Young Man, he found himself sitting in a church on a Saturday, attending the wedding of a family friend. His Father sat next to him, right leg crossed casually over his left. He leaned in toward his Son and whispered, “You know, it won’t be too many more years until you’re standing up there doing the very same thing. What do you think about that?” The Boy/Man looked down at his father’s shiny brown right shoe resting relaxed on the perfectly pleated knee and responded, “Are those my socks?”

Thursday, February 4, 2010


And from the ashes of his world of broken dreams,
A phoenix of Hope arises
Sets his possibilities to light
Gives him courage once more
To dare the dark tunnels of his solipsistic madness.

Monday, January 25, 2010

Front Street View

There was one time, in this city of millions where I almost didn’t feel alone. I stepped onto the balcony for a breath of fresh smog and a tumbler of whiskey. It was 3 a.m. and you were at your window, furiously washing dishes. I thought for a moment something would happen- your lover would come up quietly and kiss you on the neck or perhaps something more tragic… a break-in, a would-be attacker would be foiled be my chance sighting and quick dialing to the police. But these things did not occur. Nothing did. You went right on scrubbing angrily at the leftovers accumulated on your pots and pans. I poured myself another whiskey and watched you take out your frustrations with soap and sponge. I’m sorry for leering in on your semi-private life, but I wanted so desperately for you to look up across the street and see me smiling at you. I would have given you a friendly wave and a knowing grin. I too, sometimes do dishes at 3 a.m., alone. Although in retrospect I do not think I could match your passion or tenacity for cleanliness. I so desperately wished for you to see me, acknowledge our common loneliness. But you didn’t, you went right on scrubbing and I went right on drinking until I became too cold, drunk, and disillusioned with the fact that life is never like the fiction we are brought up to believe in, and I eventually turned in, to pour out my pathetic musings about our separate lives onto this paper. Acutely aware that the latching sound of the sliding glass door signaled the end of our endless possibilities.

Ode to Southtown

I love you.
No seriously, I do.
And I don’t mean that in the typical, “let’s drink twenty beers, wrap our shoulders around each other and laugh about how great we are” Sense of the term…
I love you. Because of you I am
For better or worse,
Who I am. Who I have become.
You are the sea-formed rocks that laid the foundation
For the building that was to become me,
And I know I haven’t been true,
I was young, scared
Wanted to try different things
But I came back, again
And again.
And again.
Even though you have no depth to speak of,
Your sandy roots only run so deep
My misplaced love for you will stand the test of your oceanic tide
That beats relentlessly against the crags of our relationship.
Sadly though,
Given some very little time,
You will forget me easily as if you never knew me to be of any consequence,
Live out your repeating days not ever knowing
How you made this boy a Man.

Saturday, January 2, 2010


Dad said it wasn't genetically possible
So I grew it out, to prove him wrong.
Now I can't get rid of it
Even if I wanted to.
After shaving, I still see it hiding
Lurking under my skin and
I almost yearn for it to blossom
Right then and there.
The ladies don't always care for it but
I've grown more attached to my beard
Than it is to my face.

Tuesday, December 8, 2009


I enjoy starting Poems
With, "...And"
As if the reader was privy
To the sacrosanct thoughts
And nebulous emotions
That unspeakingly begin
Each one of my attempts
At reconciliation between
My world
And others I perceive to be
Far Greater.


On Purpose,
While separating our library,
I gave you books back
You had once given me
As Gifts.
And every time you open
Their sorrow-filled pages
I want your own inscribed handwriting
To remind you of
What you gave up on.


I hope your next lover finds them,
,gets jealous,
And wonders just how
You could have surrendered
What we had.

I know I do.

Interstate Five

From the tip of her feet
To the utmost of
Her glorious head
And back
I travel.
Sometimes slowly, taking
My gentle time
Other times I race



Back and

Forth (and back)

As if I can't decide
Where we fit best, together.
And always,

Through it all
The music plays in the background.
It is the soundtrack
To our decades-long love affair,
The Golden Lady,
and Me.

Friday, September 11, 2009


...was a Bad Day.

is still a Bad Day.

and will be
for the rest of the Night.

Thursday, August 20, 2009

Karma Police

If breaking my window
My glasses
and almost my nose,
was karmic retribution for stealing that kiss from you...

I'll steal a thousand more.

And a thousand more after that. was fucking worth it.