Sunday, August 30, 2015


the thing about cities is that they never sleep
the lights are on in someone's apartment
there's always a car on the road
the streetlights glimmer solemnly in the dusk
no stars light the path of the traveler, not here.
here you'll find airplanes roaring
you can't find the north star
but you can follow the blinking to the nearest airstrip
fog has a metallic taste in these parts
rain patters on dirty concrete
it smells like wet charcoal and footsteps
birds don't chirp, but seagulls scream in the early hours
when life is still moving, just slower
when the sun comes out, the alleyways become darker

the thing about cities is that they are never silent
someone in an alley is muttering
a girl's shoes tick down the sidewalk
somewhere a woman practices her opera and
lovers cry out in joy

the thing about cities is that they are full of potential
maybe one day you'll find love here
on the gum dotted sidewalks beside the rushing streets
on a park bench in springtime
or perhaps
in a dinky pho restaurant
in the middle of somewhere
you never know

(c) 2015

Tuesday, August 11, 2015

Strange Things

it's a strange little thing
sometimes there's not much to say
but the tiniest word
that can change the world

it's odd how a little time can bring
the strongest to their knees
in search of a word
to reshape the the way we see
the way we breathe, who we are

stumble drunk down garden paths
spider bites and the love we had
crying lightning in the dim dark pine trees
it's a strange little monster
breathing down our necks

kiss the beast in the moonlight
fields of feelings and swaying grass
tiny flowers under footsteps
it's a strange little thing

(c) 2015