“Loneliness does not come from being alone, but from being unable to communicate the things that seem important.”
- Carl Jung

so when i was born, the grandparents, friends, family, and associates gathered shoulder to shoulder in the delivery room. i was the first grand baby born to to a first born father, and an only child mother. both had stories that root much deeper than these descriptions, however… i was a big deal. my sex was unknown until i appeared on the scene. and so anticipation could be sliced with a cake knife as my mother's pains became more…

i used to say my prayers every night before bed. my sister and i shared a room, and we knelt at our beds, and prayed for every person we knew. made the sign of the holy cross, and slid under the covers. i confessed all of my sins to a priest who visited the catholic grade school i attended 4 times a year. "i lied, i cheated, i pushed, i disobeyed". he made the sign of the cross on my forehead, and sent me off to pray 40 hail mary's.

yet i lied, cheated, hit, pushed, and disobeyed as soon…

i just told a friend about the time i climbed the 300 foot bridge in the tiny county where we grew up. he is familiar with the story. just not my perspective. it happened on a cold and stormy night back in november of 1993. i was 19, and wild at heart. i was hanging out drinking southern comfort in my 2 bedroom apartment with the local community college soccer team.

i coached the team, because i was not allowed to play, and frankly i was not very good, but neither were they. my girl friend stopped by, and the…

i have been breathlessly waiting for the 29th of january to arrive. my blood speaks to me as i dream, and as i move. screaming a secret that doctors and nurses and dermatologists and vampires have missed for well over a decade. there is gold in them hills. all the lines and curves, stiffen to the constant revolt. and i twist, and turn, and gasp for air. as i scratch and scrape and pick at layers to expose the truth.

the disorder i have bared over the years, forbidden admittance to all the self help groups, and no scripts in…

i imagine life incredibly different then how it unfolds, even as it is unfolding. i allow myself chronic daydreams, fascinations and indulgences which distract me from the boring, routine, decaffeinated version presented to me from all directions. this is my super power, and this is my unique talent ive cultivated since youth.

i remember my parents arguing from the kitchen, their voices raised, cursing and swearing and disagreeing about things i could not fully understand. i remember the tension building, and how all of my senses seemed heightened. and then i can not remember how those memories end. because i…

a pile is all that remains.
a pile of ashes, dust, and disturbed dirt on the ground
a heap of debris
tattered clothes
torn and tossed.
if jesus was attempting to demonstrate a miraculous transformation
if he was emphasizing what his fans were capable of
if he was advertising something remarkably different than what he hung for three days on the cross
if he was the poster child for heavens billboard

than why did he emerge from the tomb, exactly as he entered?
why was he wearing man made robes
and bearing the wounds man made on his body
and…

wrapped in slumber, sacred fall
not strength to take this graceless call
echoes strewn like cut out dolls
retracing steps to stillness

havent the slightest clue how i fell so far away from you
from here i pan each new horizon, a universe away from last i spied
scissors scratch the surface of my skin to bleed a fresh new map
useless calculations and coordinates specifically lost

there never was a formula
this breakdown tenderly embraced
this dawning a new day wasted
these ashes blown apart

i reached for you in dreams last night
and as you turned away
my…

sitting on the edge of the bed, i see my legs, i tell them to move, to work, to behave. and they stubbornly refuse. a yawn slips out, and i curl back into the spot in the bed that he left behind. cover my face with sheets stained with stalled attempts at artistic expression. receipts litter the floor. and four towels hang molding over the bedroom door.

i should wash towels today! i fall back to sleep. even the noises the boys make from the living room are not destructive enough yet, to motivate me. anger fills my head. but…

ribbons long and bright red
round the funnel's edge
weaved through dusty rings
spinning unbound

bits of grass and flowers pass
slows them into view, slows them as they pass by you
buttons, bits of thread
clouds drawn out, puffs of string

gray and brown muddied down
ferocious rumble radiates
sows some notes
frame floats

lays head back
plays with her hair, it twirls.
listens for the sound
waits to be bound

and he talks
wont stop
passing her by
calling her
stop

hears every word
eyes dart side to side
contact shakes shallow frame
mascara masks desire

pressed hard…

she picks away at epidermal layers to reveal
soft skin removed, long legs pitted with lovingly aged scars.
her eyes become deeply exposed pools of despair,
if you stare too long, you risk imprisonment there.

her locks divide the abyss, from tourists escaping the norm
golden olive sands hug her tidal breaks.
shade trees reach their roots down deep
as erosive waves reveal their blistered grip.

her torso twists and turns in pale moon's light
and reaches out for no one at all.
she teases every sneak of eager eye,
mocks your attention for what her beautiful mind vies.

and…