A dedication

I am always writing about warriors
Underdogs rising up to greet hard times
Just like I am always writing about love
I wrote this clumsy poem for you
Because you and I are the kind of warriors
Who never got our stories told
In the storybooks they write for little boys
To teach them that the world
Just owes them everything
You and I know something about love
Clawing its way back up from shallow graves
Meant to be a soul’s final resting place

We were born from the darkness
That the people who raised
Us and named us called love
We were brought up battered
But never as broken as you believed once

Out here where the horizon stretches into infinity
The road ahead fills the sky with possibility
Breathing in and out steadily
As mileposts pass by in the night
Push the pedal to the floor
To drive you fast enough and far enough
To outrun the ghosts that come for you when the sun drops low

Breathe in breathe out
Push your panic through gritted teeth
Long enough to pull off the highway
In the middle of the desert to see
The majesty of a sky full of stars
Towering in its enormity above us
The moon rises ancient and yellow
I want you to fold up this moment
Hold it to replay on
Days when life knocks you down

Polish my boots oxblood red
In a dingy New Mexico hotel room
After you finally surrender to rest
With Hope standing guard
Dream of grinding the face
Of every single person who ever hurt you
Into the 115 degree asphalt outside

Hate comes easy
Violence follows just as unrepentantly
Witnessing a pain as pure as this
I want to hunt down each
And every last maggot
That feasted the flesh from the bones
Of your youth and snap their
Fingers from their hands like brittle twigs

Breathe in.  Breathe out.
The warm waves of the Atlantic
Rush ceaselessly over the sand
Wade in the water
Give thanks to the tiny victories
Every battle, hard fought and won
Every hell pushed through
That led you to this shore

I maybe never felt as proud
As I felt watching you
Standing tall in the sun
Stretching out into your soul
Strong as bones
Brave against the memory
Of every nightmare never enough
To break you into pieces
Breathing slow
While the waves crash
Let the bad dreams pass
As they always do.

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A dedication

Taking Leave At The Buncombe County Line

All the roads to the land of sky are steep:
Sheer as Beaucatcher Mountain Road,
All the way to Helen’s Bridge in spring
Black mold in blooms in an exile’s lungs
Thunderheads rumble over the hills
Raise a halo to the sky and it returns a crown of rust
Sending bicycle-bones crashing to a standstill

Weeds line the vacant lot
Where they knocked the projects down
So many years ago
Their roots burst through crumbling concrete
Beautiful in their pavement breaking bloom
And the cicadas sing beneath electric starlight
Breaking wide open the stillness of summer nights
In the midst of the homes we knew

Fate is cold and indifferent like that
Rising up to make wreckage of carefully laid plans

When it comes
You cannot hesitate
Or look back

(except you always, always do)

Because:
It hurts to outgrow
Just like it will break your heart to leave home
And break you apart to build anew
To become.

IMG_5509

Taking Leave At The Buncombe County Line

Proximities.

This is a blessing
For the bliss of
Breaking down
Breaking out
Letting go
Of love
(or closest proximities of)

Fond affections
Now disfigured
And distorted
Embers burn
Down to ashes scattered
Into the howling wind

What is a little bit of
Betrayal between friends anyway?
A glance over the shoulder, lamenting
How the worst enemies
Are always the ones
We know the most intimately

I propose a toast tonight
With a heart closed
And a raised fist clenched
Drink to your health
And the wealth
Of lessons learned
In blood sex
Promises half spoken
Unremembered and never meant

Viva love
(or closest proximities of)
And long live its death

Proximities.

Dream of apocalypse sex with apocalypse ex

A dream of you this morning
Three years on
Pressed against the wall
All filthy and tender
Open

We were never
Going to be anything like
The love of one another’s lives
Or grow old together
And that’s just fine

Because we both have known
That kind of love
Shakes you to your core
Pulls you out of your skin
To dance in your bones
The kind of love that
Will not let you settle for anything
Gets you fucking moving
And this, this just is.

An exercise in anything goes
An exercise in escaping emptiness
From one moment to the next
Running circular furrows in
All the same well tread paths
Until boots burn holes in our maps

In the afterglow
Beneath the flickering lights
Whisper your secret fears
Of the fire next time
Written into your genetic code
Whatever horror this world holds
You feel it coming for us
In your root of your soul

So here we are
All fucked up
Yet unbroken
Against the wall
In love and war
All at once now
For war
But never in love.

Dream of apocalypse sex with apocalypse ex

I fell in love and it scrambled my brain.

So I haven’t been writing as much. Still grinding away at this novel, but aside from that I mostly try and sit calmly with the present. For whatever reason, writing about the present has always proven difficult for me. It’s like I have a hard time articulating the significance of an event until after it’s time as has passed and I’ve had time to reflect. Maybe that’s why my first book is about a life lived two decades ago. I can tell you with absolute clarity what it was all for, and what it all meant.

The present… The Present feels jittery and electric, like I want to do a million things at once. Maybe that’s the strong cup of green tea and chronic lack of sleep talking though. Or maybe too much time researching bullshit on the internet is making me foggy before my years. I don’t know. I can’t think clearly right now. Maybe I should just be outside with my dog (The real love of my life.)

What I’m trying to articulate here, is what a joy it is to fall in love. I haven’t been in love in some years. Opening my heart to another has never been something I’ve done lightly, and rarely something I’ve given myself to fully. If we’re being real, I’ll one part blame on being socialized in a culture of toxic masculinity, one part mental illness and trauma, and the last part just kind of feeling like a whole lot of the people I encounter aren’t worth my vulnerability and authenticity anyway. People can be disingenuous and dishonorable shitbags. I see it on most of them, and keep my distance. People are also flawed and wounded and wonderful and most of us are doing the best we can. It’s the ones that use their hardships as an excuse to never grow or change that I can’t abide to share my time with.

Or people can’t handle my authenticity or vulnerability. That’s possible too. I think I encounter that one a lot. I don’t know. It’s difficult to be objective about yourself sometimes. I am more than aware of myself as a “difficult person”. I am painfully aware that I’m unlucky enough to experience the terrifying and joyous journey of life through a certain lens, and the world I see through that lens doesn’t always match with the world the people I love are seeing.

That is to say, trauma and mental illness done fucked up my perception of reality. I won’t make any apologies for how I experience the world, not like I wanna experience it in this way either. I’m real sorry for the vital connections it’s caused me to break over the years, most of them anyway.

Anyway… Love poem in progress. I think we’ll title it Janky Love Poem #1 because I’m feeling real sweet and vulnerable and clumsy right now. I don’t know if I’ve ever written something about a relationship while I was still in it.

Falling in
Falling away
From an idea of love cheapened
With plastic sentiment
Filled with impossible promises
Of a saccharine soaked forever
And sepia toned happily ever after
Accepting each imperfect
And impermanent moment

Making monuments from ruins
An idea of love
Falling like walls
Cracked open
Like precious stones
Once hidden in rubble

Falling in love like
Tearing lonely cynicism to shreds
For gentle whispers of
How the world is still worth fighting for
Four simple words to sink in
“Nihilism is so stupid”
It’s true.

That’s all. I’m going outside. Maybe I’ll work on this more later. Maybe I’ll leave it as it is, a clumsily sweet monument to the first tenuous steps of falling in love. Only time will tell. For now, I will enjoy this moment.

Thank you for reading. ❤

I fell in love and it scrambled my brain.

Punks is sharks.

Adrift and sinking, out where the horizon unfolds
Into rows of waves crashing down
Our lifeboats are full of holes
And someone threw away the oars
Our boats are taking on water now
As the lives and loves We forged sink below…

I just want a metaphor
For how we’re maybe out of our depth here
Where the water is deep and dark
Maybe we’re out of our depth here
And way out here there’s sharks.

Maps marked with blurred lines
and the last of a sky so blue
Just as summer gave way to fall
“You have to breathe. You have to breathe.”
Swallowing mouthfuls of air where the traffic snarls
Marveling at just how fucking ugly
Of a picture this world will paint you
Right as it runs you through

We’re out of our depth here
With blurred lines inked indelibly into skin
Too tender, too thin
Blurring the line again
Always between the intimate
And the violent
We’re out of our depth here
Because nothing prepared us for trespasses like this
Or taught us how to love without fear

The hour is now late
Ashore, annihilation comes home to call
With a knock knock knock at the door
Wolves hunger at the windows
Sharks circle the shallows
Murderers who murder each other
Set loose to stalk the halls

Punks is sharks.

I was a teenage vampire.

Friday night flickers
Across the screen
Cancer rain runs in gutters
Flooding cynical city eyes
With the kind of tired resignation
That years spent in rain
Could never wash away.

Here we go, again.
Sleepless and irregular heartbeat rhythm
Pounding down the path of ash

Nights like this
Delicious in their solitary familiarity
In a crowd, but alone
Next to anyone
But long gone

Are why I
Always felt
Like a dead shell walking
Unburied and breathing

Flawed and beautiful as I am
Alienated, alienating, alien.
Jagged teeth, sneering grin
Sharp fangs, lifelike skin
With a hunger for fresh blood
To fill fathomless flesh.

I was a teenage vampire.