Monday, March 28, 2011

...I am Lazarus\\.

(day ???)

I’m taking a momentary break to pen this.
A break from what?
Well, I was washing the dishes…
For about thirty seconds.
Instead, I’ve music in my ears,
And I’m dancing about in
Swim trunks
Kicks that date back
To high school.
You are the light of my life.
I’m going to move somewhere
The sun never ends.
I’ve been dead for so long
That I never want to feel ill again.

Things That Make Me Happy, Number Two: The Sun

Viens avec moi. 

Friday, March 18, 2011

/the frenchhouse/

(day fifty-four)

Burt’s Bees bolsters bare
lips against the
cold winter winds
whilst we
cluster about counters
clutching coffee
to chase all of
our lonely
The evenings pass.
We fade.

There is little left of what was; and much promise of that to come.

-Viens avec moi?

Sunday, March 13, 2011


Like old lovers we slip back into our paces
Nestled against each other with a fierce longing
And my fingers find all the right places as though
They were never intended for anything else.

writing again,

(day forty-nine)

Days like today remind me of my childhood.

The wind tosses scattered clouds across the sky, breaking up the chatter of mid-day songbirds and lonely fingers of breeze grasp at the dangling leather strap of the dinner bell. Sounds echo across the empty in the early spring, and by mid-summer will be lost among the corn fields. Meals are a communal event, and though you may not know your table neighbor, you know them to be a friend.

The internet is a fad, electronic mail is a silly idea, and there is a rumor that one of the teachers has a phone that doesn’t need to be plugged in to the wall.

Technology hits urban centers first, and it doesn’t get much more rural than Melba, Idaho. I was born on the cusp of a new era, and I was fortunate to grow up in the old world. Fortunate, because unlike many my age, I tasted a time before digital technology; fortunate for no other reason than I know what came before.

It was so much simpler then. Whether that is the absence of technology or the precursor to growing up, I do not know.

Days like today make me nostalgic.

Nostalgia is the most confounded emotion, but… what is life without it?

Viens avec moi?

Monday, March 7, 2011

in the company of a one Lady Grey,

Lollipops turn into cigarettes, soda becomes vodka, bikes become cars and underwear turns into g-strings. Remember when getting high meant swinging on the playground? When protection meant wearing a helmet? When the worst things you could get from boys were cooties? Race issues were about who ran the fastest, war was only a card game, the only drug you knew was cough medicine, the only things that hurt you were skinned knees, and goodbyes only meant until tomorrow... and we all couldn't wait to grow up." Source unknown

(day forty-three)

Has it honestly been so long?
Nearly two weeks since I’ve written a word.

How easy it is to let it all go.
To slip into a jaded role.

But we have to choose to be broken.
It’s an active choice, not a happenstance.

Choices don’t stop at words.
Because words can be thrown hurriedly.

They are action, and inaction.
They are movement and voice.

Realizing that,
Let’s make a choice.