GRACEFULLY

okay hush now it is okay i
am certain of it as certain
of it as i know i love that
song and as certain of it as
i know that a long time ago
even through a similar snow
we delivered letters by pony
and wrote in rhyme and took
the time to stop and pause
in the mid-day sun in a field

and oh yes love we may kick
cans in the parking lot throw
apples with spots at neon
signs or dirty our trousers scrape
our knees climb trees hit some
baseballs and hide a bit in the
dark in the cricket sounds
just enough to still be found

but now it is time to go back
inside and flip on the lights
and be man and wife and turn
off the television and make big
decisions and begrudge and bemoan
be old and alone forget to know
that oh yes babe it is all okay
its all okay babe i know its okay

AFTER ALL

woke up this morning in a funk, half drunk. took a shower and made a pot of coffee. smoked a jazz cigarette, and a cigarette. listened to moscow: i know it's strange to think of you when reading about someone so confused, but i can barely keep my phone away. woke with much worry about dates and trips, bills and my will to do what i must do. walked out into a unexpectedly warm sunny day, a strong pleasing breeze blowing my hair and scarf playfully. then, suddenly, instantaneously, realize the truth: no need to worry. no need when i write. no need when i play music with ancient friends. no need when blown away by peers. no need when prospects, simple ones, the prophesy of hands to be held, cheeks to be kissed, parents to meet, quiet nights under dim lights speaking the same language to be shared, are thought of at work in a dim corner of the office with headphones in listening to jdutt, again, thinking of all this stuff, these things: just like with them we've parted ways, we've set those bridges all ablaze, but i still think we're the only sane ones left.

MOSCOW

time for this, time for that. time to kiss, now that the date is over. time to open doors for people coming up behind. time to get coffee, i am sleepy. time to go home and cry in the dark with a candle lit and the window open even though it is 10 degrees outside and a light snow keeps bears hibernating. time for shots, so we can get drunk. time for a cig and a jig with a jug band and bottle of wine. time to get my act together and write this paper. time to celebrate, paper is done. time for hugs and cheek kisses for my little beautiful perfect niece. time to dream and toss in blankets and wake up and sigh and go back to sleep. time for church to singalong and be forgiven of what you've done wrong. time oh time for no thought of time to not care what time to not worry what time to not give a shit what time; time to pretend we have all the time in the world.

LANDSLIDE

you are good people. i like you. i think that when we get together and talk it is very nice. i am very drunk, very stoned, very tired, very filled with life, very sentimental, very sensitive, very sleepy and waiting to dream and take off my socks and feel cotton all on my skin. it has been a good night and i enjoy all of your company. i enjoy playing music with you. helps me remember. remember that time is not real; that once we start a song it is over in a second. and that cigarettes in fifteen degree wind chills pushes me and gives me the will to be happy with the circumstances that i have been put in. because babies are fantastic creatures and we were all one of them back in the day. and working at 7-11 til early morning is not too bad after a night of growing up and being babies again. and waiting to hear about some important decision that will most definitely affect your life is not so bad after a night of laughs and smiles and visions of people you will toast at a wedding some day. and the waiting for all this to happen: for all the joys and pains of future times; for all the late nights with your child in a room with soft wave sounds and ducks on the wallpaper; for all the fantastic court cases we will argue, and all the awkward teenagers we will teach and change, all the peoples bodies we will delve into and fix and cure; for all the moments that we will inhale a crystal clear winter breath and feel at peace; for all those moments we wait and wait but when it comes it will be very happening, very happy, very much like the moment i am in right now, when i postpone warm blankets and comfy beds and breezes from a dust covered fan and the play of sleep, when i like to write instead of dream. you are good people. i miss you and wish you well and will talk to you, and see you, soon, under the black light, under another harvest moon.

GET THERE FAST, THEN WE"LL TAKE THINGS SLOW

life showed me a lot today, and reminded me of myself; a chill morning with rays of the sun melting frost in windshields, the joy of the thought of our first favorite songs, the early ones, from when we were 8. busy bodies catching moments of relief, and smiles and blank stares at the sky. fantastic moments wherein this happens: answers come very very quickly but then pass and fade away almost instantaneously in the midst of thousands of other questions, and nothing makes much sense, and you can, for a second, picture and imagine the universe as a bunch of particles which have numbers in the much-larger-than-any-number-i-have-ever-heard-of, almost unfathomable, but somewhat understandable, and you chuckle and enjoy that feeling because you have shared it with someone over lunch. and the pinkness of the sky behind dying trees. an old man in a suit and a top hat walking across the street. a child dropping her ice cream sandwich and crying. birds flying by, squirrels racing in branches up high, cigarette smoke making visible the light's knifing of the spectrum, scarves and long strands of brunette blowing in the wind. oh today, my friends, i saw a lot of things, saw a lot of wonderful beings, saw a lot of life, and it was very nice.

REPETITION IS AN EASY WAY OUT

so much holding of hands, even in the cold. and fall leaves fading slowly as winter creeps in and people pass by them briskly. so much anticipation for lists and checklists of gifts and resolutions. and much laughter. that is for sure. much warmth and cozy blanket mornings and late night listens to favorite songs remembering the wishes for snow days. so much love, and hating of loving. hating that loved ones are no longer here, cannot share in the joy of holding someone who has a part of you in them, in their dna, in their genes. but loving nontheless. and so much thought; thinking and hoping and worrying and exploring, traveling and conducting, playing and fighting, sexing and working, partying and finalizing, trivializing and flying, scrabbling and gwaving, listening, feeling, feeling, feeling, feeling.

YOUR HANDS BELONG IN FLORIDA

it's painful to think that i am alone, again.

in the airport i miss my niece, obviously.

i miss my mom and dad, my sister patty and glenn.

i miss kimchi smell in the mornings,

sweaty feet at night from the florida humidity,

i miss stories told at the dinner table that i had never known:

your grandfather was a wrestler and went semi-pro;

i once ate raw rice for two weeks straight when i crossed over what is now the demilitarized zone;

my best friend died in philadelphia the day you were born;

now all we talk about is how my grandparents are gone

and that i should quit smoking

instead of the fact that i really will miss the ocean and

the clouds which wisp along across the horizon,

and the sun particular to the south.

i miss listening to songs that i never listened to anywhere else.

i miss the awkward hugs.

i miss warm hands sweaty hands with which i typed early in the morning with so much to write

right now,

i miss having the feeling of missing something,

somewhere,

someone.