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Smaller voids, never skip-able 

As flat smooth rocks 

Across casually running creeks 

Since water never checks the calendar, 

But sets clocks by its measure 

And finds its way to a 100 year ago place 

To a place been before 

To a place never forgot

That One Time I Got the Flue

At the World's Edge
Where weather is born
She reached through the dense fabric
Left a fingernail in my spine

A relentless cold sweat
As the nail melts slowly
She scries the Arctic tundra
A Russian folk song on her lips

You couldn't argue the girl.
(You wouldn't swallow hot coals either)

But you grabbed,
Plunged, mouth first

An errant stunt-moron
A one person tunnel boring machine

Cutting holes of the 6 ft deep vintage

Singe the flesh from your lips,
Burn through your esophagus

They'll cheer you in the ICU
She'll celebrate your recovery

Maybe concede a draw
(With caveats and conditions)

Soulmates

An agreed inclination
Towards the guiltiest of the guilty pleasures
Like the flip side of each others favorite coin
Dipped in the same essence
Half-formed in separate wombs
With a shared secret handshake

An Old Poem


My grip is tighter
My vice, more painful
I squeeze her in joy
Hold close to my heart

An earful of pain
Persist against her wishes
If I squeeze harder
She'll know I'm for real!

I can't hear protests
Her pleas or anger
I feel her heart beating
This is love, I must know

When she bursts in joy
The finalization upon me
Leaves nothing, confusion.
So empty, alone.

Slightly Unique

Never rushing to the stage to turn themselves inside out
Most keep their secrets
Hoarding their uniqueness
Priding themselves on things that separate

Ask the kid why he smokes
He'll spin yarns about his Father, the coolest cat he ever knew
He leans on the bar and orders a drink
Like how he saw some guy do it in a movie

Ask the kid his favorite color
He'll tell you of a girl, love unrequited
She'd never remember his name
Or spot him in a crowd

But she remembers, just like she remembers her Aunt
Would wear her hair a certain way
When she misses her most, she combs her hair the same
A faded memory her only model

Because the pictures, unbearable to look at
Are tucked away in a box along with the love letters
The old words always fresh
To eyes that never stop changing

People rush to the stage to find that they're other people
There are always other people on the stage
All clamoring with one voice
Saying the same thing to each other

Saying the things people have always said to each other
Seeking individual rewards
For the uniqueness that we all possess

Sirens

They know the type:
Eyes aglow, honey coated words flow
From lips intimate with many a neck's quiver
Promise givers and breakers
Shining like the sun,
Spotted from miles away