The Clearing

In the clearing

Blank space permeates my veins.

The voice
still at the core

             Sways with the wind,

And shines in the light.

Chaotic perfection

Cannot be documented,

                  Analyzed, or judged.

Only the sun
 understands the roots.

I put my pen down, 

Pick up a leaf, and
Trace my fingers along the
Fading veins.

I let it go

And realize:
The leaf and I
Are kindred spirits


Inspired by blank morning space.

Solitary Man

I watched the solitary man

Sitting on a hill over the city.

Like an angel of darkness,

His frail hands, aimlessly searched

For a truth.

I watched the solitary man

Play the stars like a joker,

Cheating the moonlight.
He hugged the piano keys so tightly,

Suffocating them with his passion.

Barely breathing,

The music choked

The words of his blue heart.

I watched the solitary man

Embrace the pseudo reality of the night.

Cigarette smoke chased the twisted sky.

He didn’t want to surrender to this illusion. 

But, it was too late.

The hurricane had already swallowed the truth…..

Half-Smoked Cigarette

The hipster said  
“I’d like to light you again sometime
Like a pack of Marlborough cigarettes.”
Then he threw his cigarette to the ground,
And left her the same way he found her--
Lost to the night.

Her curls fell to her face
Covering her eyes:
Blue as the sky,
Blue as the void inside...

How many more days of blue
She wondered?
How many days of half -smoked cigarettes,
Almost finished,
But not quite?

He’d be packing his bags the next morning.
He’d be 1000 miles away.
He’d be sitting on the roadside.
He’d be playing a song he wrote at the bus stop
with only blue sky’s ahead.

She’d be at a coffee shop,
Alone
Staring blankly at a newlywed couple:
A hot mess of dimpled smiles and laughter.

She’d start laughing,
No, she’d start crying.
Warm tears would creep down her cheeks.
The memories would play again and again,
Like a broken record player.
She’d want the quiet again,
So she’d grab her cigarette,
Smoke it half way,
And realize, sometimes bad habits
Feel fucking good enough.