Poems
The place where songs start
Movement
Darling, he’s lost too
Not daring to be found
Muddled, sitting in a puddle
Of water and blue oil.
Oxidation, on every inhalation
Drifts inside.
Orange clouds the lungs, and
Wheezing sounds as irate eyes
Invest in every sight, arrest
On a spray-painted dragon.
Interested, he touches its dark green scales
old nails scraping underfoot.
A soft smell of dust and mold
Content warning – destruction.
The horizon comprising
Of wrecking balls surmising
Their way to rubble fields
Healed land, building sealed
Packed up, with him inside it.
From broad rooftop vista
To dark basement, he lists a series
Of quick quiet dreams
That reap sleep at night.
Resting, deep desires lighting fires
All a small leap away.
And broken class crunches
Down corrugated stairs that correlate
A high above to below, and show
Signs of decomposing,
Jagged holes that grow
Supposing the building stands still.
So alone he just wanders
Left behind to squander days,
Pondering the places where
He might find a sign
Or a person who’s kind
Lost, when memory became
An elegy for peace of mind.
Crumple
Running stopped working, and driving isn’t fast enough. Avoiding is temporary, turns too easily into pretending. To get out, go through. Pierce the viscous wall of frustration. Imagine blowing it apart. But in real life, it takes punching. Something real, stiff.
Like cheap whisky. Long enough to be strong, short enough they don’t see it coming. Thrown heady like being high on skunky weed or fear. Bloody knuckles after some tight right hooks slam home, hardly making a dent. I’m caught.
Like a dream where you can’t walk, run or fly anymore. No movement left, just holding fast. Even when no one else will. Even when the way they ignore you makes your heart race and arms tingle and quads flex and mind spasm. Go back to haymakers.
Hitting does hurt since I’m not allowed to hit people, only help them. The car won’t fold around my fist, crumpling on impact like a hatchback smashing the freeway barrier, and it won’t bleed. But despite all that, punches thud home until knuckles split like ripe tomatoes splat.
Hand throbbing, skin torn, deep soreness. The car is no worse for wear. Problems are likewise unaffected. I am still ignored. But there’s a lightness inside now. A breath of something…
Peace of mind maybe. Small violence keeps my voice level, and eyes from narrowing. Even faced with everyone I imagine on the end of tight right hooks.
Collegiate EMT
The wall ahead is Red,
Hanging coats crimson
Dangle, arms loose, while
I long for bed, feeling dread.
Masks behind, bandages aside
I stare at a zoom screen
Thinking of how irreparably
Infected life has gotten now.
Sitting, learning, and burning
In this office at “school”
Kills me. Upstairs and around
Everything decays.
Illness bubbles in every nook
A small place shook
Diatribes about what to do
Ignored or wrenched askew.
“Collegiate EMT”
Means you can offer me $8.50.
After, I sit in class distracted
Before going to risk my health again.
It’s part of the job in some respect,
Yet sitting alone I still reflect
On how medical service is worth that little
Even when a university gets brittle.
The response was too slow.
Even now when we should know
What it takes to isolate
The sickness that still proliferates.
But as misplaced conflict sparks
Argument, good hearts
Make stupid choices.
Don’t listen to informed voices.
The coughing spreads,
Quarantine fills too few beds.
If we’re lucky no one’s lungs will fill
People already forget the virus can kill.
But we know.
We know that breathing isn’t safe
I punched my fucking car to place
A sharp, terrible feeling somewhere physical.
Why won’t they just listen.
Two lines creep across the stick
And then it falls on me to pick
How to tell another person
They’re sick, and they have to take it home.
“I’m sorry,” I say (not for the last time).
“You did test positive.”
My hands were smooth then
Like the wall of coats before me.
Gloves covered them, two masks a head.
Afraid. God, I still see Red.
Class Issue
Yes, inform me about healthcare. How it should be a human right.
Oh, another country has universal healthcare? We should all move there?
They must have no sick people left.
I know health should be a right.
I learned that from a drunk woman, panicked and sobbing.
She couldn’t afford the ambulance I put her in.
Then I returned to class where everyone talks about theories of caring, and
Problems that are at least six feet away.
Great ideas, that require massive personal and institutional wealth.
Everyone agrees with one another, and everyone is so smart.
I learned again from a terrified 14-year-old getting vaccinated with the old people.
Who’s fear of the soldiers and nurses almost exceeded her fear of COVID wracking a body already ravaged by chemo.
Back to class, where we see so much from a distance and can tell someone must be to blame. And how dare the system not be perfect?
That night I get another reminder
From a Pt whose desperate unhappiness caused self-harm.
Still think about that one sometimes.
Good thing my classmates know:
Economic inequality, bad.
Illness and injury, bad.
People need empathy.
Great stuff.
If healthcare was easy, it would be fixed.
If saccharine, progressive circle jerks solved problems
The world would be perfect.
But yeah, dream of universal health and insurance at a $70,000 university.
Get angry about it!
But no matter what, stay safe from the tragic complexity of rural healthcare.
The reality would upset you.
Worth
I see night in fire,
Chilled mornings at sunset
And wrap close dreams tighter.
Bladed ones.
While bandages with spiked sequins
Make the tears bigger.
Eyes wide and trembling,
The fatigue of forgetting eats
At bonds and daylight time.
Blocking spaces of future memory.
Gumming tight the words -
These paper, and some sounded.
Shout to me, or through
Because clamor is all the same
There’s so little to find inside.
So, thanks for the noise
And I’ll try to pick out a meaning
While sputtering in the tired dark.
Just don’t tell anyone, because
It’s a secret gift.
Like whispers over sneaky pillows
To someone new, the current
Missing, maybe gone, dark
Stagnant, so without air.
I knew her before
The night that haunts me.
Felt it coming
Knew we’d end up here.
I met him on
The night that haunts me.
Right away I
Knew we’d end up here.
I wonder if she felt
Something.
It doesn’t matter.
Not meant to be.
I wonder if he felt
Something.
He must have.
We don’t tell the family that.
Early Mourning
Her eyes held stars.
His eyes held stars.
Dim light drips down cheekbones.
I’m lost in the things I know
How the nights are slow
But haunting.
The room is busy
But as she tilts her chin
Smiles
It’s just us.
The room is busy
But as his chin tilts
Mouth half open
It’s just us.
Scraping feet and voices fade
Dawn is close
The light will upset
This place outside time.
After
Empty clarity comes
From loss that drums
Inside the sternum and throat.
Her partner may hate me
Though I was not disrespectful.
But loving her did
Feel wrong at times.
His partner may hate me
I promise we tried everything.
But when a patient dies
It always feels wrong.
Her voice, the night, linger
And I am left treading water.
Legs aching, sick of
The cold repetition.
His body, the sounds, linger
And I am left treading water.
Legs aching, sick of
The cold repetition.
They follow me
Daylight and night, intangible.
I am gripped.
I try to forget
How their eyes held stars
Dim light, the whole world faded.
I never had a chance.
Old Feelings
We have a casual relationship
But intimate, there’s no doubt of that.
It’s been going on for a while
Since about 4th grade if I recall.
Time’s made things predictable, but no less intense in the moment.
Sometimes they appear on schedule
After a death in the family
Or a long, long week.
Other times it’s unexpected
We haven’t chatted for a while, and they show up saying
“Jump in front of that train!”
And I’m like whaaaaaaat
When did you get here?
Crazy.
I don’t miss them when they’re gone
It’s pretty one-sided, if I’m honest.
They’re totally obsessed with me.
I try to say no, end it permanently
But that’s not allowed
So I keep a casual
But intimate relationship with the demons inside.
Never Faded
A long time ago
On a day that hasn’t happened yet
It was early evening.
Just like now.
September.
Air warm with an edge
Made the sunset brighter,
With a contented sense of loss.
The pavement was comfortable
Under bare feet.
Giving off a little heat
Like the hand in mine.
You were there in dying orange,
Without face or spoken word.
Just a warm palm and fingers,
The comfort of understanding,
And loving acceptance
In eyes I could not see.
The sun fell lazily
And I wondered about catching it –
Propping that thing above the mountains
With sheer force of will.
Looking over, I could tell that
The thought was audible.
A contented voice, sweeter than music
Responded.
“I know you could do it.
But I’ll love you equally in the dark
And day or night, we will always remember you.”
Then, with permission,
The sun crossed the horizon.
In half a moment the milky way glowed
As the moon hid
And fireflies danced on softer breezes.
I pulled you closer,
Cheekbone to hair.
“Who is we?” I asked.
“We are the people you met,
The people who care.
Those you taught,
Loved,
Those you helped.
Those you overcame.
And most importantly”
You said, snuggling closer.
Making me safe.
“Most importantly, those who
Forgive you.
You can let them go now.
We will always remember you.
And I will always love you,
Through every sunset yet to happen
And every forgiveness yet to come.”
Then the stars glowed brighter,
Fireflies pinwheeled.
Someone must have caught the sun
Because those lights never faded.
Accept
We talked, alone in a crowd.
Dim light while something warm glowed.
And your eyes held stars
More radiant than the sea
Of bright dresses around us.
We sat on stone steps
Headlights on whispering grass.
Talked music, people, Maine.
Learned about another friend’s
Sweet and sad loves.
We walked back
In first December snow
To a yawning, empty castle. You said
“Sing something in the orange”.
I was drunk and off-key.
We ate greasy Chinese
Talked over four hours
About the scene we made, where
Everything was meant to go wrong.
Just not like that.
We searched in dark rain
For a boy who was probably dead.
Gas fumes, cold blue and red lights
You were almost
The second person to see me cry.
We finally talked about…it.
Knew my feelings and your answer,
But went through the motions.
“My best friend”.
“This feels like a breakup”.
So we look for a comfortable place,
Balancing your obligations
And my high pain tolerance.
It increases every time
We’re alone in a crowd.
Stick Shift
Road is hard, couches soft
Time gets lost
Take me there, take it back
Came with a late May wind
Felt things I won’t feel again
Tasted cold, starry tides
Drove and old stick shift
My mind would drift
I’d let it go
Stalled in the dark
Smelled the clutch burn through my heart
Fell asleep smiling
Woke up, headed down
Let Moreland drown
The silent, temporary town
Wood dock, crimson sky
Saw lonely eyes
Her smile didn’t reach
Long day, late night
Had a moment, had a fight
Didn’t let them go
Watercolor high hopes
Let down, on the ropes
Made suicide jokes
Left town, crossed the bay
Western days
Lack honest living
Sweet nightmares come and go
Each one shows
How I need to
Swim at dawn, stick shift
Let my mind drift
See starry tides in her eyes
Stall in the dark
Smell the clutch burn through my heart
Fall asleep in silence
untitled.
I had a dream I was lost
And wandered back Upstate.
When I arrived
I recognized a few things
But got lost again,
Pushing through crowds
Under stars
Dim lights
And a pointed building
Named after a movie star.
I pushed and wandered
Confused
Then I saw you.
There, in a place you’ve never been
Somehow belonging more than I ever did.
You were talking with some folks, but
Waiting for me.
I knew it soon as our eyes met.
You smiled, made an excuse,
Took my hand
And we were off.
Wandering by ourselves
Through pine trees and streetlamps
While I told you about my places.
I climbed that roof once
Got in a fight there
That’s where I laughed the hardest I’ve ever laughed.
I felt alone by this rock.
When I really needed it, on this path
Someone reminded me to look at the moon.
That’s where he died.
This is where I knew it changed me.
Here’s where I decided to leave.