(2013)
All that I know how to do is write about death without dying and write about life
I grew up in a house built in 1937 long before codes and regulations and sometimes
There is poetry in nature better left to be spoken wordlessly by the breeze
Everyday I visit the only writers block I know to hone my words and wit and help them cut deeper into the skin
I know that you were there in my dreams and in my arms Every dream we
Everyone sees god in a different light but I was born without eyes
There seems to be a drought in my… but who knows if it is the cause or the result of the war raging within me
I thought I could drink you away but I had to stop being so drunk on you first
Forever seems like so long until I think of all the times spent waiting
I would write a sweet poem and title it with your name if I loved you at all
I’ve always been at the very least a little caught up on everything about you This idea of you
I see words screaming for attention etched in the lines of your face Let me look closer
I hope this is postmarked before my death certificate is dat… but you’ll know why if it is or if it isn’t If you get this in time
So much time passes without feeling a single thing that I think I would give anything
I see poems that need to be written scrawled in the shape of your smile and the lines of your face
