somehow solemn

pushed open the hospital door
with a hip
blew out smoke
from the first drag
of his last cigarette
and the rain drenched
fleeting resolve
ambition
and his three day-old clothes
"you can't kill
what is already dead"
she said
and ever since
he has tried to find a meaning
beyond the meaning
a meaning he can live with
tell people he knows
people who might give a shit
save face
for anyone who could give a shit
even if they don't
how long to live
how long
are we alive to possibilities
when the past has shown
the possibilities
are not endless
and are too rarely realized
put your tongue back in your mouth
close your legs
and wipe away that simple smile
love is cold
and we are old
older than we used to be
show me a face
and i'll find the blemishes
show me your heart
i'll see emotional problems
hints of things to come
things that close doors
things that end
best intentions
good starts
new days
for screaming
going out of our heads
but somehow solemn
show me everything
i'll show you mine
all the things that would end
all that we would start
better yet
better not
we'd just be wasting
precious time
to spend thinking
about sitting here
in the middle of nowhere
beyond hope
beyond the nicotine-stained claws
of time

forza

begin the night
with arms outstretched
tilt my head back
yell yes
yes
to ghosts of chances
around corners
under neon lights
under rain
under the influence
of a dream
of you
you
with your head back
smiling
with all that you are
brown hair
in the air
fanning perfume
set my night ablaze
with feeling
hell yes
i'm alive
to the sun
all that it shows
farewell to the shade
doubts concealed
hearts revealed
yes
to a feeling
stronger
for thinking
on a love
of a dream
of ghosts of chances
to spend the night with you
tonight
and for always
a love
stronger for thinking
of you
with me
ever after
with you

forgetful hearts 

involuntary hiatus

Regrettably, Spirit Rituals has been relegated to the back seat over the last couple of weeks. Not only have I been immersed in my studies toward commencing my career as a teacher this fall, but my youngest son was hospitalized last weekend with an "immature" breathing condition precipitated by an upper respiratory infection. He is gradually doing better now, but suffice it to say I have had little time to separate my mind from matter of late. Gratefully, I have been enjoying school at Northwestern University in what amounts to a crash/accelerated course toward teaching. I've been meeting some interesting, well-intentioned individuals, and although the course and student-teaching loads are increasingly demanding, I've always found that life is substantially more manageable when one lives and thinks day by day and doesn't obsess too much about the mountainous paths ahead. I'd love to be more specific about my course work and my current journey, and perhaps I will do so in time, but any professional student will recall that when you are a student, you are either: 1) in school/commuting to/from school; 2) doing homework; and/or 3) should be doing homework. Alas, under the cloud of such a realization, most other time is wasted time. Of course that is a stretch, somewhat. It's ever interesting to me to encounter fellow students who are single and/or have no kids who gripe about the work load and work/life balance. Not to downplay the relative trials and tribulations of others (and indeed, so much is relative), the time and single-mindedness afforded single/kidless people is, um, just slightly more than that afforded married/with kids people.

what is there to smile about 

life begins tomorrow 

four more horsemen 

four horsemen 

pardon me, my lady, did you say hiccups or d cups?

he said he'd stop at nothing
but then
something came up
undid his belt
unzipped his fly
oh boy
there was magic in the air
but then
there was no magic
and it's funny
but it's not
there never ever was
it was all just make believe
like sheets on children
render them ghosts
like toy soldiers
killing
every other toy soldier
with rubber bands
and funny mouth sounds
laden with saliva
everything here
from the way the neon lights
shone through the open blinds
to the way she looked at him
when she came to his door
he knew
she knew
he knew
he was as lost
as the money he left
in short stacks
like pancakes
on the edge of the dealer's table
lost
like a boy scout
stranded
in the wilderness
stranded
by so-called friends
lost
mired in drink
the dealer's gaze
laughing
without laughing
better than him
without effort
he turned to touch her
indifferent
to whether she knew
he was crying like a baby
he knew
she knew
he knew
crying
inside and out
through and through
it was written all over his face
if only she'd still been there to read it
then catch his fall
he began at birth