PaD #21

going home now.

long 

day

is

over

.

PaD #20

i looked for you

in the winter

and found you

laying between 

crisp white sheets.

PaD #19

you can see me,

but have stopped 

looking. 

PaD #18

i've allowed my posts

to fall by the way,

but now I am back 

with my poem a day.

PaD #17

there is no one there

today to tell you something.

you are beautiful. 

PaD #16

I like to pretend that
Alec Baldwin is in my head.

Narrating my events like
getting up and going to bed.

"With a little bit of bluster,"
or
"with a calm disguise he went about his day."
These are the words that
Alec Baldwin in my head would say.

But here I am the only voice in my skull
is mine alone - there's no trace of
Alec Baldwin at all.

No "The thing about..."
or "He felt this way."
said by Alec Baldwin in his
Alec Baldwin way.

Alas, my inner voice
is no where near as neat.

I'm hoping Alec Baldwin's becomes
available
that truly would be a treat.

From Schweaty Balls to GlenGarry, to
Describing Tennebaum's strife,

If Alec Baldwin narrated me,
It would be a wonderful life.

PaD #15

i can't have you here.
the line he crossed was her line.
you have to go back.

PaD #14

and in the end
nothing was broken
except for a few
hearts.
casualties of war.

PaD #13

the sun is out,
the grass is green,
winter is almost dead.
it's warm outside
yet cold indoors,
for I am sick in bed.

PaD #12

hands on body.

skin on skin. 

on and off

and 

in-between.

PaD #11

the crisp, clean white shirt

makes the very best impression.

a knight in armour.

PaD #10

a bit of self pity. 

a writer writes

just as cuts must bleed.

just as day will be night

and grass is from seed.

but this writer here,

doesn't write anymore

his down is up

and his pen is a bore. 

PaD #9

lay down on the grass

with me and run your fingers 

through my fresh cut hair. 

PaD #8

mouth to mouth,

toe to toe,

hand on back,

nose to nose.

eyes open,

will 

closed.

we're together.

we're alone.

lips to lips

and 

loin to loin.

resist if you wish but

you know where this is going. 

PaD #7

sunrise

gravity gets us all 

though 

a part of me remains

defiant

especially

when you wear your

favourite shirt. 

PaD #6

 Tulips, Daffodils and Dirt

Spring is here, spring is here.

Tulips and daffodils and dirt.

Blessed are the sightings of

the short and flowing skirt.

Spring is here, spring is here.

Tulips daffodils and dirt. 

It also means the taking off 

of my neighbour's blasted shirt. 

  

PaD #5

Today, 

will be spent

in

thoughts 

of 

you. 

PaD #4

I

could

stare

at

you

all

day.

10 Things Wrong

Excerpt from Dean Wareham's memoir "Black Postcards: A Rock n Roll Romance" 

I can see why they were so upset with me. How could a friend do such a thing? But I would counter that we were not quite friends at that point. We were bandmates. Our friendship didn't go down the drain in a minute flat. Our friendship had been trickling down the drain for a couple of years now.

Was there something wrong with Damon and Naomi? Or course there was—my therapist says there are ten things wrong with every person. There are plenty of things wrong with me, too.

Some of my best friends are crazy. But that's okay, because I don't have to ride in a van with them for five weeks. We're just friends. Damon and Naomi were lovely people, brilliant and artistic and likable. I loved Damon's fluid, jazzy style on the drums, and Naomi's simple and melodic bass parts. I like Damon's poetry and Naomi's miniature paintings. But they were driving me crazy.

10 things huh? 

Damn. 

PaD #3

Dirty.

a fantastic thought

passed through me

while we were speaking.

but i refuse to tell you.

this one is mine.

Theology from a Four-Year-Old

"I guess God must be the last number." 

huh. 

Poem a Day #2

oh the joy in writing a poem a day,

and delighting in the trickiness of 

tricky word play. 

i'll pile the words high 

with a metaphorical shovel,

anything to put off

writing that dammed 

novel. 

Poem a Day # 1

Some need
a kiss upon the forehead.

Some need
a kiss against a wall.

Some need
to be left to their lonesome,

Without any kisses at all.