The Darien Gap

Darien drove a truck off a bridge
Right after he told me
He’d rather be eating seeds
Put it into gear no apologies

Darien and I would go out alot

One time we were in a club and a girl slipped and fell
When she was getting up well…

We saw it all. A’hem. Yea that.

We just stared and oh hell –

He thanked her.
He. He thanked her

The shallower the river, the deeper the flood

Darien drove a truck off a bridge and I’m sitting here thinking about him while you tell me about your day

The blue in snow


The cobwebs on the door
Broken bottles on the floor
So many ashtrays spilling over
Dirty trash can dies if sober
Empty whiskey bottles overrun
We are all blacked out from the sun
You always told me “little son

You should just hate on everyone”

At the bottom of the stairs
A which way sign but no one cares
I cannot stop the cold from blowing in
Corroded coins fill up a rusty tin

There is no phone to make a call
I’ve just been screaming at the wall
No ones ever left this room before
A shackled tragic weeping whore
I’m so afraid of
To never be let out past the door

Is this a terror or a rage
Like our voices it will change
It’s no one’s fault that we all age
But is your fault that you were dying
And its mine for running away
Now it’s mom who’s left there crying
Sold asunder lead astray
The sound of silence it cannot fade

Like a Maine accent
the winters were too cold
A crypt of the ancient
Death in a basement
a shallow goal
There’s much more blue in deeper snow
Escaping that I travelled down the road
Black ink on white a story unfolds
Poetry like truth words best untold?

Well the world is just as dusty
wagon wheels worn and rusty
No matter how far from you I’ve run
From that tomb thus become
the shadow of the sun
What you’ve taught can’t be undone
just like father. just like son
Drunken bastard you are gone
And I still hate. on everyone




Fathers figure


I had two paternal influences
Raised me to be two men, but one
Not the same

Like in life you both chose my mother
In one month you both chose your graves

You’ve showed me two ways to be
Two ways to live. love.
Two ways to stay.  Two ways to leave
And only one not like the other

gave me time to grieve

Dad we’d walk the trail together
Into dark wood. white floor, leaves brown

Father we’d walk the beach in cold weather
Waves come and go, some waste away, some drown

Here’s to Harry flying in his taxi
Taking tips always getting stoned
Here’s to Robert on his safari
Just this last line men – welcome home





We spoke of raccoons

I was dumbfounded in myself
I was concerned over the discomfort of my own arm
while holding your hand as you fought so hard to catch final breaths
your pain so real
but its only mine I can feel

You awoke and you whispered that you had no regrets
Remember at age 6 all alone I was left
you ran off – thought I’d let you forget?

we spoke of raccoons

you spoke of great things that you’d done in your life
seen the world in its beauty made lovers and friends
you left behind worries, empty places. your wife
and than you pulled me in close, being a dad never ends
you left behind smoking told me do whats right
and since you planted that seed I’ve not lit up since
yea I quit too dad but like you I’ll still die

than you asked me to write. I can’t even find words.
we spoke of raccoons, flowers and birds

What breath your last? would you die with eyes closed?
Do you believe that I loved you? Did you know I write prose?
I was a child when you left me and now I’m all grown
I won’t get these answers time is not mine to own

your eyes wide, you blinked and looked scared
I wiped away the drool from your face, your hair
but my arm hurt and throat dry
I just left you there.
I did not cry

looking out the window, breathing from your tube
looking out. from your pillow.

there he is.

the raccoon



Harley Davidson

Of all the friends and I’ve lost them all
the one I miss the most is sanity
it was my decision to block his calls
there stand naked I without his profanity

I am the truth that didn’t come dream
holding a pen whose sorrow is ink
not sure the order to follow with words
a chewed cap godless I follow the herd

you swallowed that cubicle future
that bathroom stall
like so many you were sold a prison
when your heart died blood stopped in those walls
silenced heart the soundless incision

I can’t stop now in any one place
the Earth she breathes white cells get replaced
I swim the oceans looking for seas
standing still is what kills It was yours that disease

Even empty clouds do block out the sun
have their place in the world like the way that I run
it seems no point that they sometimes carry no rain
more than shade in their rivers wet tombstones and pain

like I who carry around this black book with your words its
pages my heart

my mind

my shadow

my hurt