Thursday, October 3, 2013


Oh, hey there, jet stream
Looks like you got left
Behind with me.
And we’re just fixed
Here unintentionally
like predetermined
objects pasted on
with miles of smiles.

And don’t you know

That we can go.



But let’s just stay awhile
And we’ll make the most
of a blue sky.

Friendly Fire

She wraps her dreams in cellophane,
Sending them off like toy soldiers
camouflaged in brown paper bags.
But every war is started by someone
older; the young are lost on foreign
soil, grasping for meaning (or maybe
not) that is thrust upon their backs;
the dead weight of yesterday
is screaming for the light.