Day 19 – You Are

You are
a mountain of pillows
after a long day.

You are
a long-awaited
Friday-night margarita.

You are
my pizza pal.

You are
a warm bath
a sounding board
a hug.

You are
common sense
when I’ve lost it.

You are
a surprise
every day


you are

I am


Day 17 – Sick Day

There is nothing that a doctor
could find wrong with me-

so I cannot get a note.
But I’m staying home

I’ve got a fever of the mind
I can’t prove,
yet I feel

collapsed from the inside,
from holding steady
too long.

There is a seed of grief
I have to tend to
before it grows big,

a sadness which wonders
at all the scuttling,
all the getting by.

“Am I getting lost?”

I know this road too well,
I know the cost,
I know the cure,

and today I’m calling out
to fix myself.

Year 2: Day 134 – I Must Be Lost

Zebra daisies, snozberry wine,
dip into my dreams,
the purple water’s fine.
If you look for me and
you don’t find me there,
well I must be lost,
I must be waiting for you
to arrive.

Calico sunrise, juniper moon,
I’m always at¬†one end
of a glass balloon.
If you’re having trouble
tracking where I’ve gone,
well I must be lost,
I must be counting down
to you.

Saccharine cactus, wings of the sea,
my dreams are mine
but they are not me.
If you can’t find me in dreams
where I belong,
well I must be lost-
or you must not see where I
could be.

Year 2: Day 104 – Now Do You Believe?

Now do you believe
that we are never-ending,
that we can speak across the universe
in the language only we know?

When I had counted you gone
but could not feel right
without writing your name
on the first page,

and you had counted me gone
but could not feel right
without opening that book
to find your name

do you believe it’s been long enough
to prove us blood?

When I wrote though I knew
you weren’t reading,
but I couldn’t help myself

and you knew that I wasn’t
writing for you,
but you couldn’t help yourself

do you believe we are eternal,
long-lost brother, do you believe
in sibling souls, do you believe
we could’ve been found
any other way?

Year 2: Day 3 – Written With Guilt And Not At All

It’ll be written with guilt and not at all,
everything I wish I could write to you,
a thousand lines in a teardrop
wiped away before bed again.

In the morning I stand on the front lines,
proud to battle on,
and I don’t know if it’s guilt
that keeps me there,
but it certainly helps.

Was it me that killed your voice
and stopped the wrestling,
or was it just a side effect of ever after-
is the fire withheld from me
or is it gone?

Y’know I never meant to let you give up that easy,
but maybe I’m the only one who needs to fight.

And so I carve your name in every conquered city
as for a dead comrade who should’ve had that chance,
but I don’t even know if you’d have wanted it,
if you’ve got better things to do with all your time.

And the guilt that I could write about believing
that it had anything to do with me at all
is a companion to the fear that keeps me moving
’cause I don’t want whatever thing
it may have been.

Because if happiness picked off the greatest brawler I have known,
my fate is sealed to fight for both of us alone,
so that everything I could ever wish to write to you
must be written, bound in guilt, and not at all.


Don’t forget to check out my first anthology, Candy Pizza: Poetry that’s Fun and Healthy, available on Amazon & Kindle.