Reach in

Patricia, before fame

Played for keeps.

Competition was her muse

She wrote her first book

Won the acalades she sought

Changed her face in surgeons chair

And still

In the pages of her, I read quiet despair

A pervasive loneliness in loose leafed characters

They screamed on her behalf, when she could only

Type help.

You, today, walking, lost

With large red dog 

And small foot tattoo

You had the same shape

An edge to your corners, as sharp as spite

A quietude and a silence, sadness set firm in your eyes.

I wanted to ask


Or reveal what I already knew 

In just having met, the corners and the distance

No match for feeling, across tow path

And into that personal space, where you laid your sorrow out

I smiled a great smile

Thinking …

Can a smile impart a hundred thoughts?

You passed, and the wetness of your loss

Felt like brief rain on my arm

Two strangers and a dog

It was as if it hadn’t happened


You reminded me so much of Patricia

And her emptiness, written throughout each story

You see … we recognize each other

As much as for who we are not, as our similarities

Strange bedfellows of perverse and solitary, mearly trying to tred water.

If I’d spoken more, I would have asked;

Do you walk through the high grass to see the butterflies?

Do you feel the sun before it gets too hot?

Will we walk in the same direction and in time perhaps …

Talk of how we came to choose, empty steps, over laughter

You never know

They could be everything, or perpetual stranger

A moment, and no more

Or the rest of your life.

Instead of pulling away, if you reached into them

Like leaves blown, will fall, one on top, one below

A path of many 

Creating singular



jesusblgirlOne night

so long ago the date is erased

I sat in an unfamiliar room in grainy dark

closed my eyes

thinking of you

who had forsaken me

I asked the void

if you are there

reach out now

my cell phone glowed

one message received

we met

in dead of night

a strange cold

you had changed your hair

I was all dried up from tears

like Scandinavian fish

staring out of pickling jars

show in desiccated eyes

the measure of hurt

you put your head in my lap

and somehow

even though it should never have happened

we fused back together

like glass evolves over years

in mire of elements so easily broken

if not for chance

I am glass of a volcano

I always knew you would rupture

spewing me as lava

discard your carefully stacked fire

was it worth how I feel now?

screaming into silent night?

watching for you to hear?

when maybe you never did?

it was merely coincidence

we thought serendipity