opened and exposed
clearer dawns have risen before
spent and hollow how we’ve grown

held up high the truths we’ve heard
caught between the falling eyes and thoughts again

wait no more for now you know
how to feel the breath of wise minds gone astray
hang up the look of emptiness
towards the sky
you see the future smile

as the lights go out
rolling visions hide low and silent
take some time oh how you’ve grown

awoken by the tone of what you’ve seen in the past
cut the time and drinks in half

how long will this last?


He fathered them all,
Their blushing mother nursed them,
Balanced them in the gentle sway of her delicate fabric.
As children they loved their Mother,
In awe of the Father that provided all.
From a shared cradle they emerged,
Brothers and sisters.

From above, their Father watched their wanderings.
Illuminating their world with light and life,
As He made His way across the sky.
In four directions His children spread,
Chasing horizons over great distances.
Like seeds on a wind.

The Children of the East, welcomed their Father each day.
The Children of the South, best knew their Father’s warmth.
The Children of the West, danced to their Father’s music.
The Children of the North, grew distant from their Father.
Discovering in the shadows of their Father’s absence,
The cold side of a lonely Mother.

Building walls they turned inward,
Growing pale in their solitude.
Nearsighted through honed dexterity,
Pride swelling with the power of creation.
Linguistic palaces ascended to heaven,
Their father and mother subjugated by name.

They charted the distant stars.
They mapped the earth’s contours.
They mastered inferior races.
They worshiped themselves.
Fair skin easily seared,
By a father made sun.


The Quality of Memory

Given enough time,

All things are rendered neuter…

Given enough time.


A brown streak of smog
hangs above the horizon
like a skidmark in the sky;
an embarrassing stain left behind
on December’s crystalline-
blue perfection.

How Did You Learn To Touch So Gently?

How did you learn to touch so gently?
Able to caress the silence of night,
Left hand as soft as the right.
It must have taken practice,
Sweet and gentle practice.

How did you learn to glow so golden?
I’ve seen this color on you before,
On a beach far away,
The sun setting like a volcano in the sky,
My toes raking through the sand,
As we were bathed in warm and golden light.

How did you learn to touch so gently,
And how did you learn to glow so golden?
It must have taken practice.
Sweet and gentle practice.

Kraft the Redeemer (based on a true story)

And cries could be heard far and wide as the hunger set in.  The peanut-butter jar was now empty and echoing the sounds of despair as the knowledge set in that no sandwich would be made this day.  But then Kraft the Redeemer took up the jar of vacant nuts and oils and began to scrape at the walls with an unadorned knife, transforming this simple jar from a useless, hollow item into something hallow.   The cool metallic clanks of steel on glass could be heard resonating throughout the kitchen, as hungry urchins held their breath and stared with bulging eyes.  Witnesses would recount far into the future the fantastic spectacle they beheld, as little by little peanut-butter continued to fall from the jar upon the toasted bread, creating a meal where no meal sat before.  Songs of rejoicing illuminated the linoleum surface and drifted out through the open windows, for today a miracle was witnessed – the miracle of the Immaculately Conceived Sandwich.

the mornings are the hardest

the mornings are the hardest.
i wake with thoughts of you

weighing on my chest

more heavy than pneumonia.

your name has crawled its way

into every corner of my lungs,

and each morning i must cough it out
into muffled pillows,
with slow deep breathes,
until the chest burns
and eyes water.

Desert Reflection

I understand the extent
of my contradictions
And reconciliation is
why I am here.
A purposeful life is
the reason for being,
Under the sun we can’t
hide from our fears.

Walk so my steps fall silent,

Breathe so my lungs feel power,

Fragmented thoughts fall away,

Without moments of self-reflection.


12:24 A.M.

I can’t sleep during
A thunderstorm; I’m afraid
I might miss something.


Lightning is the sun,
Breaking through the clouds to help
Guide those who are lost.


So much can be seen
By searching the silhouette
of a moonless sky.

9:41 P.M.

Highway reflectors
Pass by my tired eyes like
Twilight fireflies.

“Hey Guys, You Wanna Go To Elliots…?” (The Chris Haiku)

Martinis are not
Union made, goddamnit!  I
Need a tallboy, now.