Banjolin

"I gave you all your wishes, you took them one by one,

Then you left me in a darkened place, the day you stole my sun,

But I am still glad I met you, you made me feel like I could fly,

Even though you broke my heart, I will love you till I die."

Mr. Wakefield

shame on me for not bringing this to you earlier.

quiet mirth

When the last of them turn south
And this city rolls to a stop
Think of me, dear

With the silence settling slowly and with patience
Like smoke in the lungs
I know that you would like it here

You would breathe this in like pine forests
Crawl through its branches
And climb towards the sun

You would thank me for what it has to offer
And what you will become

Astrology

i pass them as they sit
at the long bar of the diner
where i waste my nights

they meet me with their eyes as i depart
then follow up with the slightest nod
and we understand each other

i'm reminded in those moments
that the longing to be balanced
and steady, and decent
lives in every man

The Gift of Fire

I spend years on the edge of the world
sheltered from it
I watch the coronas trace the concentric circles of energy beneath me
I bide my time and gather my rest

I expel
my energy firing in bursts
jumps
just high enough to glimpse the fault lines

I imagine
if the tonnage shifted from Atlas' throngs
with arms like tree trunks
and legs of stretched iron

I realize
the burden
that would ring louder and show brighter
than I could ever bare to falter upon

but when I hear you in the other room
with a distracted fascination
at the center of your voice

I am muted and dulled
I wonder myself weak

about a persisting burden of righteousness
and for you to want the same

And as you turn the corner and fix your gaze to mine
I know nothing of the gravity from these myths
I shun it's pull
I bask in it's fiery corona

I know only that we are still so young
and Atlas can wait another winter
I know it

one hundred strangers

in a few hours it will be the international day of peace
i'm neck deep in quiet
the love of a waning september

the winds will soon grow cold and harsh,

but for now it feels hot and empty
like the ice; its needed
like the starkness of it will wake me

I don't seem to catch the leaves changing
as if they go from deep green to shining gold in a matter of hours
as if they fall overnight

as if the markets pack up
and the streets grow from grey to white

when porch swings go silent
and the two young lovers part ways for the winter

he goes to georgia,
where the wind simply chills
and the frosts are cause for conversation

she goes to maine,
where she is lost in the torrent
and the people are able to collectively marvel
each night,
in the calm silence of snowfall.

these legs are for flight.