corvids.

take matters of the heart
and put them in your hands,
in the end,
his story will remain the same.

it will not matter
that he did not choose you,
that is his loss; his burden.

how do you put a price
on the thoughts in your head-
put it to paper
and scan the barcode
on the jacket.

he once told you how he used
to talk to crows,
and none of them talked back.

but now he talks to no one
but himself.

Trials and Errors.

"What Odysseus does not know
will not hurt him,"
Penelope thinks,
each time she takes
another warrior man
into her bedroom.

By the time the sun
breaks the horizon,
all her knitting
has unraveled once again,
wrinkled in a corner
of the bed.

The next day, the men
will fight over
who will get
to join her.

Years later, on his return,
Odysseus thinks
Penelope is smiling
because she missed him.

But what a man
don't know
won't hurt him.

first rate tragedies.

there is a light
that looks like fire

-but it does not hold heat-

we call it
the Sun
in canada

ferry fare.

forever seems
like it will
stretch (like your mother's stomach did once)
into a time
longer than it really is

this river is too
wide
to cross without a boat.
the story of
a thousand lives.

never:
1.
not ever; at no time

ending:
1.
a bringing or coming to an end; termination; close

forever just means neverending.

west coast blues.

too much rain
is hard on the soul.

it dries us out,
until our insides shrink
and wither.

the winters are long,
arduous, another word for hard.

the rainwaters are dirty,
they carry heavy thoughts,
heavy weights.
pours down until
your head caves inward.

in on you.

your breath comes
shallow, quick, like
the rain dripping
down the hollow of your cheek.

you repeat it in your head,
"It is never too late"
never thinking
that it is.

thoughts on dying.

the world is slowly,

so slowly,

dying.

dying of life.

if a spider climbed your back,

grazed it's sticky

hands across your skin,

and chose a piece

of flesh,

one it found more juicy;

more tempting.

what would you do?

there is no,

"Oh yes Spiderman, keep going..."
because you do not feel a thing.

the world is slowly

biting you, spreading poison,

but you do not notice.

you are asleep.

you are blind.

the bites are sharp and quick,

not many,

but enough.

it is a slow death.

good evenin'.

these days,
seems like times are changin
slower than normal.
it's different,
i'm still getting used to it.

there was a time,
when i thought
everyone was innocent.
nobody had a thing to hide.

now i know better.

i've learned my lessons,
ones not taught in classrooms.
it happened the hard way.

a truth.

even in the sunlight,
you are blind.