Dec 08

9pm: Richmond Village

It’s that moment
when you realize this town
is nothing
like the City....
the cold stinging 
your face
and the silence
from the corners
of this small town:
the place by the train track
and the dark parking lot
behind the church...
all to small
for your head to comprehend. 

And then your realize,
much to quickly,
that this is the place
you belong,
maybe the place
you’ll stay
Dec 05

Questions From the Science Student (thoroughly confused)

Dec 05

City Air: almost breathable

Sometimes its good 
to be a

oddly, it’s very comforting:
the aloneness
in a world of people...  

Both fulfilling and quiet:
reunited to a culture 
of fast moving creatures;
who get excited
about everything 
and smile when needed.
taking a breath,
no longer necessary:
almost learning
to live
without air. 
Dec 05

The View From Mars

Nov 30

Thoughts From a Friend

You would laugh 
if I told you 
I thought the world
was just as beautiful
as it’s supposed to be.

You would probably smile
if I told you that 
you make me happy,
suddenly at a loss
of words to show
you how... 

You would definitely hug
if I told you
I would be leaving now,
I would know
how much you cared
just by looking at those blue eyes. 
You were always one to be careful
Nov 28

To All Those Who Wonder Why

There’s no such thing
as nothing.

It’s a comforting
in a world 
so empty 
sometimes I can’t even

Isn't it encouraging 
to know your 
not alone? 

...Sometimes toes
don’t like to be found.  

There’s no such thing 
as nothing 
because once you 
label it “blank space”...
it’s something.

But you know,
Nov 24

Reports From the Edge of the World

(tippy top of the freedom tower) 

I never knew I could fly, 
at least not that high.

I never knew that city lights 
could be so many colors at once,
a pulsing, swirling mess of life...
recognizable from thousands of miles away.

No doubt confusion, a simple fact. 

And then there’s the water,
smooth and so flat
that if you sneezed from up here
you could probably see the ripples.
Nov 19

The Sleepy Reality

It was one of those days
where I couldn’t 
reality from dream;
to tired to think,
yet to alert 
to sleep. 

Neither ghost nor human,
maybe somewhere 
between the two,
sleepily stumbling
through life.
Neither present nor happy. 

Today, was one of those days. 
Nov 18

Rainy Soul Sputtering

I wrote a poem, 
with that small red pen you gave me,
ink slipping across the page 
and onto unsuspecting fingertips.  
Just enough to cover 
the parts where 
ink met pen met finger.

I wrote a poem 
on the bench 
outside of the train station,  
people bustling by: 
to busy to stop and look for a moment, 
honking cars 
and the slight 
smell of gasoline 
bubbling from the vents.

I wrote a poem