crunchy

I’m a wholesome snacker,

He said proudly.

But

Are pretzels really wholesome?

Perhaps not.

a poem for an engineer

do you see?
do you hear?

why do you ask things
with no purpose
and no answer,
engineer?

don’t try to talk human,
leave that to me.

20 stone steps
surround 20 times 20 fountains
each providing perfect arcs
and please notice the
.20 millimeters between each
perfect droplet of water

don’t you hear the symphony of these
20 times 20 sprayers
as they waste 20 times a million gallons of

chlorinated water

that even on a sticky day
is unwelcoming to sweat drenched travelers

unless of course
they are 20 inches tall, or 2020 years old,

but please perch
on these oh-so-perchable 20 inch steps.
made just for you.

rock on 1 chart

when i was lost i walked
the streets
and there was
a light

when i find
her i’ll tell her
i don’t know you
a lie for a lie

for her heart and
your life
because
i wasn’t

you weren’t
looking
but light can lie even
as it blinds
binds

and i found her
when i didn’t even know

i was lost

perpetual anticipation

do you know of sondheim and
his propensity
for the bizarre and beautiful?

do you know of the comforting
quality in the weight of the
comforter and the down
and the smoothness of the sheets
as you sleep?

our song  is
a perpetual one
at various times i whistle
hum or scream it
to see if you hear it too

too darn happy

those lonely thoughts
glimpses of what could have been
beautiful miseries
that I love to grasp onto
and weave into my every
moment

are absent

when I drive now
i sit content
my pencil is still

when i try to write
everything comes out
puppies and rainbows

sunshine and unicorns

today
i’m just

too darn happy

check back
tomorrow

old news

i’m left with a hollow place

a crushing ache

a vibrant smile (fake)

 

it might be personal

because i take it that way

but you took some too

and your eyes will be open

 

crisp and tart

the original sweetness

the original sin

 

if i were allowed to live

in your garden

would i tire of

your perfection?

 

lose the

spark

the thrill

the excitement of

our connection

 

would butterflies

eventually remain

still at the thought

of your face?

 

could i grow tired

of such a place?

 

if i did

i would still choose

to hold your hand as

we fell from grace

 

the tartness

the sweetness

the original sin

 

if they were mine to taste

for my taste in weather

When she said,

Yummy clouds today,

I knew for sure

That she belonged

To me.

 

Thanks, mom.

those tattooed boys

i miss those

lanky tattooed boys

with their easy laughs

and sarcastic smirks

 

i miss those

quiet girls

whose  smiles

you have to earn

 

those geniuses

who know it

but dont

flaunt it

 

the music theorists

musicologists

stern conductors

bad bassoonists

 

i miss those

infinite hours

of possiblity

dark beer flowing

 

comfy days

of solitude

amongst strangers

and steaming coffee

 

I miss those nights

of silly boys

with endless lyrics

and no plan for tomorrow

sucker

it’s poison! poison!

i say 

as i watch myself

take another bite