Thursday, June 21, 2012



Beneath the lacquer
the thin layer of shiny
the glossy
the new
and defined by such
and untouched
Kept up

Ready for the mounting
behind windexed glass
on top of polished wood
we are placed
Our chiseled bodies
Our coated faces
Shown off

Look not at the grain underneath
Developed years of lines
The etching away of knots
and unusable ugliness
Acknowledge not the sanding away
The shaving of circle into square
Sandblasted and primed
into the newly socially acceptable

Illusion and delusion
Better and best
How we shine
from over there
above the fireplace
on the mantle
Brought out
Dusted off

We are just beneath the surface
desperately wanting to get out
To burn it away, this gloss
To melt it away, this fa├žade
To say something, anything

To voice an opinion
Right or wrong
Good and bad
Different, yet same
To say, “I’m here”
I am here.

Thursday, June 14, 2012



Jenny found a penny
and named it Lenny
and carried it with her everyday
Flipping and skipping
making her prediction
Ultimately escaping
her decision making.

So, she didn’t go far
out of her yard
Inquiring heads
and asking the tails
Impatiently awaiting
for that check in the mail.

It’s a hard, long road
that we travel alone
weathering the turns we take
But decisions are made
and we are forced to play
the hand that is dealt on the way.

So, Jenny asked Lenny
if she should marry Benny
and Lenny said that Benny was okay
But Lenny was a penny
and didn’t know Benny
and Jenny made a mistake some say.

It’s a long, long road
The decisions come hard
and who knows the path we should take
Life has its chances
and Tango dances
we are simply forced to fake.

So, Jenny looked at Lenny
and said, “Hey there, Penny,
I think I’ll store you away,
now is the time
and this is the way,
I think I’ll become an adult today.”



and alienate yourself
to the nth degree

and silence yourself
with a paper degree

and hide yourself
under that P..h..D..

Talk to no one
in the privacy of you
Read to someone
in the corner of a vacant room

Think with the best
dead philosophy
Learn the strokes
Dead painters’ gallery

Admire yourself
along this dead road’s mystery
You’re not alone
You’re your best company

to a place that is nowhere
and learn to be yourself
out there

You are educated
above the living

Sing your praises to the dead


Thursday, May 31, 2012


We love the first unknown
the shadow
unrevealed dark
around the corner
waiting to discover
but not yet

We love the question
not quite answered
The anxious all built up
not calmed by its reality
We love the unknowing
the something to ponder and figure out

We love the endless journey
before the flag sinks into the ground
We love the first glance in the eyes
the held breath before the meet

The first laugh
well, the second

The first kiss
definitely the second

The first joke
probably the third

The first
..You know
Very much the second..the third..
..the fourth..

The first to humor us
the new into old
the shoe worn into the right spots
the joke that no one gets
the gleam underneath the smile
the spoken subject in public that is
..deliciously private

We love.