Only I Know

I'm here and you're

there. I'm somewhere

in between.

Home is where 

the heart is—

but my heart is

everywhere. 

It's running around,

being stretched and

overused.

I'm being squeezed 

into every bottle 

I call a situation.

There is hardly 

an ounce of

room for my precious

little feelings. 

My foreseen path 

isn't the official 

one I'm sure—

but somethings

gotta give. 

Dissolving Companion

About 5 miles in

you reach a point

            where the grass doesn’t

grow anymore.

There is a wrench

a rope

an old faucet

and week old eggs.

Hours will pass and

            your hair will fall

                        out and you will loose

everything.

You never meant

for

this

great schism.

The wind now binds

                        us as one body

            one that is defined as

logy.

2015 Analecta

I am honored and flattered to be in...

Let me restate that, it is the coolest feeling being in this years Analecta at IU South Bend.

The editors have done an incredible job piecing together this years issue with admirable work from all fields of academia.

The cover is also too perfect...

Recollect and Collect

They often wear one color, a

solid color, chosen by the master.

This color reflects.

It actually reflects for safety. Just

like sealed meat in the depths

of a moldy cellar.

I’m being serious.

This young fellow (or woman)

gather metal specimens for a living.

Stop—this is to be highly praised.

I am pleased, just pleased with their

work. My eyes latch over thanksgiving

feast thanking the cart gatherers.

They are called the cart gatherers, right?

I love their orange hats and dark blue gloves.

They do me a great service indeed.

I take these things for granted too often.

It’s like how I take my nails for granted.

They protect my fingers like tiny

hard hats—that in reality can’t be yellow.

I take care of my nails don’t worry.

Oh son, one will loose its way—it is ever

so inevitable.  Like sheep they are.

Take care my dear fellow shepherds.

Accepted

I am pleased to say that two of my poems "Acrobat" and "Type B" were accepted into IU South Bend's 2015 issue of the Analecta.

I Remember Now

It's all wrong, I made a 

mistake and it's all wrong.

The roses were trimmed,

the vines were tamed, and 

the soil was plowed. It was 

in order until I made the 

mistake,

the mistake that almost

lost the garden. It may seem

like no big deal, but it's about

respect, honor, and guidelines 

to some sort of will. The 

garden wasn't watered it 

was choked by the unthinkable. 

Something so sneaky, sleasy, 

and simple you just might mistake

it. I'm the unthinkable that now

knows what to think. 

Not Sure Why

He said I've become someone
new and he's become someone

better. I've been on a mountain
for the past three months and

I've never been better. I'm being
completely honest here. I've

grown a whole inch and half
and I started growing highlights

in my hair, naturally! So yes, yes
I have become someone new.

It's pretty obvious and I'm pretty
ecstatic to say the least. It's not

about my indoor plants dying or
my shower drain being clogged...

it's about the principle of washing
your hands, you see?

Type B

Karen was infused
to become a mushroom.
Oil became distilled,
ginger was cleansed, and
all the evidence was
eliminated. Now she's a
lemon. No longer a
vegetable in a cell.

Crime-Noir

It all started with a
city on a hill where

luxury and fortune came
along with adulthood.

It was a necessity to have
pockets full of pamphlets

to create the thinkers of
tomorrow. There's this

conspiracy that the royals
chanting could be heard

from years away. That may
all be a hoax. I've been in

a coma since my wife left.
Those with a license

to say so will tell you
the city does sleep.

National Goals

Clearly he is the boss.
He attains the open/shut policy
to cultivate the hard-working

hands in any such circumstance.
For example, the bake sale. His working
climate dismisses all bemoaning

and weeny creatures. I have every
excuse to believe that he suffers from
ageism. His order of life events has

prevented a recognizable bake
sale. Retirement requires gained
intelligence and a stone-cold heart.

Nothing but Illusions

I'll lie directly
and subtly into
your palms. We
begin a cycle of
adaptation to
the alignments of the
stars. Predestination
lies within Sunday's
star drawn from
the influence. The
influence that comes
from the judgement that
lies within poetry.
A harmless gateway
to the devil's dramatic
conditions that lead
me to the signs of
water and fire. I'll
regain my strength by
unlawful observation.