We can be strangers if you like
We can talk about the weather
Our silly plans for the weekend
Or how life has been kind to us
Trust me, I'm a terrific actor
You'll hardly be able to tell

We can be strangers if you like
Or at least we can pretend that
It doesn't shred us to pieces...

Searching for Galileo,
    the race to be first home,

In a sea of patients
    we climb the probability tree,
    walk upon the shore collecting
      memory shells,

We win the little wars,
     lose the big fight,

These windows are breathing apparatus,
     this ceiling, a blur of tungsten sky,
     rain, tears, weep,

To rest near to you,
     the technicolor sleep,
     and I died with you,

All farewells are sudden.

Compare me to her pretty mind.
It's like looking into a foggy mirror,
where the only things I see
are the parts you feel don't need improvement.

Compare me to her pretty mind.
Cut me open and rearrange my insides
so that I fit your better mold.

Compare me to her pretty mind.
So the only thoughts that consume me
are "how do I become better than her?"

Compare me to her pretty mind.
Tell me that I need to be strong in who I am,
then list me the reasons as to why
I won't measure up to your relentless expectations.

Compare me to her pretty mind.
Push me over the edge
and assume I'll sit quietly
like your pretty mold.

Compare me to her pretty mind.
So that when the day is done,
and I lay awake at night,
I know my best will never be enough to please you

calm seas, restless lungs

breathe it in
the mournful breath is out there

skin is numb

the words are too

holding still
hidden under the tongue

holding
hidden

one more dies before he gets there
(what did the letter say...?)

holding
hidden

what did it say...?

On earth, in air, on water,
light is its own essence--
an enchanted dance,
a harmony of rhyme
in quick pearling as on
the surface of a pool ;
Or, it’s slow, expanding
as if some obstacle is in
the way.

Beyond sight’s reach,
light glides, swan-like
or blinks, star-like or
dapples uncertain between
sun and shadow.

A match darts it’s first
white flame, then flickers.
Splashing sparks may
tumble over pebbles or
moon repeat itself
a thousand times.
A translucent cascade
of bright snow illuminates
a winter field ; the gentle
glow of a candle flame
warms the heart.

Even what seems
forever dark as
midnight’s blackest
mood is not immune
to opening to the glory
of light.