I've always been a good diver
but somehow my boundaries
took to the river
and I feel like I'm always
forcing my own way upstream

Instead of letting my dreams
float, steer and catch hold of
the things that are good for me.

Lost in the the undertoe
I begin to shiver and quake
while bits of me break off

and flake and dissolve
in the acidic oceans of inanity
that engulf us all.

So, I'm left catching hold
of pieces by each finger and toe
hoping to no one in particular
that I never let go

Control is an issue, I'm aware
that you can't hold it all
together on your own
but the current pushes on
and on and on

As I try not to fall asleep
and drown, choked by the weeds
the silt and stifling mud
of my own insecurities

My chest explodes with
joy and pride, that is,
if pride is the right word
for a sense of wonder
that seems to dominate
both my most quiet, dark moments
and shatteringly sunny seconds.

Staring at the blazing blue
of the morning sky, and the
counterpoint of cottony white,
I wonder why so much gas
and light somehow came
to inspire rather grand words in
an inconsiderable and small
speck of carbon such as I.

How can I explain the way
I see the space around me, that is,
Without pretense of creation
and acceptance of insignificance,
in a way that wouldn't offend
and could inspire even the most
singular minded mortal?

I am of only humble understanding
of much but was taught some words:
that any lost feeling of awe
cannot be nourishing to a
mature peace of mind, nor body,
nor soul, if you call the way
all things connect as such.

And if I had a thing
like a soul, mind,
at this moment,
it would be
soaring.

I've always been a good diver
but somehow my boundaries
took to the river
and I feel like I'm always
forcing my own way upstream

Instead of letting my dreams
float, steer and catch hold of
the things that are good for me.

Lost in the the undertoe
I begin to shiver and quake
while bits of me break off

and flake and dissolve
in the acidic oceans of inanity
that engulf us all.

So, I'm left catching hold
of pieces by each finger and toe
hoping to no one in particular
that I never let go

Control is an issue, I'm aware
that you can't hold it all
together on your own
but the current pushes on
and on and on

As I try not to fall asleep
and drown, choked by the weeds
the silt and stifling mud
of my own insecurities

Words left unsaid spoil quickly
My hands are restless, full of gestures
I had prepared and made perfect
While revealing my feelings to you

This mind bears many  fruits
I wish I could pluck them delicately
Instead of this clumsy silence
And flare-up of emotion

But I cannot seem to gather myself
Like so many silken threads
The harder I grasp, the faster they fall
All thats left is pooling in my chest

And the poetry, you say, is in my eyes

If I hadn't been there

If I had stayed home that day

If I hadn't been there

If I had just slept the day away



If I hadn't been there

You'd still be there

If I hadn't kissed you

You'd still sleep here



I believe, next to you

Is where I belong

And if I hadn't been there

You'd be here all along



Next to you I can be

Anywhere at all

You would hear my call

I'd be anyone at all



If I hadn't been there

I'd place my last bet

If I hadn't been there

We still would have met



If I wasn't there

I'd still find you

If you weren't there

You'd still be here too

Eyes sliver open languidly, feel out the corners
Stretched, palms pressed against white walls
Pull the covers high above my head
Building courage to greet the day

Lungs fill with a familiar scent
Smile, reach and caress a glowing cheek
Next to me, he turns, all elbows and sighs
Find him  in a second with tingling toes and fingertips

Untangle the limbs and sheets
Firm and nut-brown, coarse in the right places
Soft in the best places, he's flawless
Dare to disturb the rhythmic breathing


Wake up, I whisper
Coffee, he groans