For Nicky

Few remember me, who I was before.
Who I am now, none can perceive.
I’m gone, who will they eulogize?

Will it be the paraplegic body
that groaned to move
that groaned to speak
that groaned.

Or will it be the humanity that existed
before the fall,
before the numbing perpetual paralysis
found finality.

When I was a babe,
I moved and climbed,
people said I was exceptional.

When I was a child,
people were less impressed,
my exceptions became normal.

When I reached adulthood
I had already expired.
All my achievements undone by time.

And now in my coffin,
I lie still, as I lived
But my soul,
my full living, breathing soul
won’t succumb to silence

I lived as strong as I died
and now lying motionless
freedom enters me
as a breath enters the lungs.

inhalation, exhalation,
remembered, forgotten,
I live.



Vixen’s vile veins,
fixated, famous feelings,
sorrowful, somber, superficial
mirrored manic mirages.

Time presses on,
brave, blissful blood-born,
cursed choirs calm
best, buried beneath
sediment, soil, sod


Gray stone is my only companion,
he rises and rises,
my eyes don’t stretch so far as he.
Low light passes through my one window,

through to gray clouds that never break.
Cold days without end, there are no seasons here.
Once, I kept a calendar, eons ago,
on a narrow wall it resides.

I eat nothing, drink nothing, no emotions.
The power of this place is the relentless routine,
a routine of nothing,
a routine without an ending.

Hope, I have forgotten the meaning of the word.
Family, I cannot recall who they were or how I know them.
Desire, I close my eyes to sleep and have yet to succeed.
Alice, a woman I loved long ago, the only part of my previous life unforgotten.

Endless affliction in this isolation,
I’d kill myself if I hadn’t already once before.
My mind is withered and these are my final words,
no more will I speak or think. I’m embracing silence.

All These Laurels

In dreams, air doesn’t move over my face,
a calm sea chaps my clammy lips.
Lips who once drank,
the whole world dry.

Their thirst still unquenched, and I press on.
Deep down to the bottom of the ocean,
I drink until I can’t say a moment longer,
crests of waves wait for me.

The staleness of my one man parade,
alone and unaware of dangers to come,
I’ll drink heavy, the prescription for such diagnoses.
I awaken to a weary morning,

My shadow has grown weary of me,
chained to a fool. We drag our feet,
though the world does not.
Light gleams, I don’t mind it much.

It’s Sweltering In Here

I can’t stand it,
the incessant gnawing of my brain,
from the moment my eyes glaze open,
until I close them, and they are shut tight

a pitter patter of feet can be heard rushing,
racing to where I mustn’t stay
a place where I am not free.
I’m drawn here, night after day.

Engage me darkness, embrace me death,
I hug them both, old friends,
at all times their shadow hovers near
sitting, patient, allowing my indulgences.

They send my torrid body
rather, I plunge it into their depths.
It’s a leisurely motion, one in which I don’t move.
Giddy, they seize their opportune moment.

A time when cold winds blow over my skin,
and my thick layers don’t insulate my warmth,
A proverbial cross to bear that I continually carry.
Returning nightmares, please step forward.

The Costume

Clarence found an old refrigerator cardboard box
behind a home improvement store
it was sturdy, still in tact.

He took it home and began painting, it looked like a building
one that soars high above a city,
he reveled in inspiration.

It came together quickly, a picture of rectangular lights
intermingled with ominous columns
and crossing horizontal lines.

He used a box cutter to make holes, one on the top
two on the sides and two on the bottom,
it was a wonderful costume.

Clarence climbed in and noticed how much taller he was
standing straight, no longer would he have to strain
for her attention.

This Halloween she would not ignore him when he arrived.
Lines that covered his costume provided him a dignified
air, he was normally without.

Clarence, alone, rode the elevator to a roof top party he had been invited to,
really it was a work party and everyone was invited,
but it didn’t matter, this was the moment, he would stand out among the rest.

He saw a hundred pale faces when those elevator doors glean open.
All wearing cardboard boxes, all painted with rectangular lights
intermingled with ominous columns and horizontal lines.

Clarence stumbled through the crowd, bumping into skyscraper
after skyscraper, and the girl he had come to see didn’t notice his dignified air,
the moment he envisioned had stumbled off the rooftop.

Soon he too was falling. Street lights once faint, grew brighter.
As air rushed over his face, he became
fearful he had been rash.

The Navigator

A stormy haze covers my face
I stumble through streets
Not drunk but another drink would do me in

the world is still, no wind blows,
my mouth is parched, my eyes colorblind,
our pictures are gray and blurry

the cameraman moved his hand
or we were moving then,
more than now, more today than tomorrow.

i swallowed your words and kept them in my head,
i vomited my words everywhere to everyone,
hoping that i might begin to believe them.

even now I’m undecided, unsure,
I’ll love you always and your blinding light,
but it will be my fault. It was from the beginning.

Now nights spent sleepless, aching for sleep,
left with ambiguous emotions for me to navigate,
not suicidal but another word could do me in.