01.01.09 (day 22)

they are the only
people on this earth
who could make me
take a trip through the bible
via christmas light display,
turn my knees into ponies
willing to carry the weight of two children,
and put down a mimosa to play tag in a good friend’s living room.
i never thought much of small people
who shit on themselves
and can’t tell me what’s wrong when they cry,
but now i see what i’ve been missing.

12.31.08 (day 21)

inside the house
they kept thirty years
worth of history.
it wasn’t under
lock and key,
but hidden carefully
in the folds of blankets,
and standing quietly behind
cabinet doors.
it was in the cracks
between oak slats
on a hard wood floor
that has never been softer,
and thus,
never louder.
each creak is the sound of past indiscretions,
the path worn
by feet
stumbling toward rebellion.

12.30.08 (day 20)

glasses of wine
and gramercy park
remind me of five years ago
and my brother.

i wish he were here now.

12.29.08 (day 19)

i returned home
on the kind of sunny afternoon
that makes me want to roam
brooklyn streets
and write poems
in my head
so i can forget them
in the joy of each moment.

12.28.08 (day 18)

she thought
doing lines was easier
than writing them.
didn’t see the difference
between
spilling secrets on mirrors
or stages.

12.27.08 (day 17)

tired of writing poems
but need to reach a goal.
there are crumbs on the floor,
the weather is too hot,
and cincinnati is no different.

12.26.08 (day 16)

a haiku
hey would you believe
noah friday night southgate house
nothing more i want