i only have so many words left
and i'm tired of waiting
to say what i mean
i mean what i say
which is that i'm tired of
except where it matters more,
inside the face of the other.

and yes, i'm aware it's ridiculous of me
to think out loud
but i believe in something
and for the first time
i feel there's something to be done
and it doesn't start with big plans
to change the world
or become famous
it starts in the heart.
see i said it's ridiculous
but i believe
it's true
and when i say that
i don't take belief lightly
there are so many things
i don't believe
like the history they taught us
or religion or television or government
or the economy or the moon
or that anything anywhere is real
because everything everywhere
is more than real.

and it's not that i don't believe
in my own greatness
which is crouched
in the corner
to turn kinetic
it's that i believe in your own greatness
coming around the bend
and it's not that i don't believe in heaven
it's that i don't believe we should wait
you could call it hedging my bets.
and it's not that i've drawn a beam
on what heaven
on earth
should look like
but i certainly know
it's not what we have now
and the only way
to even make a start
at righting the ship
is to start
inside the face of the other
the waves have been saying
we are all just reconstituted water
and rock
so it's more important
for me to be happy with you
than anything in the world
i guess i mean
to make happy
and live happy
and sleep happy.

that happy is a big word in disguise.
it means being honest
and healthy and living
in peace. and those are all big words
too big to explain
but the only way to make something trendy
is to start a trend
so start one you can believe in
when you look inside me
and i'll start one to believe in
when i look inside you
because you know that i know
that you know that i know
that you know
it's all propaganda
and there's no copyright
on making a new reality
where this world is not made
of commodities
where we admit the truth about ourselves
we are all ridiculous
all the politicians
all the actors and actresses, musicians
and musicianetttes, all the plumbers and doormen
and office workers and executives
and their assistants
and the moms and the dads
all the fathers and mothers
all the teachers and carpenters
and day laborers and homeless
we are all fucking ridiculous
clowning around
and only some of us
are crazy enough to have figured this out.
it doesn't fucking matter.
stop looking in the mirror.
look at me.
let me look at you.
let's make fairy tales
real together.
you and me.
me and you.

let love win

i was thinking about how easy
it is for me to forget with you
and there is so much
i really don't need to remember
sometimes it's hard to figure
how to keep the good
and lose the bad.

then i think

it may not even be
worth the effort
when there are still oceans
to chase
and sunsets to find
in all the places
i thought were too normal
to care about anymore.
i think i could even hope
to believe again

they say begin with the little things
and it's funny
what they means is
start with yourself
and let love win.


i want to write a poem for you
and so of course my words
begin to feel
make a big jumble
and moan and all of a sudden
they are old, creaking up the stairs
muttering about crazy youth
and energy and the tonic
of a good sleep.

and now i am left alone
with you.

it is almost like
i can make a beginning of it,
let the structure unravel,
dig around in the unraveling
and it isn't hard to pretend
there still might be
firming up the chaos,
hiding in plain sight
this whole time.

the words aren't going
to let themselves go,
but i know they are just nervous.
all the things they've seen in this world
and they still can't describe

come back

come back

there were words bubbling
the edges of my mind
until i tried to write them down.
now they are gone
on an airplane no doubt
much like you
asleep on the wings of the wind
and i am at a terrible disadvantage
trying to find them when i'm wide awake
of course it's the middle of the night
and there's a convenience store
around the corner.
lots of words stocked there
just not the ones i need.
i wish you would just come back
already, and maybe bring
a couple words
with you?

maybe it's time

maybe it's time

the cigarette smoke is dancing
on the breeze
and like always
there are reminders to pay attention.
dancing doesn't appear much
in the life of this serious
adult working an adult job
and it's been a while
since since dreams about flying
with the wind
(on the wind)
came through at night.
maybe it's time to get a dog.

sometimes i think

sometimes i think
i hear your voice in the wind.
it is usually a whisper,
but i would know
that whisper anywhere,
soft and happy.
some days you are a butterfly
and if i work at it
i can keep up with your whimsy.
other days you are a hummingbird
and those days i can only watch
and only if you let me.

when you are silent i know
you're trying to think
so i settle into quiet
because my sounds only matter
when you give them to me.



i am supposed to pretend
there are many things on my mind,
important matters
critical to think about in this here moment,
and i should give these illusory things
existential significance,
allow them the proper proportions
they would acquire on a normal day
spent running through my mind
instead of you.
think of seahorses and shootings stars.
think of crooked elbows
on the definitely not tired branches of godfather
eucalyptus trees collapsing.
think of the music that makes
everything disappear
(until it stops)
except you. fuck
this will never work.

the moon is smiling

the moon is smiling
from the steps of my trailer
or is it on the steps of my trailer?
perspective is a funny thing.

i'm just glad she's happy
because i'm tense
and like her
i've been out playing
with other planets.

i can see the moon
has the right attitude.
planets come and planets go,
and nothing ever really changes.
but dancing is fun.

i like that she is dancing
with venus now
because the world does need to be reminded
to love
pretty much all the time
things really should be
more fun.

maybe it's time
to actually unwind,
join up with the dance
for an hour or ten,
become an artificial satellite
so the moon won't be lonely
on nights
the planets aren't around
to make her smile.

a poem

in the silence
it is words and not music
that comes. and so i know
i am a poet.

i am a poet
the way a clown is a juggler.
we don't have a word
for that. they don't sell.

lost cause

it is an impossible task
says the fear
like a bird outside my window
and already i know
a lost cause

could be just the thing.
(and the wind whispers)
who can tell
without trying?
and i find i can imagine
what she whispers in your ears
if you listen.

i will listen
just a little longer
in case my ears will hear
in stereo whispers
the keys to write
and the words
to swing you