New Poems! (Pt III)

The Mechanics of Handstands

The impulse today is to walk

the block and a half from my house

to the southside of Colonial Lake

and do handstands.

Handstands, to be done properly,

require a few moments of quiet contemplation

before they are begun. Do this

on a sun-drowned green bench, shirtless,

sweating.

It is so loud here.

Left ear:

a lawn mower and a backpack-mounted leaf blower and a family playing and a game of tennis and a girl talking to her puppy.

Right ear:

birds.

The loud is good. It lets you center,

whines and cycles together through you,

drowns everything but the mechanics of handstands.

For the moment it is enough to bake under the sun. Let

sweat fill every inch of clothing, run over your face

and bare chest, all of it irritating, all of it alive.

When you have had enough of looking at the sky and the large military cargo airplanes screaming over the city, stand up.

Take off your shoes,

Empty pockets.

Stand barefoot in the soft summer grass,

bend at the waist to fill your fingers with the ground. This is the proper handstand position,

ready.

Breathe, and in a rush kick your legs up and catch your face as it falls forward. Flex your arms and tighten stomach and stretch up.

Breathe and wait for the sky to come down and be your new floor.

Stay this way

as long as you can.

New Poems! (Pt II)

The Price of Honesty

There are days when everything

you've done wrong stands up to you in blazing

neon, impossible to ignore

and you're never in the right.

There are days when a cloud

looks like a slap in the face

and the wind is the only thing

keeping you upright. There are

the days when everything which surrounds

you is so beautiful that the only

thing you can think is

"I'll never be able to write that."

There are more of those days

than there are of the ones where

you're centered and quiet and happy,

and the days when you're truly enjoying life

are always bracketed by the ones where

you want nothing more than to torch

every bridge and move West,

to leave all of the bullshit behind.

It's impossible to pretend everything

is great with yourself when you

know it isn't true.

It's the price of honesty.

If you are awakened to an idea, share it.

If you want to learn about someone, ask them.

If you want to love someone, love them.

If you want to accept someone’s love, accept it –

but never do it falsely. Someone else

will appreciate what you do not.

If everything hurts, give it time.

If nothing hurts, and you’re happy

in your tiny space, break your bubble.

If you know what’s going on,

and you’re happy, enjoy it –

time will not give you many moments.

New Poems! (Pt I)

You Ask How I Know I Still Love You

I know because I went out to buy dinner today,

a sandwich from the place on Bull -

I was walking back and was struck by how silent

the street was. Green spilled

over the fences, building a canopy

stirred by the warm breeze. It smelled

like Jasmine and the sea and all I could think

was that I wanted to tell you about it.

I wanted to call you to fill the space between us

with my words, impress my little bit of the world

into your mind.

I’d start by describing the light. You always were a part of it,

and the light in this moment was made for you.

It was warm and felt like home.

I was sad to feel the green heat on my skin

from the canopy and the wind off the sea,

sad to breathe that air because all of it felt like you.

And when I breathed it back out it would be me.

Just me, standing under the green summer light,

with the empty space at my side that is always there.