Month: April 2018

Raspy

When I was younger
I was an altar server
And even a lector
But not once did I
Ever sing during Mass
Even though I had
Sung in a boy’s choir
Outside of church

When I was a little older
I decided to one day
Sing during Mass to
Impress a girl
Nothing came of that
So I realized that
Selfishness is only
Punished

Now I am much older
And besides a monthly
Offering for the
Collection basket
The best I can do
Is offer God my voice
And so I sing at every Mass
Not with the choir but
As a parishioner
Who tries his best to
Worship and praise

I can’t hit the high notes
Like when I was a boy soprano
But it’s nice to hear those
Around me try
To sing along

We have some pretty capable
Voices in the part of the church
Where I normally sit and
It actually sounds quite nice

Therapy

I stumbled along the path
Making up things as I went along
I didn’t plan to be here
But tried to make the best of it
Even though I didn’t know then
What exactly the best outcome would be
And sometimes I made a mess of it in the process

I met many people but made fewer friends
Made many mistakes as I met people
Failed to make lasting impressions on many people
Who I hoped to be friends with but never did
To this day I wonder how all the people I ever met
Are doing and hope they are well

I tried to learn something new sometimes
But finding some success most of the time
Learning only one thing at a time
And still I want to learn some more
Even if I may never grasp the ideas the way an expert does

The major goals of my life I have set aside until now
At great risk of not having any time to address somehow–
What it would be like for someone to call me dad?
The family life is a like-to-have
But from here to there
What I’ve walked so far has led to dead ends
I think I have waited too long–
My peers exchange stories of what their kids did
Or how they spent the holiday weekend with their spouses
I cannot even relate one babysitting story
Maybe I never will

And there is one more thing you asked me
How I would spend my last days?
I cling to a daydream–
I am working in an observatory
After running some numbers
I realize I’ve found a couple of new exoplanets
By then I’ll probably be a very old man
And the people I would really want to tell first
My mom and dad
Will most likely have long since passed–
I would therefore name my discoveries after them

Glasses

I can’t imagine
A time when I
Could live
Without you–
But I did
And never realized
What I was missing
Until we were
Finally together

Then I was told
I could let you go
Because I would
No longer need you
As I did before

And I believed it

Rationale

I know it’s
Just my imagination
Doing the talking
As I take the words from
My head and hope they
Gain traction on
The paper instead

There are
A lot of times
That I wished it
Wasn’t all made up
That maybe
Some of it was true enough
That I wouldn’t feel
Like a liar instead

But for some reason
It fits together better
If my writing is faux
Not genuine leather
I suppose
If it’s highly reactive
It becomes highly connective though

So I’ll spend many waking hours
Getting words to stick into something legitimately dour
Or bittersweet or wistful or maudlin
Because happy seems too easy to express
Even though I have many reasons to feel that way

Excerpts from “Read Fast…”

Me

Thousands of people buy into astrology, looking for answers to life’s most important questions: will I find my soulmate? what are the winning lottery numbers? am I going through my Saturn retrograde? But like most things in life, it’s all a sham. Just like professional wrestling. If people really found out, how would they react? Hopefully, like Jason did when he discovered his favorite professional sport was scripted, right down to the backstage interviews…

“So it’s fake. It’s still nice to look at.”

Now that I think about it, I’m not even sure we were talking about professional wrestling…

Two-Fourteen

The van driver does not want to be alone, like the old man he read about in a really long poem. That’s why he’s dressed in a decent pair of slacks, a collared shirt, and some nice shoes. That’s why his compact car is temporarily parked in a no-parking zone, blinkers flashing. That’s why he’s standing in front of the door of an apartment he’s never been to until now, carrying some flowers and a box of fat-free chocolates behind his back.

Brakeup

He hears the speech of others. How they turn ideas into words into sentences into conversations. How idle chatter becomes something even if it is really nothing at all. Talk about moving pictures on a screen becomes a precious thing when people try to fill the space between them.

Purple Unicorns Mate After Midnight

Vince stood at the front of the class and began reading. “They lied. Icarus was not about the vanity of mankind. It was about love.”

Amber sat in the back of the class. Wow, she thought. Who’s that?

Vince continued to read more from his essay. Amber leaned forward in her chair, listening intently. He’s good.

“Like a moth is attracted to a flame, Icarus was attracted to the sun,” read Vince. “We are Icarus, we who have fallen for the sun, or the object of our desire.”

Amber sighed. He’s really good.

“Like moths, like Icarus, we wish to fly close to that which we desire,” continued Vince. “That which we love.”

The bell rang, announcing the end of class.

 

Buy the book at Amazon.

Foolish

I remember what you told me then
But I still foolishly think you’ll tell me soon
That you changed your mind
One of these days
Maybe around April Fools’ Day
Maybe around your birthday
Maybe around mine
How does my heart
Find space for hope when
It’s blindly given itself to you?
I have no reasons why
You said what you said
And I guess I’m too needy
To believe the story’s come to an end
Even though we’re still practically strangers
From since we first met
And that was years ago
The paradoxes abound that can easily turn around
My feelings towards you
For we’ve shared nothing more than social media profiles
And exchanged only greetings in person
So I have no proof of reciprocal interest not even curiosity
You remain aloof from me
And still the daydreamed scenarios
Pop in and out of my awareness
Shiny distractions to a listless soul
And still many an evening
I spend trying to upend my solitude
With words meant to rhyme
Against the platitudes I’ve read
About letting go and all that
To stay silent on this seems so unfair
I’ve been quiet all my life
Could I just revel in
Another fire that dimly lights
Even if the effort would be wasted?
But I’m told I can do no more
And I shouldn’t move forward
While always looking over my shoulder
Afraid I’ll leave you behind
Because maybe you’re not even there anymore–
One of these days
Maybe around April Fools’ Day
Maybe around your birthday
Maybe around mine
I’ll be the one who’s changed his mind
And stopped being foolish for you