Sing Myself

All my life
you taught me
how to
celebrate you

when all along
it was your job
to teach me how
to celebrate myself.

You did a
better job
than you would
ever admit to

because it’s easier
for you to assume
I still don’t
do enough.

And while everything
frustrates me
it’s that more than
anything else.

You taught me
how to be you
all over again

when you should have
been teaching me
it was ok
to be me.
I celebrate myself, and sing myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me
as good belongs to you.



Someone needs
to kiss me


it might as well
be you.

The sunlight claps the earth, and the moonbeams kiss the sea: what are all these kissings worth, if thou kiss not me? – Percy Bysshe Shelley

Quote of the Day which inspired the above.



You act like
it’s my fault
but I don’t
have a choice.

Maybe don’t
look at me
like that
next time.

I only walk
through the
doors you
hold open.
And thank god for you.


Our Place Apart (Alive)

We ran out of things to run out of talking about, here, in the sitting room in my mind. It’s never been brighter, the windows shined to perfection and the sun streaming in, and we’ve even taken to propping the doors open every once in awhile. And the fire burns.

“Did you know this?” I say, and you reply, “I do.”
“But, do you know that?” I ask, and you say, “I do.”
“Did you really mean that?” you say, and I do.
“Do you understand?” you ask, and I do.

Not too much more makes sense than ever had before, but we seem to mind it less. And then there are other things, the clarity of which has nearly knocked me off the couch a few times, that I won’t ever be able to unsee again.

It’s time to rearrange the furniture. I need to make more room for you.

I have my moments, you know, where I sometimes forget there was ever a time you weren’t sitting here staring into the fire, where I could watch it bounce across your face and reflect in your eyes. I’m so happy that I am, even momentarily, able to forget the whole place ablaze, or locking away the rubble, or scurrying past this room in a hurry looking at anywhere else. But I still have moments, however fleeting, where I wonder if this remodeled sitting room is just a house of cards, and it’s all going to come falling down around me.

It’s a precarious but important state to live in. It’s a warm and comforting room for the time being. The light you bring to this place has never be so consistent, so warm, so easy to fall into. And I think, in your own way, you might be teaching me how to do it, too.


Happy Birthday Anyway

She called me
on Sunday morning
to catch up
while I walked home.

She asked me
about my
brother’s birthday
which just
happens to be
the same day as
the old man’s.

“Ja, Misi
sleeping now,”
she said,
and I could
just see the
on her face.

Ja, Misi
sleeping now.
Happy birthday
anyway, old man.


The Work

All I can do
is the work.

It’s always been
about power.

Who has it
and who
takes it and
whether or
not you can
get it back.

If I give
you power,
I still have

It’s supposed
to be a gift.
It’s not supposed
to be a weapon.

I’ve had
my power
against me
for too
long now.

I want it back.
All I can do
is the work.