poems

for noonan

of course my life is a poem, he said, spoken word, set to heavy metal riffs and a nyabinghi rhythm. full of thunder and bullshit and long sunsets by the sea. and, like the best poems, a sharp, sudden ending.

in the places that we aren’t

there’s a song, sometimes, in the places that we aren’t; there’s a scream there’s a sigh there’s a smile. there’s the earth, sometimes in the places that we aren’t; there’s the sky there’s the wind there’s the tide. in the places that we aren’t, you and i.  

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