Saturday, December 8, 2012


The common domestic pair,
Measured in units of misery,
Not happiness, not love.
The heaviest moments tip the scales,
And all the airy, ethereal ecstasy
Cannot be the ballast
That brings us back together
In the face of such despair.
It fills a room like humidity,
So dense the doors stick
In their swollen jambs
And make slamming less of a period,
More of an ellipsis,
So that we somehow manage the building up
And cannot fathom the breaking apart
When all that weight, that dense element
Falls around us,
Shaking our foundation.

Tuesday, April 17, 2012

It's much easier to share

  • It's much easier to share
    Sadness on common shoulders,
    To settle tragic memory
    Like incense in a room,
    Than the perfume
    That is Joy.

    That pleasant, fresh-baked
    Happiness is less,
    Just less, and distress
    Is such sweet punch to swallow.

    I should have sensed
    The heady lingering scent
    Is too great, that its
  • Pesky presence seems a slight.
  • It's not. It assists as it stings
  • To smooth the lines
  • Binding two distinct times,
  • Soothes as it bites.