This is a selection of poetry that I wrote from 2002-2013, it’s in roughly chronological order.


Not one iota
of my existence will outlive
my manic matter.


Light struck the bottle,
through my window I felt it
like a thousand eyes.


It was said in bad faith
mauvaise foi as Sartre would say:
I behaved as an object.

Autumn Colors in WV

Falling now, these leaves
are soon to be memories,
embraced by the snow.


The slowly failing light
reminds me that tomorrow
will never come.


Exhaling softly
rhythm slows noticeably
my lungs are vacant.


Boats can float in it,
but they can sink just as well,
water and wine.


Lacking in nothing,
empty cask, empty eyes,
night of abundance.


Anytime you see a female in a family tree
it means the end of a line
as if they couldn’t climb
to reach the next branch
under a glass ceiling
giving up
everything and their name.


I barely knew you
and still, I can’t let you go
not now, not ever.


Still hoping, dreaming,
that you’re somewhere out there
waiting to be found.


Knowing she is gone,
won’t erase her from my mind
or so I am told.


I go, she stays on
only the rain continues
without her sad eyes.


Still writing the wills
of days gone by,
I will be forgotten.


Your eyes caress me into this
coma, you won’t be forgotten,
wherever I’m left.


I cry out for her
leaving she ignores my call
alone again now.

Sunset Over Forrest

Shining eyes mask the night sky,
their beauty won’t be forgotten,
filling my days and dreams.


Days gone by,
the wills won’t be written,
again I say.


I long for her touch
distant and cold as marble
as I once felt it.


I faintly feel your eyes
caressing my cold skin
deeper into this darkness.


Although you are gone
forever it seems, this day
will be born anew.


Thinking about hope…
and all the times I denied
my own existence.


Although my body
has no permanence here
my actions still have meaning.


I remember the
objects concreteness never
once did I question.


Fourth of July five years past my time:
distant memories of parading down Mount Trashmore
absorbed in a dense crowd
lost in the absence of light
this place belongs to me alone now
how could I expect someone to be here
in this sliver of darkness now absorbed in memory
I could wait forever for someone to find me
lost in the crowd unknowing, unfeeling
what’s real now
is only this place lost, in my mind,
my memory fading
now placing these thoughts on paper for others to find
unknowing eyes scan but can’t know and feel what’s real to me
knowing no other could see this moment in time
that means more to me than anyone or anything
I close my eyes and feel the hearts beating alone in the darkness.


So much to say, but
how to say it. Words fail me
when her eyes appear.


In her eyes I saw
an entire life that I will
never, ever know.

Poetry Can be a Palette or a Paintbrush

Poetry can be a palette or a paintbrush
showing emotions unmoving
or evoking apperceptions unbeknownst to the author.


Enamored with her
and her every movement
brings light to my life.


Lifetimes away I
remember her face and name
beautiful and blameless.

Snow Falling Softly in Foggy Forest

Problems multiply
in mind as seasons divide
what remains of me.


Evidently she
sees something in me others
aren’t able to see.


She walks in beauty
and grace divine, timeless I
find time to think of us.


Her beauty calls for
words beyond my years, imperfect
I sigh and wonder.


Now ashamed to say
I felt that way for a moment
that seemed a lifetime.


Hard to match with words
what I feel, when I feel it
so I don’t say it.


Life goes in circles
that provide me with a chance
to complete the cycle.


Midsummer’s bloom brings
light to my life, reason for
my very being.


Ashes to ashes
God to dust, lanterns hung up
high in the heavens.


I’d say that you broke
my heart, but I know that I
broke my own from the start.


Unrequited I
find grace divine, timeless I
take time to wonder why.


Unreturned calls make
me long for a deeper sleep
than I could ponder.


No emotion in
my world only a distance
that grows with the cold.


Morning wood makes me
long for the arms which once held
me in cold comfort.


Half my life has come
and gone through my fingertips
like melting snow.


I’ll sleep though the rest
of my days and dreams incomplete
and devoid of reason.


All of my life I’ve
met many kind souls, but they
always leave with the cold.


I stayed awake every night,
afraid part of me wouldn’t
ever come back again.


Poetry comes from
pain and unexplainable
instances that transcend.


I watched the time
slip slowly down the blank face of the clock
twisting and turning in it’s ineptitude
hands nearly melting in the humidity
roman numerals weeping rivers of ink onto ivory
large or small waves appear and disappear
but the ocean is what it is.


One Eve short of Eden
I’ve forsaken the fruit for
the sake of it.


I bleed emotion
when I allow my wounds to
open like orchids.

Sometimes poetry happens on it's own

To my grandparents:
known only by memory
some fences link lives.


He crafted the fence
with his bare hands, unknowingly
that fence brought forth me.


Oma’s steel blue eyes
reflected bodies of water
long lost to the field.



When you’re a lonely
guy you find time to tie ties
with only one in mind.


Soulless but sincere,
I comment the weather then
find she’s already gone.


With knowledge comes separation:
people, places, and minds are
destined to be divided.

Cassandra Complex

Happiness begins
with a decision and ends
in the hands of friends.


Rejected, god-like
and reflecting the midnight:
the lost satellite.


Waking to dream, I’m
waiting to lash out and fade
into eternal night.


Awake or asleep:
I’d rather be nowhere than
anywhere in between.

Memories of a time Misplaced

Memories of a time Misplaced
I thought it odd
how I’d turned away
from the little country graveyard
sad to see my fate in their fate in that place
my melancholy, hollow eyes blue and blind to the beauty
inherent in the fortune I found in finding fleeting, sacred obelisks
weathered monuments sighing in the sands of time unknowing, unfeeling.


I carry this curse
everywhere that I go–


I stared off as if
into the distance– but my
muse has forsaken me.


I wake up every morning
with a ghost between by arms
I start each day alone, not knowing she is gone
wind against my window, curtains long-since torn
my heart breaks anew with the failing dark of dawn.


“I wish I took you to the prom”
Years too late I think
of an appropriate response–
awkward encounter.


Bruised and bleeding palms,
lift weights until you smell iron
on your skin and breath.


Clinging to the past,
I find reason for being,
pure-hearted I go forth.

As Above, So Below

The sky looks forlorn,
forsaking me of my form,
formless ray of light.


Seeing ghosts again
but I guess I deserve these
visions from my past.


Regrets! Waking me
like a night terror again,
after all these years.


Although I will miss
your shining eyes and smile the
moon waits for no man.


Closed my eyes only for a moment
to awaken to memories of time well spent
thoughts well thought and words well spoke.


I heard my father’s footsteps at 2AM
while other men were sleeping
I held onto the moment
until I could no longer and drifted into dreaming
unremembered shapes and sounds uncolored
lit my eyelids
as I shook in the cold comfort of my salty sheets
I heard my father snoring when I woke
and pondered the uncertainty of my situation
staring at the ceiling
I thought of things I should do
as my eyes shut slowly
time crept by
I heard my father snoring as the sun sets on my uncertainty.


Lying in bed, I
compose only to forget:
autumn melodies.


Last leaf of autumn
you cling like a memory
to a tree now void.


Five – seven – five, I
too turn to the west, haiku
in heart and in hand.

Cherry Tree

Calm blue sky reflects
the regret of eyes unscathed
by cold and longing.


I know this feeling
is temporary, like the
first snow of the year.


I will cherish this
moment of calm concession
while I’m still able.


Christmas Eve, five years past my time
outside a freezing rain
inside a cold, percussive ceiling
provides rhythm to my dreaming
sleepless dawning dreams uncover
parts of me I’d rather not see
so I close my eyes to the outside
and just be
quietly, calmly be
outside your perception developing
like a Polaroid devoid of pigment
I am uninterpretable and forgotten
at my last mention.


Christmas five years passed my time
dinner conversations couldn’t have been stranger
without me observing.


Last white lotus leaves
like pearl tear drops on the soil
fade before the frost.


Years apart, my failures
weigh heavily upon my host
not wanting to burden you …


Like all things, this house
will soon be a memory
sinking in the sand.


instances and emotions
now undiscovered.

Sun Slipping Between Trees in Forest

I watch the sun slip
between the trees one last time
before I move on.


Fewer words appear
on these pages as days and
dreams go by and by.


Unable to feel the passage of time
these mute memories still plague me
silent symphonies emerge from a shapeless place
that is no more real than the things I’m seeing through my weary windows
which are worn from reflecting the interests of others.


Many years have lost
many poets and poems
found only alone.


In the past I was ungrateful
for this moment I’ll be thankful
for what is and what could be.


I didn’t go through
all that pain just to die again:
I let go lightly.

Death comes for all men
the peasant and the pauper
share only one fate.


I’ll always be an addict, bad dreams and worse habits
depressive mannequin brought down to the gutters:
the precious connection which collects the fallen stars
beneath the surface rivers of lies and lives run dry
so I look to the sky
manic and unprepared for the starry feast for my eyes
where spry spires pierce the darkness
and a church’s steeple stands high over the horizon, homes, and people.


Gutters are where Earth
and sky collide, leaving little
but memories behind.


Memory or mind
they both come in time, to waste
either is a sin.


Hayrides haunted by
ghosts of cousins and another:
nameless, undaunted.


Autumn’s golden glow fell before the fall of the first snow
trees now barren of memory
form distant patterns of paisley on this gray granite floor
I’ve become bleak and shapeless after making this promise
to the night, and myself, forever more.


Time can be measured in minutes or miles
the distance between two hands
grows greater as we approach infinity.


The road winds again
white knuckle grip on the wheel
the curve is all I feel.


Moonlight reflected
off the snow makes me long for
the cold that once held me.


Out of sight never
out of mind I swear by my
sight not to be found.


Where did the time go,
autumn’s light and leaves left me
feeling incomplete.


There was an unspoken acknowledgment of death as I floated weightless
flotsam and fragmented memories flowing beneath me
sky above a cloudless and unyielding blue.


The blue unyielding sky
rinses years of regret and sorrow
from my weary sapphire windows.

Meandering Creek

Unable to stay
I leave behind these words for
some eyes to find.


Like all great friendships
this one ends with me puzzled:
I did something wrong?


I smile to myself
because it’s all there is
and all there could be.


Me in a minute
might not like my decisions
my system prevents this.


Comas are colder
still than this type of being:
not even being.


I’m still pretty cold,
an emotional time-bomb
waiting to explode.


Lifting weights, I keep
composure, stillness of the
mind is most important.


Memories, like all
things fade with age: forgotten
panacea pleads.


sorrow tugs at my heart strings
like a puppeteer.


Cigarettes taught me
that two ends are always one end
too many to burn.
New Years Snow at WV

Snow falls softly for
the seventh day, I sit and
wonder what happened.


Things aren’t as simple
as they may appear to be
living here and now.


Hedonic treadmill
leaves me without memory
but pictures remain.


At least I can laugh
if nothing else, I can still
take pleasure in being.


Five years later
I watched the crimson leaves fade and fall
an autumn reminder of the life remaining
here with me without consolation
the snow is still falling before dark eyes
far from fleeting intellectuals you’ll find me
my dreams still unseen.


Memories don’t fade
they fall or stand strong for a
lifetime or longer.


mental image I let fade
once and for all.


Watching my mind move
thoughts pass like wind-swept snowflakes
I let go lightly.

Creek Emerging from Darkness

The closer I get
to death in days the further
I feel from myself.


Anything but the
present is an abstraction
unbeknownst to me.


Shitty end to a
shitty day that I hated
to see begin.


People are too cold
and illogical for me
to comprehend.


Show me what you have
learned over the years without
word or ears to hear.


God has a sick mind,
it’s sad and repetitive:
existential pain.


I wake up and dream
of a despondence that grows with
being incomplete.


I was a highly
sensitive child, scarred and carved
startled then starved.

Ghosts in the Mist

Pictures and patterns
unknown to their creator,
below the surface.


Everyday ends
just like it begins, without
purpose to go on.


I tried to hold her
in my mind’s eye for a moment
but it was hopeless.


Distrait and dismayed
faded from the way I’ve came
to conclude this day.


Now that false friendships
have dissolved, nothing stands in
the way of meaning.

Twin Falls

This moment will not
meet me twice, you and I
we’re no different.


Misanthropic me
always a step away from
where I should hope to be.


Unprepared manic
dazed and dreamless I make the
same mistake again.


I manipulate
my manic state to keep free
from hate or disdain.


How I long for a
short night to wake me from this
waking dream I see.

The distance between us

I take the distance
between us personally
only way to take it.


I let it go one last time
from the highest branch.


Probably broken
a rule or two as I pass
time wrapped in my mind.


Strange times, stranger times
are coming soon by the light
of the new year’s moon.


I conducted the same strength
regimen again.


Seven days away
should give me reason to stay
closer than I am.


Haunted by the souls
of long ago, I stare off
and eavesdrop.


Nights of nightmares leave
me needing to quell or feed
despondent demons.


I’ve never felt more
alive or alone, one thing
leads to another.


Without words you want
your work to speak at great lengths
about your subject.


Stuck in the moment,
each step is a death for me,
life is but a waking dream.

Hidden Spring

With every breath
I become more human, my eyes
find new beauty in being.


Ultimately I
end up here again, with a
loss of consciousness.


I’ve always been my
only friend, lonely again
tired of this trend.

Lifetimes Away

Lifetimes away I
recall every moment
alone and realize.


Only emotion
can bridge the distance between
days and dreams.


Memento Mori:
Time has lost it’s faith in me
. . .


Outside the snow falls softly,
inside I yearn for the simple
sorrows of yesterday.

Snowy Path Looking Back

We capture insects
under glass as reminders
of our position.


My melancholy
mistress moves me one measure
closer to myself.


The shadow of God
projected in this dark cave
for their eyes to see.


Heart skips a beat, I
smile to myself because it’s


The fall of Autumn’s
light and leaves left me feeling
dour and incomplete.


Neither here nor there
someone who should not have been
I will always be.


The beauty and woe
of life is unbearable–
sleep is without words.

Darkness and Light

Sitting still I feel
the sorrows of the world have
become too great for me.


This cursed life has brought nothing but grief
countless painful moments
make me long for sleep.


Time has lost meaning
seconds pass unaware of
their dissolution.


Sitting in this room
nothing has changed for certain
while leaves fall and fade.

Water Flowing Down Rocks in Creek

Laissé Allez
Learning to let go
can be the most difficult
aspect of living.


Autumnal orchids
remind me of the beauty
blooming around me.


I found a perfect
gift for her, three weeks away
she’s gone– what’s this for?


It’s been many moons
since my eyes last set on you–
glowing metronome.

Shadow Grove

Gifts come and gifts go–
the acorn and the oak tree
share the same shadow.


I know how you feel,
though I don’t know what to say
all we have leaves in a day.

One Comment

  1. “Screech Owl”
    Hidden wood spirit,
    Tiny ghosts on silent wings,
    Keeper of wisdom.

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