30 in 30 2016: #27 Learning the difference between bravery and recklessness #28 Remembering to love myself gets harder with old age.

#27 Learning the difference between bravery and recklessness

At the intersection of Bravery, Reckless, and Foolish, 

I’m standing on the corner waiting for my ride outta here. 

I’m not sure which direction it’s coming from 

or which direction I expect it’ll be leaving. 

They all look the same from this corner. 

Dark streets with foggy far ends. 

It always takes a long time to get here, 

but I always come crawling back to this spot. 

Most of my life was launched from here, 

though I’m not sure where any of it got to. 

I know I should learn my way out of here; 

which streets take me the safest way home the quickest 

and which aren’t headed anywhere I need to be. 

They are one way streets spilling out away from me. 

I can’t remember the last time I arrived, 

but I know I haven’t left yet. 

My ride isn’t showing up, 

so I know my chances at an easy way out 

are growing slimmer the longer I wait. 

I’ll try to fit as much deep breath into my lungs as I can in one shot, 

before closing my eyes and stepping off the curb searching for a soft landing.

_______________________________________

#28 Remembering to love myself gets harder with old age

Object permanence destroyed my hopes

of becoming a rock star superhero. 

Running through stubbed toes and scraped knees, 

forever was a distant dream of a new world 

where summer stretched there and back 

and school was closed the entire time. 

I could dream into that ocean of possibility 

without ever having to know how shallow it was. 

When the world stopped seeing 

“I didn’t know any better” as cute 

I realized how far forever 

wasn’t going to stretch for me. 

Forever became a reflection of whatever

I couldn’t change about myself. 

The parts of me that I see every day 

are still there and still what I saw yesterday. 

There are so many things that 

I just didn’t have time to rescue from themselves. 

I find new ways to live the life I’ve lead 

every time I reflect on the things I couldn’t save. 

The time it takes to sort out what can be fixed 

and what I’m stuck with 

is a more daunting task than I can confront. 

But looking into the mirror, 

I remind myself that this is not forever 

and things can always change, 

even if I forget how they do.

30 in 30 2016: #26 Forgetting how to word

Forgetting how to word

Forgetting where I was
on my path to becoming great.

There are answers hiding
somewhere behind the blink
of the screen’s cursor.

It blinks, oblivious to how to help me
to even begin to look for them.

I’ve forgotten how to pull
the words out of blank space
and make them it to the end.

This happens every time
I stop to look around for
more than a moment.

If I keep my head down too long,
I can’t recognize where I am
when I start to pay attention to my surroundings.

This doesn’t have to be
a conclusion to anything I’ve done before.

Remind myself that being “okay”
is better than having nothing.

30 in 30 2016: #23 She’s got the nicest biggest pair of...eyes I’ve ever seen. #24 I regret the things I’ll never change #25 Making Breakfast the Eye of our Morning Hurricane

#23 She’s got the nicest biggest pair of...eyes I’ve ever seen. 

My eyes trace over her outline
and settle near her top.
She’s got the nicest biggest pair
of...eyes I’ve ever seen.

I’m talking cartoon character big.
Big like two moon cookies
blinking from the center
of two bowls of cream

They open up just before a smile
to let her light out and squint to hide it
just as her laughing lips peel back
to announce her intent on being joyful.

It’s a sea of crystalline amber
swirled into infinite possibility.
I can recognize my future
in the light that catches in their corners.

I feel small swimming inside them.
I look as far into them as I can,
wondering if there is a bottom,
hoping to never find it.

________________________________

# 24 I regret the things I’ll never change

I’ll never be able to change people’s minds 

about California Pizza Kitchen. 

It’s not pizza 

and it’s not a kitchen, 

and it’s not exclusive to California. 

Everything about the name 

is a lie 

and no one cares.

I’ll never be able to change the mindset 

of the person taking 20 items 

to the 10 items or less aisle 

and thinks putting a divider 

between the first 10 

and the second 10 

makes their fooling no one trick okay. 

No one thinks it’s cute 

and we’re all in a rush

I’ll never know how to explain to drivers 

that someone on a bike 

should not be a threat 

to you or your car. 

Driving aggressively around 

them just makes you 

look like an asshole. 

I’ll never have the time to go back and fix all the untapped potential

that got paved over 

by the bills of survival’s necessity. 

It’s too late 

to dig it all up again, 

but at least it’s a solid foundation 

to build on top of.

I’ll never change my later rather than sooner mentality 

that has made procrastination 

the cornerstone of most 

of my loudest self-doubts. 

There’s a world of difference 

between said and done.

_____________________

#25 Making Breakfast the Eye of our Morning Hurricane

The screeching halt to sleep broken by a persistent alarm clock 

that races roosters for the first noise of the day. 

Signalling the countdown has started and there is no avoiding it. 

The light in the bathroom is louder than trumpets, 

as the pieces that make up my whole wake slowly. 

The coffee is always a little different each morning. 

What am I gonna where? I still need to shower. 

I still need to take a shower before the neighbors wake up 

to steal whatever is left of the hot water. 

Do I have matching socks? I need to do laundry. 

I need to find time for laundry in my evenings. 

Maybe I can move my relaxing to the weekends, 

squeeze that in between the errands and feeling like a person. 

Halfway through the countdown and I feel like I’ve gotten nothing done.

Then we share breakfast, 

and listen to the quiet, 

and hold each other’s attention 

with stolen glances 

and reminders that at the end of the day 

we will be waiting for each other 

with a whole day of life to share. 

I reach across the table 

to squeeze her hand 

and share our body’s warmth 

with each other over a sigh. 

The last bite takes the longest to chew.

The countdown is nearing the end. I’ve still gotta pack my lunch,

digest my breakfast, brush my teeth, ready my backpack, 

check the air in my tires, check the weather, check the traffic, 

check the windows again and make sure they are shut. 

Did I lock all the windows? I don’t want to close them too early, 

or it will get stuffy in here before I leave, then I’ll sweat, 

then I’ll get anxious and wonder if I am actually ready or I need change. 

Will the traffic be too much today? The sound of cars going by reminds me

of what I’m up against. 

My morning is already over. 

I forgot to pay attention to it again.

30 in 30 2016: #22 When the world ends I’ll be able to afford…

When the world ends I’ll be able to afford…

When the population dwindles
due to a lack, or abundance,
none of us were prepared for,
the governments of the world will
lose track of their borders
and collapse in on themselves.

I’m just waiting for the day
when society gives up on staying together,
we all break up with our world
and start seeing others.
That’s the day I can take my pick
of all the gris grises that are
priced out of my reach.

Those big houses with the beautiful views,
heating bill troubles, and property tax hate mail.
I’ll have my pick every night
cause no one is left to do a credit check
and tell me the arbitrary # they assigned me
isn’t the arbitrary # they would have liked to see.

I’ll have whatever combustion beast I want,
or take my time to get places without one.
My wardrobe will go unnoticed,
regardless of how impeccable it may become
when money is no longer involved in the cost.

The me first and the gimme gimme generation
has refused to give up their hold on
the world they are passing to their children.
They’ll hand us the keys to the place
from their cold dead hands,
with minimal prying and coaxing from their children.

30 in 30 2016: #21 Shoplifting for better ideas

Shoplifting for better ideas

To a rebellious youth with no money and even less pocket change,
retail store’s with “no chase” policies were like a warm hug.

The places where the best ideas are kept,
are right under the noses of the people that pieced them together.
These don’t fit in my hands well.
They are awkward to hold and beautiful to look at,
but work much better
if you know how they were put together.

So I waste my time with the bad ideas
that don’t really look like they’ll go very far unless
I really carry them.
That sorta clever foresight never
stopped me from making mistakes though.

The trick is to find the best place you to hide
when you take what you want before you lift it from the shelf.
If you can take it and keep it on yourself long enough,
you should be able to walk out
like it was yours the whole time.

The bad ideas are the easiest ones to lift.
No one ever thought to keep them safe from being stolen.
They would collect dust on the shelves,
if they weren’t always such shiny targets
in the obscured corners of the store.

Sometimes you end up
making eye contact you didn’t want to
while you’re carrying your bad idea.
Arguing with yourself whether it’s cause
they know you have it
or if you’re just putting off the air of the guilty.

Like big bright warning signs
telling you not to,
you see the bad idea from a mile away.
By the time you’ve steered toward
your straight shot to the exit,
it’s already too late to put the bad idea back on the shelf
for the next sticky fingered idea stealer to regret.

30 in 30 2016: #20 Confrontations I’ve avoided

Confrontations I’ve avoided

Dodging the responsibility of my own beliefs.
There is no point in arguing,
because you’ve already made up your mind
and I’m too tired to explain.

Some of them matter less than others.
No, of course I don’t mind.
Leave that anywhere you want,
and obviously not in the place it is meant to go.

Moments I find my narcissistic self interest gets pushed down by common courtesy.
Sure, you can absolutely have the last cookie,
I wasn’t really interested in finishing
the whole box I bought by myself.

Denying all the obvious facts in front of me.
Obviously I wasn’t planning on enjoying
my lunch alone so I could get some work done
that’s why I shut the door,
come on in and have a seat.

There have been the big ones that I gave up on because I didn’t know what else to do.
Your plan sounds...great...I hope it works out for you, I really do.

Replaying everything when I’ve managed to find some time alone and think of just what I should have said and what I should have done.
FINE! I didn’t really want you to stay anyway,
you were cramping my style.

More forfeits than I care to count, came at the hands of the shyness that grips my better judgement.
I’ll just give myself 5 more minutes,
my work can wait until after this is done.
Just 5 more minutes.

Sometimes the path of least resistance is the only way out I can see.
It’s just easier this way if we never say anything,
just pull away slowly,
we can still see each other in the hindsight.

30 in 30 2016: #19 I am the universe’s knowledge of itself/Is this it?

I am the universe’s knowledge of itself/Is this it?

At some point in the journey of the universe's cosmic cloud,
it wanted to experience life as me.

I am not sure why, but the universe wanted
to know what it was like
to eat a bowl of cereal
with questionably fresh milk
then spend the night in a cold sweat
spewing your regret from both ends of my body.

It wanted to know what it’d be like
to experience feet that were too big for
the lanky limbs they were stuck to.

It knows it has an inexplicable and unfading love of
peanut butter and jelly sandwiches on generic store brand bread.

It wanted to know the easiest way
to fall in love so it decided to make it
hard not to get lost in the process.

It wanted to know just how much
coffee it takes to keep a person awake
after years of bad sleep
and at exactly what point does the caffeine
go from happy pep to excited anxiety about everything?

It wanted to know how much beauty
it could find in everyday life,
but then rent was coming up and
it wanted to know what it was like to get distracted by obligation
It didn’t want to know
what it was like to be kicked out of its apartment.

In me it doesn’t understand
even half of the rest of itself.
It decided I didn’t need to be that clever.

I don’t claim to know the way
the universe works,
or why it works,
or why it wanted to experience me,
but here I am.
Might as well make the best of it.

30 in 30: #16 Loneliness as a defense, #17 Living in a generation of lost children, #18 Learning to be forgotten (slow fade)

#16 Loneliness as a defense

There are days when staying away from the world
is the best way for me to feel comfortable in it.
If I’m surrounded by no one,
then no one gets to leave.
If I can finish arguing with the thoughts
in my head long enough to listen to what
I’m actually trying to tell myself,
I’d be able to find relief in my self.
There can be comfort in the sound
of your internal voice thinking
through your solitude.

I’ve gotten skilled at hiding frustration in my voice.
I use up all my bubbling personality before I leave at 5.

Staying in just let’s the rest of the people
get out ahead of me while I’m at home.
It’s been a while since I last dove
head first into weeknight sociability
and all I can remember from that
is struggling to the surface for air.
Loneliness is only a problem
when you can’t feel the end of it.
____________________________

#17 Living in a generation of lost children

There was a time just before we all got here
when the world felt freshly pink and innocent,
born into a new century with 100 years of possibility
waiting to be taken advantage of by our generation.

Raised on the bittersweet taste of a comforting lie,
about everything being okay in the end if we only
follow this step by step process to reach your dreams.
Get out ahead of the rest by doing
what we’re telling everyone to do.
You can stand out just by going through the motions
and letting yourself be seen the way we tell you.

It’s a lie based on a world that
self destructed itself on a pile
of big money ambition.
When we arrived all that was left for us
were the scraps that were still cooling
and nothing was safe enough to touch.

The press of technology’s advance
makes our best efforts less than expected,
shows us just how much more we need
to push to stand out in the crowd.

Living in a world of GPS locators and instant directions,
we never really felt like we found the right way.
We’ve polite smiled my way through a world of advice
from people who have never lived in the world
we’ve been left with.

Our voice of dissatisfaction is heard
as the spoiled cries of a solipsist generation,
labelled that way by the people
that made themselves famous with
never believing they’d had their share.

It’s been a constant test to see
if you can limp by forever
without making it worse.
____________________________

#18 Learning to be forgotten (slow fade)

Take each day in deep gulping breaths
and slow drain exhales.
It’s easier to be remembered
than it is to be forgotten.
Every embarrassment, and bad choice
blazes away as a memory that refuses
to give up on itself.
The missteps you took, and the ground
they laid for settling into you
for the long haul.

It’s when you’re letting go
of the long term bad ideas
that you need to be practiced.
It feels necessary for survival,
even if it feels like donating
a pound of flesh to an idea
you were never sold on.
Letting go despite everything you want.
Put off learning this particular skill
until long after you should have known better.
It’s best to be avoided.
Let this be the last thing you ever become good at.

30 in 30 2016: #15 Oh what came of the things we once believed?

Oh what came of the things we once believed?

I can’t believe I used to hide on evenings
before holidays hoping to catch glimpses
of whatever mythical creature was to crawl
into my home that night to leave me candy and/or presents.

Steal their secrets because
I had BIG plans for a flying sleigh
and a bunny that made chocolate.
These are the stories I grew out of when
people stopped trying to convince me they were true.

When I was a kid there were stories
of pizzas with anchovies being a gross option
that was all over the place.
To this day I’ve never been
to a place that offered it as a topping.

I’m still wondering where
all the fish loving pizza eaters went.
Did they ever even really exist
or was anchovie pizza always
just a lie to scare kids into
accepting the plain cheese an adult picked up for them?

88 miles per hour isn’t as fast as I thought it was.
I never travelled back in time and mostly no one noticed,
except that one cop that saw me.
Maybe he was jealous of my sweet ride.

Then there are the stories with
a bit of painful truth wrapped up
in enough fluff to make it seem comforting.

College is the golden ticket
to a career and upper middle class fulfillment.
That one’s still pretty sore
even though I dropped that 23 year long
fantasy that was shoved into my face
along with the mysterious threat
of my “permanent record”
that would prevent me from
getting anywhere in life
because it will follow me
with black marks about how
I was regularly tardy to a class
or failed to turn in an assignment on time.

These stories took years of reality
to wear through my belief in the fluff
and feel the pokes and jabs
from the hidden truths I should have seen.

30 in 30 2016: #13 Early enough to hear the urban wildlife + #14 Catching a mind reader in the act

I keep forgetting to update and write these poems. They are getting done though, so that's something at least.

#13 Early enough to hear the urban wildlife 

The chill from the universe’s infinity encroaching
on Earth’s finite surface has not been lifted by the day’s first sun.
The sun hasn’t gotten out of bed yet, but for some reason I have.

The skunks and alley cats of the neighborhood
still shuffle around in silence in a world of sleeping giants.

Traffic, the unforgiving murder beast of the urban jungle,
has not woken up to stir the atmosphere
into the fury of civilization’s dying breath yet.

The early birds sing to one another
without combustion to drown out their melodies

The glow from the street lamps carries the songs
 through all the open windows,
breezing over the sleeping consciousness
of the people still enthralled by their nightly dream trance.

I try to breath in as much of the morning air as my lungs can get,
giving the secret morning bird song its rhythm
with the silent bass beat of my pulse’s backbone.

I don’t know what’s waiting for me in the belly of the day,
but this is me grounding myself before I lost track of now.


#14 Catching a mind reader in the act

I’ve never met a mind reader that I liked.
Mind readers never want you to notice them.
Not the Vegas style cold reading charlatans
who want everyone to see them for as long
as it will take for people to believe them.

A genuine mind reader sits beside you
getting to know you without you being realizing.
They hear everything you say
and know what you meant to say
and what you didn’t want anyone to hear you say.
Fishing for the ideas swimming behind your eyes,
until they get their fill of all the inner workings of your mind.

This is not to confuse the mind readers,
with the girl who can see right through me.
I’ve tried wearing hats, growing my hair long,
and running a TV distraction marathon,
but it never seems to work.

Every time I look into her my belly fills with honesty.
I can’t help looking for new ways to impress her,
to surprise her even though she can see through me.

I always assume I’ve failed
to reach an impressive enough level
to keep her interested,
but she always smiles despite seeing through me,
appreciating the effort for what it is:
attempts to show off the parts that might still be hidden from her view.

30 in 30 2016: #11 Riding Bikes and #12 Casual Time Travel

Riding Bikes

I’ve never had a bike

made for what I needed

the bike for in the first place.

As a kid I had a bike that was too tall for me

that I road in flip flops to get scraped up toes

In college I had a mountain bike

for my paved sidewalks and drunken rides home

and spilling onto brown brick

when the ground came at me too fast or too wavy.

When I got my new bike

the moments my wheels

spin the earth beneath me

I could feel myself fighting

the impulse to fly.

Sensing the pull to lift off

and forget about the pavement.

I’ve nearly crashed around impatient drivers

that believe their split second of hesitation

to let me past will ruin their day’s finely tuned schedule.

Drivers enveloped in solipsistic view of the world

they never notice or don’t care or have misunderstood

spiteful bellies of feelings about people on bikes.

It’s not easy biking in the city streets.

The commute has taught me

the need to be more aware

of my surroundings than they are of me.

I have learned that the furthest

I thought I could push myself

is miles from my edges

and that I make no progress

without exertion.



#12 Casual Time Travel

When you think of time travel

you think of blue police boxes

and out of date sports cars

going infinite infinity miles per hour

to get through the walls on the now bubble.

Playing the hero in their own story

they break through all boundaries.

If they see a boundary, they eat a boundary.

And wash it down with a cup of hot steaming rules.

Each trip runs the risk of even the smallest event

potentially altering the future in catastrophic ways

that the travel could never imagine.

Displaying more style than thought,

There is never any room for error,

but somehow manage to wiggle

around their mistakes.

I’ve never been interested in correcting my past

and leaping decades backwards in time

to save my future from facing consequences.

I dream of slowing time to a crawl.

Embracing relativity for the entire universe.

I dream not of altering the past or future events,

but making now last forever.

Pace out the seconds to be days apart

to share the moments

I’d rather not have to let go of.

Leap over days when I’m not quite sure how to fill them

while I wait for one I can see in the distance.

Stopping time and again to commit the moment

to long term memory, promising each detail

I’ll never forget how it fit into this moment.

I could dream of epic adventures

and saving the future, but my life

could be more easily saved

by skipping the dullness, s

lowly down excitement to a steady pace,

and freeze framing the joy for as long as it take to never forget it.

30 in 30 2016: #9 and #10

#9 Schrodinger’s Best Side

I never really listened for them,
but both the best and worst of myself
are somewhere inside me.
They take turns making my decisions,
but if I never take the time to actually listen
I can’t tell who steered me wrong.

There are times when I feel
like I’m brave enough, but
I usually find myself jumping
onto the nearest distraction
to keep me occupied long enough
to no longer be interested in whatever
I felt coming up from inside me.

This isn’t every day,
This is the odd moment remembered.
This is mispronouncing words in front of the whole 6th grade class
and not realizing it until years later, those polite assholes all just stared.
This is the a part of me that did all the right things and relaxed his way to glory.
This is the time I couldn’t remember what it was to be strong enough
to say no or all the times it was a misunderstanding of what brave was
that made me say yes.
They all live in the volume of my self-doubt

I listen to the better self inside my head
as often as I can hear it speaking.
In my moments of desperation,
it’s my better self I pray to:
Show me strength, better me,
Show me the way out of this, better me,
Show me how I’m supposed to deal with all of this, better me.

I’ve become  practiced at hearing the chorus of quiet
with the subtle ticks and hums
barely above silence that’s almost never there.
Those are small moments in a life
constantly moving by the sea.

#10 The tingle of her gaze

I had grown so tired of missing their brightness. 
The way the whites rarely peaked out around 
the bronze chocolate swirls in your eyes. 
They hid behind the creep of exhaustion 
and too much of traffic for any one soul. 

I could see the way you were just 
holding it all together by hiding 
the soft whites of your eyes.

You wanted to bounce 
open spilling their wholeness 
they held the moment our door closed,
but you’d forgotten how.

We have spent years trying 
to work distance and sleep 
and work and joy into 
a view of the horizon 
with an outline of our future.

I have seen the timid parts of your eyes 
peeking out from safe corners 
created by a tomorrow of maybe possibility.
Their luminosity begins to caress
the tension from my shoulders.

I look for those parts whenever I get home.
I can see your whole day and our whole night
in the shine in your eyes. 
I can feel myself getting lighter 
in the shine they bring to your face.

30 in 30 2016: #8 Learning from my own mistakes (where’s the lesson plan)

Learning from my own mistakes (where’s the lesson plan)

Little mistakes will add up, if ignored,

and make the carpet they’re swept under look lumpy.

The bigger ones never let you forget,

constant reminders of what you should have done.

What you thought this would be easy?

No one bothered telling you it’s harder than it looks

that you’re expected to figure it out as you go

and there is no lesson plan to avoid missteps.

Stay home on the weekends,

I make fewer mistakes as I grow older,

but I’m taking less chances to fail

and getting dwindling payouts on a win.

I have always been quick to make mistakes,

even when I see them coming,

trying to build confidence in my ability

to teach others what not to do.

Hindsight shows me all the moments

I should have changed the outcome,

but that’s really just a mind’s way of

criticizing foresight’s bad vision.

30 in 30 2016: #7 Old friends I never had

Old friends I never had

Old friends have shared history,

that I can’t ever seem to learn.

All the ones still around

are still tender with their newness.

I’ve always been awful with

dates and times of events.

Dreaming of being a better person

from the back seat of the car I didn’t fit.

The morning took me by surprise

and I worried about getting

away with it on a dead battery.

Life has not been a succinct series

of story-lines that wrap themselves up

before ever getting too complicated.

I’ve always tried to keep hidden

long enough to forget about them.

After a lifetime of bad calls

and “I obviously know best”s,

most nights I prefer sleep to adventure.

I’m getting good at pulling punches

with my better judgment,

throwing the fight,

getting chased to the dawn by

the mistakes I made,

laugh running from the rain

covering my exit and

keeping people from

noticing the trails of smoke

I leave in my wake.

30 in 30 2016: #6 Obscure Fears you didn’t know you had

Obscure Fears you didn’t know you had

Katsaridaphobia is the fear of

finding a roach in your silverware drawer.

You’ve got no idea how it got there,

or why all the traps you’ve put out

aren’t luring them in,

but now you wash everything

before you use it because you can’t

look at the drawer without seeing

that wriggling black spot scamper

across your eating utensils, take out menus, and unused chopsticks.

Peniaphobia is the fear of

an unexpected rent increase

at just the wrong time.

You’ve been getting between your paychecks

with just enough room to breath.

Then like a grain of sand

in the gears of a music box,

it decides to change the tune,

making it harder to hear the melody.

Now whenever you get mail from the rental office

your heart sticks in your neck while your stomach drops to your knees.

Atelophobia is the fear of

not saying the right thing

to the right people

to get where you hope to be.

You’ve got skill and ability

to follow your dreams,

but you’ve always been bad

at convincing others to gamble on a long shot.

Maybe keeping all your talents hidden

is just your way of keeping

the world from knowing

you don’t think you’re good enough.

Cherophobia is the fear of

the other shoe dropping,

seeing the easy streak ahead of you isn’t real.

Things can’t possibly be this nice,

if they are that means I’ve missed something.

I’m too relaxed and I let myself

forget something important

it’ll come back to shatter all this happiness.

Graphophobia is the fear of

words on paper.

Writing them down gives them meaning.

Admitting the faults you feel

is asking for someone to tell you they are true.

Reading them back you tell yourself

they are just words

they don’t actually hold power over you.

You tell yourself this,

but the hesitation is always there when you start.

Until you remember bravery isn’t

a complete lack of feeling afraid,

but instead it is knowing your fears

and standing up to the cascades

of doubt despite of your worst efforts.