Thursday, May 24, 2018

The Pig

Every mare should run free in Pryor Mountains.
I wish it weren't true,
but the reigns I put on you are somehow akin to the pig in Castlerock Park.

Thursday, April 12, 2018


I don't get to fuck you.
Knock you out.
Pimp you...

Why would I want to be that angel?

Sunday, April 08, 2018


A social group is just another form of person that scales as well as amazon web services.

Thursday, March 29, 2018


He took her beyond hope, beyond love.
I couldn't bring her back to them, or even close.

Saturday, March 24, 2018

Monday, March 19, 2018

I Am

I am not of this world
I know the power of saints
But I cannot know glory

Thursday, March 08, 2018

Love me again

I have nothing to be that's not inside you.
Love me again.
Love me again.

Tuesday, January 02, 2018

The Life

She said if I loved her I would stop her leaving
even after she told me she chooses The Life above me.

Monday, November 13, 2017

Letter to Polly

Now that it's almost over with the house and long marriage, I'm so sorry, but I have some things I still need to say. Not saying they need to be shared, to Mary. Just saying they need to be shared.

I'm frankly ashamed it's to you, Polly. But I suppose the reason I am sharing, to you, is I still have this dream of having my unforgivable sin forgiven by Mary.

My sin is this mostly painful thing with Leota, and the other women, has shown me the beauty and harmony of what Mary and I had as a couple, as a unit, as a community of two.

My sin is I now see I needed to love Mary more, burn for her more, in the way I do women with an unknowable capacity to love me, or destroy me, probably both.

As I've said before, I wonder/regret if I am/was that kind of burning to Mary. I only know I must finally admit she was/is not to me.

But there was love and more so beauty in what Mary and I shared all those years. In our precious baby boy, Henry. In our homes. In our Thanksgivings and Christmases.

I am just so sorry and ashamed it took so long to become a man that can finally understand his own heart.

The Nations

We're two, different, sovereign people. Maybe that's what makes it awkward? Maybe real, mature love is like a nation within a nation? Maybe the union will always be imperfect, but vastly superior to war?

In any truce, both sides concede something.

I can be your 'I Don't Know' man. But don't think I can be your (always) 'Yes' man. You're wrong if you don't know that makes me sorry.