A glimmer

A Glimmer
Always the hearbreak
driving downtown
past important people
in important cars
hustling here and there
like what they’re doing
really matters

I was
never made
for this

Broke and armed
with nothing
but poems in my heart
in desolate solitude
of dingy bars
or sad breakrooms
to people clamor
about things
I’ll never
like mortages
and sports pages

And across
unending asphalt
of American highways
and miles
of roaring
the class lines are drawn
and people more downtrodden
than I’ll ever be
go to bed
to pangs of hunger
in their gut
and listening
to the clamor
of other important people
in important cars
forever alienated

While politicians
chatter on
about numbers
and statistics
but I’m not
a pie chart
I’m flesh
and tired bone

It’s grim
and they’re holding all the cards
with an ace
under the table

But don’t sing the blues America
always have
but dreamers
will always have dreams

And this dream
grows, illuminates
and explodes
splintering into
a thousand

It doesn’t leave much
but it leaves

That’s where I’ve been as of late, clinging to hope. I don’t have time for apathy anymore. There is a huge difference between surviving and living, and I haven’t been doing either extremely well.

There is always writing poetry, reading poetry, publishing, etc…. and I’m happy with all that, but waking up thinking about writing and going to bed thinking about writing means I’ve neglected a lot of other aspects of my life. It’s kept me in this factory, this town, this house.

Aimless Sunday

Enjoying a reprieve from the old factory in the form of a three day weekend. It’s a lazy Sunday as I split my time between the computer and laying on the couch.

Laying down with my eyes closed thinking of where I’ve been where I’m headed. At thirty-two I’ve a lot of years left, but I’ve burned quite a few too.

This is a cryptic post, oh well, all I can say is when you spend days in the factory and nights consumed with writing you start to question your sanity. I’ve had a lifelong obsession with laying down words with no time for anything else and I have to wonder if that is exactly why I am stuck in this factory life. I have dreams in my pocket and poems in my heart, but that doesn’t pay my bills.

But it’s Sunday
and all is alright in the universe

I layed down some pretty strong lines last night and I’ve added a few audio pieces over at my web site. Check it out.


Why a blog?
Because talking to this computer imagining that people are actually reading is better than talking to myself.
Because if someone is out there reading, I’m not technically drinking alone.
I don’t know what I hope to accomplish by starting this blog, other than amusing myself. Regardless, I’ll be posting here and there, and bulking up on links and such.