Spilled

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Sitting ignorant alone

The darkened theater of life

Waiting still for the inevitable ending

Where they finally meet and ride away

Together 

Having long since fallen

But the screen faded many minutes ago

The credits rolled

When did I look away and not see

Love, of course

I finally hear the brooms

Sweeping away the left-behind

The popcorn and candy and bad dreams

The exit sign flickers as if clearing its throat

11 Month Calendar

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We must never trust April, alright?
Consider back
The beginning of bad instinct
The timing of rain
And the push through despite
Do you recall its tale
Of flowers to follow
And new birth to come?
Hyperbole
Ridiculous 
Conspirator, April

So Much Blue Sky

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You warrant more verses

Come closer here

You chaotic data point

You anomaly of nature

Emerged from the bedrock

Suffered not by your world 

Until too close to now 

How many haven’t known

There are laws against thee

Giv’n In

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There is only ever the weather
And whether you know,
Its impetus

It may have been the warmth that Day
The Westerly winds 
That saved and destroyed me

Now, despite what I want
To believe
I must bid the tides their will

Starting at 9: a haiku

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The conversations 
I’ll never have with people
Who do not know me

Just for example:
“You seem to want to suffer
What of Nirvana”

And here’s my best one:
“Marry me then, will you not
P.S., must love kids”

There are so many
’twas surely my delusion
Unending it seems

And my newest gaffe:
I noticed I adored you.
Which must mean trouble