The Art of Making

The Scene: You are an actor and I, an epic script
With minds to set the screen afire
With hope upon our lips

The Method: Be emboldened and feel the risk with me
We’ll project timeless, endless strength
We’ll cast doubt to the sea

If Not Epic, Nothing

A mistake

Of epic, inhuman error

That looks more like betting the house on a whim

Than burning the breakfast toast

As if the gods had prodded

While I, fresh out of faith, felt forced to obey

Lest my heart be finally ripped from me

And my body thrown down the temple stairs


I’ll pretend I don’t know nothin’
You pretend you’ll set me straight
That somehow I’ll know somethin’

You were bid down under
To be taken down under
And be taken with the down under

Only to emerge
Having seen the tapestry
From below and above, in full

You were chosen to taste fear
To digest metal
That your feet would seek magnetic North

I, the storyteller in training
You, the epic tale
We, one mind, two hemispheres

Steph: An Epic Poem

I think,
Would be Stephanie
A love I didn’t know I needed
A friend from a Friend
Both martyred
For, what are true friends for?

Would have gifted me
A kind word
A wise word
Both since otherwise elusive in my world
For, looking back, what did I expect?

Steph, we’d have called her,
Would be a poem -nay, is a poem
A poem and sister to a brother
A work of art with no end, they are
Both Epic story-songs
For, hear thou, their lyrical air?

Would be safe from me now
A sword of truth having pierced my soul
A prayer of forgiveness asked
Both to self and sin, I desire to die
For what, but abandonment, is there?

Would be thirty soon
A soul eternal
A girl, a woman
Both alive
For, ‘tho I don’t deserve, why too am I?

Ode to Socrates

I knew nothing before you
Not a worthwhile thing
When to climb to heights
Why all feels imprecise
Where I ought to look
To sometimes not think twice

I knew nothing before you
Nothing that meant a fig
How I have it all
Why I love baseball
Not even my name
To rise again, post-fall



On the way to midnight
Honestly aren't you tired

The hair on her
The mess on him
The should have knowns and unknowns
The old film reels replay

All the while they don't care
They smile
One dimensional grins
As your epic fizzles
And fades to black


I became erased
Not with one bold stroke
So as to make the act noteworthy
Breaking News they could not avoid

Harsh, insipid words or kindlessness 
Carried excuses for roaming eyes
Earth made each 
trip ’round the sun 
As I disappeared, you sat on your hands

I toil now, with Epic hopes
Weaved with the smallest stands of gold
To ultimately decide
Do you deserve me