hello

i’ll see you on the other side
of a long and lonely night.
too hot for blankets and
too cold for none
and perfect to be blanketed
in your arms but
you need sleep.

i’ll see you on the other side
of a bright tomorrow.
my skin burnt in the bright uv rays of
my future, and a sweating
lemonade in the cup holder
of my lawn chair.

i’ll see you on the other side
of this never-ending, un-lit highway.
i’ll go one way and
you’ll go the other
with a cement barrier between us.

i’ll see you on the other side
of this ocean.
leaning out to the very edge
of this old creaky dock.
hoping the moments would pass
sooner. and the miles would
shrink.

i’ll see you on the other side
of forever.
because that’s how long tomorrow will seem
without you.

[i want to see you
on the other side of
goodbye.]

number three

never be rude to anybody.
you never know where your
next friend may
come from.

it might be
that weird kid having
a dance party by himself
to heavy-metal.
or the obnoxious carnivore
from Sunday dinner.

he might just be the one
feeding you
vegan soup tomorrow.

You.

abstractescape:

I ask myself,　
What is life?
I ask myself,
What is love?
My answer,
You.

number four

today
i learned to steal
a hymnal
sitting on the hard edge
of a wooden pew

there won’t be a soft seat
on judgment day

number five

being the best friend
doesn’t necessarily mean a thing
because even if you
are the one waiting
when the fame and the fortune
has passed

you’re still overlooked
and left seated
on an abandoned stage
when they decide to
change their suits back at the trailer

loyalty;
dependability;
yesterday-
doesn’t mean a thing

number six

you still give me butterflies.

number seven

i’ve finally figured out
why i spend so much of my time
on the dock.

not because of the nature
of the waves captivating
my gaze.
or because it’s somewhere
i can be alone.
though those are reason enough.

but
it’s the furthest point
west.
and every bit i stand closer
to the tip of that dock,
is one step closer to you.
and a little less ocean
between us.

all the things i am not

if i was a poet
i’d compare you to a needle and
say our love was the thread
of the seam
holding together my jeans.
i’d say you were enough
to keep the edges from bursting on days
when life simply handed out
too many lemons.

and if i were an author
i’d write the story of
footprints
on the beach and
the sunset
on the day my sun
slipped and you caught it
and became my light.

if i were a painter
i’d show you a masterpiece
of the music of my heart
twirling in the tunnels of
your love.

and if i were a photographer,
i’d snap a photo
of every smile you so generously
let me hold,
for however short,
so that in my hands
each smile could last
eternity.

but i’m not a poet
or an author
or a painter
or a photographer.
i’m just in love and all i’ve got
are three little words.
they’ll have to be enough

[i love you]

number eight

goat’s pupils are triangular
so are there corners in their vision?

does light enter their eyes
like a prism
making rainbows?

or do they still
only see black and white,
with only more edges to
inhibit them?

number nine

today i learned
to take my own advice
it’s good stuff you know.

do more of what makes you happy.
i enjoy strapping a guitar
to my shoulders
and wandering around
belting amazing grace and
hallelujah.

i learned that after
three months here,
nobody knew i could play
a guitar.
much less
owned one.

maybe i should attempt to
be a little less
of a grumpy mystery
and more of a human being

number ten

firetrucks in whitley, ontario
used to be yellow.
because red wasn’t bright enough
in an emergency

maybe the same is true
of all red flags in life
maybe red doesn’t scream loud enough
to be a warning.

from now on,
dear life,
please send yellow flags.

number eleven

life isn’t an option
and living is hard to do

be it in the comforts of a home
with everything you need and
enough love
to support a shelter of
homeless cats,
or in a cabin in the woods,
on an island with
not even a McDonald’s to speak of,

with people that make you shake
with anger
from behind your eyelids.
[hidden, but only by
the thinnest skin on
your body]

feeling are hard to hide
wherever you are
and i miss you tonight

number twelve

i learned to say thank you
in jeffrey’s language.
jeffrey:
is from india.
and i’m not sure what
the official name is
of that language.

i also learned
that 4 cups of coffee
can wake up your mind
while your body
wishes to remain asleep.

minus frequent trips to the
loo

number thirteen

sometimes
you don’t have to think.
you just have to do.

you have to learn to think
without your brain.
you can use your heart,
or your hands,
or even your kidneys.

sometimes
your mind only slows you down:
getting in the way;
bring up what-if’s
that are never going to be
when’s

your heart won’t overanalyze
its next beat.
it just does what it was made to do
and let’s life play what cards it will.

number fourteen

nobody’s nostrils are symmetrical
which makes me wonder
if everyone breathes easier on one side?

when we’re told to take
a deep breath,
does one side become more relaxed,
while the other is left
less relieved?

nobody’s perfects.
our nostrils are only
the beginning
of our problems