Clouds and Trees

"Nothing ever goes away enough or arrives enough,/ and I want to cry when I think of my heart,/ muscle pounding in muscle, greedy always for joy." – 'A Warning', Eric Anderson

Month: September, 2009


Written here
are the words you heard
hidden in their hollows
confiding in the abscess of my chest
and individually
they crawled into my fingertips
which might explain
your confusion when
my fingers brushed
that dip in your back
while you pretended
to sleep



I realized
how much
I lie
but no one
I told
believed me

A Cross Ticks

Silly girl, aren’t you
Maybe you weren’t
Ever going to be real

Please don’t pretend
Everything is easy
Oh, did I forget to tell you
People don’t just die anymore
Loneliness lets them

And yet, occasionally
Reality seeps into your
Eyes, and then the tides turn

Really, breathe just a little bit
Every particle is put there
And every mote floating a-
Lights upon the earth eventually

A Screen Porch

Wearing caskets
on our backs
we trekked through the fields of our regret
and you toyed with the notion of leaving
this tiny mistake of a town
but as the scum circled our drain
no ghosts withered in our windows
no memories rose up from the ground
after a cold September rain
I asked when the next train departed
and you replied that they all leave in the end
I laughed at the rhythm your heart breaks
and then stepped out into the torrent again


Please don’t cry
or apologize for your sorrow
a real life isn’t worth that much

The truth is, I lied
I didn’t break what I borrowed
I just stole everything I own

You speak with your mouth
but you can’t see once it’s open
you tried to blink at the setting sun

In that burnt autumn light
you thought sometimes the sky changes for you
the truth is, you only see what you want

And I’ll see you sometimes
or again when the sun sets tomorrow
apologies only go so far


The choir sang a song
which made their voices sound a little softer
and the people in the pews were unsure
just what they were listening to

The words washed through the glass
and were stained with holy colors on the way out
The grass was quietly covered
with the whispering
made saintly in its escaping

A boy sat in the bell-tower
where he spat seeds at the sidewalk
six stories below
and watched the sunflowers grow
And with the bell ringing forever behind him
he stepped into the petals
and let the music carry him
to a place
that always faced the sun