Toeing the edge

There is a fine line —
like a tightrope walker
toeing the edge —
between
complaint and contradiction
that makes me want to set
this whole word farm on fire.

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Cupid texted

I’m all out of arrows

Cupid texted.

Thank God for that, I reply.

But you don’t believe in God.

Sometimes, my friend.

Sometimes,

I do.

My Bluebird

You were so different than me

And you loved Joan Cusack

I never did get to finished Infinite Jest

But there you were in a Brooklyn apartment

And you introduced me to Brett Easton Ellis

So there’s a silver lining in everything

I guess, so like Bukowski

You’re the Bluebird in my heart

But I’m not giving you up to them

I just watch

with wonder

as you fly away.

More Violence

When a person feels safe

they become defensive,

they fear the loss of control,

if pushed

violence is their only means,

a means which only provokes

more violence

violence that burns

violence that spreads

like wildfire.

The Craft

Tears well
followed by
a deep breath,
sadness
is a fine art,
and I’m still
after all these years
developing the craft.