To whom it may concern—
and if you’re the coworker
who
keeps
annoying
my girlfriend
this should concern you—
I can’t say I’ve ever successfully performed
in a play or musical,
but I would gladly break your legs.
To whom it may concern—
and if you’re the coworker
who
keeps
annoying
my girlfriend
this should concern you—
I can’t say I’ve ever successfully performed
in a play or musical,
but I would gladly break your legs.
I am learning,
I am listening.
I am thinking,
I am teaching,
I am learning,
I am loving,
I am taking care of myself.
The more it rains, the drier my sense of humor.
and if I must stand on Spanish plains
to have my head in the clouds,
I don’t care if my socks get wet
or my hair drowns, but if you ask me
what two things would my girlfriend say
I do not know how to use nearly as well as
I think I do, I would say
the dryer, my sense of humor.
When stars are no longer made
and the last ribbon of light
fades into the waves of night,
this lost boy will find his way
by the constellated freckles on your face.
Invisible touch, indelible mark,
the sins of our fathers
make us who we are.
And mine begs me stay
farther from the sun.
But on the wings he made
I am my father’s son.
So, when the day is done
and, above the fireplace,
my axe is hung,
this is my father’s day.
I am my father’s son.
I love the moments I’m afraid,
afraid of peace, afraid of doves.
Afraid that war is not enough.
A frayed rope man that hangs his head,
the moment I love, I’m afraid.
With my being here, the water level
of the sum of existence
rises. A cosmic squeezing
of the toothpaste tube,
climbing like shadow
to the lip of this universal basin.
“Put small dots of the toothpaste
on your pimples,” my Nona tells me.
“Let it harden.” But as I stand
in front of the mirror,
looking like a beginner’s guide
to acupuncture of the face,
I realize that where I am
there is nothing.
I am the captain of my ship,
The Hear and Know. An ocean whips
its waves across the bow and mists
the air to brine my brow. I miss
no crew, no oars, no growling drum,
no cries of war, no brew, no chum.
No one to tie me to the mast,
no one to tell me don’t look down.
I am the captain of my ship,
the here and now.