Wednesday, September 09, 2015

Get Going Gone

Come away with me
We'll pull up our stakes & rattle down the coastline
stop at all the greasy-spoon joints
pool our money for smokes and fun
We'll just keep going until we can't drive
anymore
I'll get some job washing dishes & making breakfast food
You can sit in the motel bed
paint your toenails
& sip rum until I get back
We'll break out the old tape deck
& play something older than us
dance in the broken light until we fall over drunk
Laughing & mad
& we'll make love in those borrowed sheets
& everything will be expendable
Paper cups and tiny soaps
& maybe while we're gone
the law will forget us
Our friends will forgive us
& some day we'll make our way home

-Joshua Fink


http://www.joshuafinkpoet.com/

Monday, August 24, 2015

Any Day

Hear the song the finches sing
Hear the melodious church bells ring

Walk the concrete/Feel the cracks
Feel the warmth your spirit lacks

Hear the hustle of the street
Watch a first time couple meet

Grab a bench & watch the trains
Count the nights beneath the rain

Send a letter to yourself
Polish off your liquor shelf

Burn a message in your chest
Put on your best suit & vest

Put a record on a loop
Place your letter on the stoop

Choose a blade, some pills, or worse
Kiss goodbye your maddening curse

Say a prayer or have a smoke
Accept the promises you broke

Breath a sigh/Embrace the sorrow
Set the clock for more tomorrow

Monday, April 20, 2015

Little Rooms

I put myself in little rooms.
A room in a larger room. 
A trunk in the little room in the larger room.
My head is a room too. 

I thought I'd take more walks. 
But I stay in these little rooms inside rooms like Russian dolls. 

Today I woke up wondering why I stay in these rooms so often. 
I like everything outside of the rooms. 
It just becomes so hard to leave them.
Stepping out of these rooms is like jumping off a cliff into the ocean. 

And sometimes that's all I think about. 

Monday, March 09, 2015

September 20th, 2013, 3:46am PST

I cried
From the stoop
Outside, the harvest moon 
had fallen into fall and
it smelled like winter
And each lover
sat beside me
Fresh like the weather
an olfactory reminder 
Of each year 
These walls 
hold silent 
their ears
Keeping secrets 
beyond their means....

 

For James, with patience and strength

I don't want to do anything but miss you for a while.
There are a million coulda shoulda wouldas that might pass through these lips.
There are a million things I've forgotten and a million moments I'll never forget.
With you it was all or nothing.
In the beat of a heart. 
You were beauty and all it's flaws.
A million stars born, exploding, and collapsing into nothingness again. 
You were the shape of that heart. 
Beating ferociously. 
Lone man, part wolf. 
Standing, howling at the moon, simply for the breath that filled his lungs.... Silhouetted as the sun blazes and burns out behind him.