Fame

I used to look like

Jack Black with a beard.

Now I look like

John Belushi without a beard

And Jason “George” Alexander,

Oliver “3 Musketeers” Platt,

And one time Charlie Sheen.

I have never once

Looked like

Keith Baird.

I'd Rather Be Cinders

I don’t mind not being the bright

Fireworks exploding, the ones

Everyone goes “ooh” and

“Aah” over. I’d much

Rather be the glowing cinders,

The ones they warn could

Burn if they fall on you, the

Ones you stare at intently, saying

Nothing at all, all the way

Down until they burn out

Completely.

Diner Haiku #20

fuck daylight savings;

only time i save is from

flux capacitors

Diner Haiku #19

when this twenty-four-

hour world ends, will the sun

still rise tomorrow

Diner Haiku #18

after i speed up

on muse inspired coffee

i crash down on dreams

Diner Haiku #17

show me something real

with grit and stain and soft sad

laughter echoing

Diner Haiku #16

poems on diners

are about as useless as

fries without ketchup

Love Happens in Seconds

Love happens in seconds

Between hours of waiting

It’s the lion that sleeps

Slothfully in the sun

While flies bite at its ears

And hyenas scorn its idleness

It rolls over, waiting

It yawns, waiting

Even fucking the lionesses

Nothing but more waiting

Until an eye opens and

Targets a sleek gazelle

And it happens in seconds

Like a coiled spring exploding

And all that passionate flesh

Intertwined with beating blood

Starts in seconds

Ends in seconds

Leaving only that moment

Fading quickly from memory

Love happens in seconds

The rest is just waiting.

To The Stars We Ignore

This is my apology to all those

Ignored stars burning infinite at night,

To all the ones who don’t burn quite as bright

As Polaris or Orion’s Belt, whose

Fires often hide behind smokestack fumes,

Smoggy haze, or sky-scraping city lights.

And even when gazing into clear skies

I usually mistake Venus’ soft hues

And give her undue credit for your glow.

Here is my apology for your lost

Glory, when your fiery zeal across

Cold blackening horizons once imposed

Fear in ancient primates; their shallow thoughts

Never knew your bright flares were dying slow.

He's Got Game

Insecurities run down my

Spine, stick around there

Like LSD, and every so

Often a flashback occurs

Reminding me of past

Insecurities

The time I tried a joke in

Class and heard silence, or

When I had such a witty

Retort that I laughed telling

It, only to see contemptuous

Smirks

These memories build up

Until my spine cracks. I

Can’t walk quite right, I

Can’t talk quite right, I’m

Not quite right in my own

Skin

These memories drown me

In the past, while in the

Present I stumble, stutter,

Try to find the right line or

Right step and miss every

Beat

Sometimes, when I’m not

Looking for it, a good line

Breaks through, a

Moment that’s as

Fragile as Dandelion

Seeds

Some composure is regained.

I’m a baby learning to walk

And talk right again, and

Hope that, this time,

Maybe something will

Stick.

Crappy Phone Reception

[ | | | | | ]

Eight-hundred

And sixty-two miles separate our bodies.

Our words are fingers, our voices are facial expressions,

And all that distance crackles like thunder over the

Phone when all subject matter has been exhausted.

[ | | | | ]

“How was your day today?”

We ask for the third time. It’s not the answer we’re

Searching for but rather some semblance of human

Connection that’s dissipated as the weeks

Turned to months turned to years.

[ | | | ]

“Oh, it was okay,” and you can see their eyes

Welling up thru their tone. Our stomachs drop from

Knowing that our day wasn’t okay, that not a whole

Lot has been okay. “I love you” we say, still

Reaching for that connection.

[ | | ]

We promised each other we’d never overuse the phrase

“I love you”, for fear that such redundancy would wear

Out those words. Now those words carry more weight

Than either of us can be burdened with. We are very

Tired and our voices are getting scratchy.

[ | ]

Eight-hundred and sixty-two miles between

Us, the battery’s dying, it’s getting harder

To hear you, and I just don’t know

What to say anymore.

::Beep:: ::Click::

[No Service]

Something Bigger Than Me

i want to wrestle a bear, two beings

combating over Something

bigger than both of us

for the bear, a Morsel of life-

sustaining Food, either from my

backpack of fruits, granola, and mineral

water, or from my very own

flesh and marrow

for me, the Bear itself, a small

chance to overcome

Nature outside of my own

nature, to show the culmination of

what evolution has given me

for a chance to regale my fellow

combatants that i survived Something

bigger than all of us, and that,

after it all, my backpack was

empty, and that somewhere in the

forest lay a bear full in the Belly.

Traffic Violations

I often mistake Stop

Signs for Yield Signs,

And I think I have the

Go ahead then POW!

Now I gotta explain

How I thought the

S-T-O-P looked like a

Y-I-E-L-D, even though

Not a single letter is

Shared between the two,

Or how in my eyes, the

Octagon lost five sides and

Morphed into a down-

Facing triangle.

I also need to read Traffic

Signals better, but Red

Inevitably flows to Yellow

Inevitably flows to Green,

All those colors blending

And easy to

Misinterpret.

Condolences (an epilogue)

I often held onto you

when you cried, no matter

how often you pushed me away.

It was never about the rent,

when your roommates let you down

again

It was never about your father, or

his constant disappointment

in you

It was never about your pet crayfish,

his health and happiness questionable

at best

(cause who really knows

or ever asked how a crayfish feels?)

It was always about your mother

When you cried, all those ripples centered

around your mother, and how she died when

you were only thirteen years old.

I never really knew anyone with such tragedy

in their lives, never really saw them cry as

constant reminders plagued them, never

really tried to console what could never

be consoled.

maybe I wasn't

saying the right things, maybe I wasn't

holding you tight enough, maybe I wasn't

caressing your cheeks soft enough, maybe, maybe,

maybe...

When we took that trip with

your family to Disney Land,

another constant reminder,

you broke down in the

gift shop after Splash

Mountain, a ride you

always went on as a kid.

The attendant tried to console you

without ever knowing what it was

exactly he was consoling you for,

offering you discounts at the park's

photo center.

When I think about that

moment, all those tears for your

dead mother, I think that you

really never can be consoled.

And, when I think about those

discounted photos that seemed to

stop those tears, I think that

maybe you never want to be.

Diner Haiku #15

all these electric

synapses firing off,

all thinking of you

Diner Haiku #14

bouncin' out early

from the diner, out from fate,

without direction

Diner Haiku #13

let's light this spot up

with halos and tequila

or it ain't worth it

Diner Haiku #12

i shaved my beard yes-

terday, only to be cut

by stubble today

Diner Haiku #11

let's dance without time,

sing without tune, walk without

beat and rhythm blues

Another Poem About Drinking

A stream of

Bubbles climbs to

The top of my mug,

Defying gravity

Or racing for

A quick breath

Of air,

Something that

Can't be found

At the bottom

Of the glass,

No matter how

Hard you look