3:18pm

Clouds loom, grey room
open blinds, noisy box.

Dust flutters, dog barks
empty house, open heart.

Day is calm, quiet, grey -
painted in an open frame.

And I draw outside the lines,
Subject in the sill of time.

Thoughts @ 1:47am

My goal as a writer would be this: I'd like to write stories unrestrained by and outside of my ego. I don't even know if that's possible. I'm not even quite sure how big my ego is. I imagine that it's like the tip of an iceberg, where I'd think to myself "Well, it's not that bad" but then if I were brave enough to take a dive down below into  those icy waters and open my eyes, there it is -- huge and unyielding. If I could get out of myself long enough, I wouldn't want to just see the bigger picture, but the biggest picture. This is my impossible goal. Truthfully, I think everyone needs one of those. Everyone needs a goal which is almost very nearly within reach, just so that we might catch a little piece of it - the tiniest thread. I wonder what one ought with a little bit of impossible. Could you imagine? 

2:52am

What you gave me made me smile,
So ordinary and so worthwhile.
Like kindness in code,
and hope incognito --
I'll store it away,
but in plain sight.
A secret.
Unknowingly uncovered.
Underlined in its sitting place.

12:20am

You are not who you think you are.
You are not who you were.
You are not who you'll become.
You are placed in each moment,
like a single frame of a film reel.
Every second is rebirth into the next
and the end result,
I think, is what they call
the bigger picture.

2:58am

The things I love, I count in threes:
A splash of milk in my coffee or tea
Rain and fog with peeks of sun
A brisk walk, a skip or run -
Down the street with the sidewalk cracks -
Children's chalk art, railway tracks
And when I step off the train
I'm met with a smile, kiss and embrace
Strangers show their toothy grin,
When I leave to let them in
The chilly lips of the wind
Kiss my cheeks like the closest of kin
And that lovely, knitted, woolen scarf
Which gently hangs upon my neck
Brings warmth and comfort,
like the arms of the beloved I've not yet met
And there I am before the day
Before the work and rest and play
Before all the those things we do
And all those things we must get through
For me just to simply be,
I count the things I love in threes
One, so I shall not forget
that I am ever humbly blessed
Two, reminds me I'm not yet done,
and there is always more than one
Three, to stretch beyond belief
what it means to fight defeat --
in the greyest of the morning skies,
amongst the crowd of passer-bys,
and the unrest of a sleepless eye,
amongst the grief, sorrow and apathy,
I keep a little skeleton key
in a bundle of 1, 2, 3
That opens to a freer me