First poem of 2023

I will predict myself a victim of my own sense, remember the smell of bitter cold air leaking through the holes of your silence. The chills I will feel in the dead of dawn, when I can no longer hear the June bugs hissing your song.

Come September you will have forgotten my birthday and I’ll say something with some sort of sentimentality. “are you kidding me? Doesn’t mean anything but life shorten’.” Besides, I know you tried your best to survive this year’s mess but little woman, you are enough to devour this city and find yourself in the spot you left thee. Somewhere between August and October in my a jail cell doing 60. Thinking of God and forgetting the whiskey. Dreaming of the lighthouse, lake Michigan in the background racing shadows on the sand while the sun peaked privately at our skin. The spider on the wall and how beautiful I thought your mind was as I was humming along. Yeah, you strummin some song.

Remembering that night when we’re down here under the stars and I’m trying to imagine how one could literally pause. Savor this moonlight as it births reality and take away the “tic toc” of every where we gotta be just to be where we ought to be, which is here! chasing the insanity like a drunk without the comrodery! It all means so much to me.

I dedicate myself to frigid mornings where white sheets wrap my body and your playing a thief stealing all the warmth inside of me..undeniably pretty with all your morning glory. Going back for another stay in my life I need to repay.

There were Birds singing well before the light hit my eyes. Your skin shines with mine. Again wondering how to pause. The heat is off, the fire out. The despair in how I hold you comes with the recognition for having had been found by you. Whoever you are, you gleam.. as God bursts through deeper parts of what any of this wordiness in me even means.