Ghost Hardware

your hands seem as playful
as goldfish in a milk jug,
but I'm only ever eating the walls again,
privy to the noises that beggars
make when running by,

i have this stencil
of Jesus
whiskeyed out
on a park bench,
spilling nickles
like daydreams
onto the broken pavement.


i lack nervousness in nature..
my anxious heart is only restless
amongst the concrete that my mind acknowledges,
but will not give into.
i've seen everything leave
& seemingly return
in the ocean of my life.
i'm waiting for something to stay,
as unlikely as that may ever be.



the hours
deplete me
of irony
& ivory.

I keep blades of grass
in my back pocket
to cut through the memories;
shadows are like dead relatives,
friends I've lost along the way
& the strangers I've left in passing
that I'll never see again.
I keep them all like coin collectors
hoarding stamps and rings.

each love affair is a different life,
every parting of the lips a reminder
of how many times I've died,
lived again
& started it all over.
the parts of me that are missing
make me whole.
I take deep breathes
when I'm remembering,
then tuck my eyes
into my dreams
& let go.
in my secret body,
I am both always & never
alone...