After a few weeks of new poems, I decided to reach back a couple years and dust one off.
i stand connected too far from a future to see the right answers and too close to a past that contains nothing but the wrong ones - and from where i’m standing, i can’t see my feet anymore as my presence grows and grows it covers up the fact that i never know anything more than what i began with, which is a shame because i desperately want to know what it is that i don’t and tie this world up in a messy bow so i can present my present as a kind of present to you and maybe we could spend the night opening it all over a bottle of wine - just yours and mine and it’ll be fine like hair that’s too thin and a balding sense of compassion that’s a golden seam that i will mine until i’m out of cute little answers and you’ve bought my last line you’ll say it’s all been a bunch of bullshit all of this time and i’ll smile and say i stand corrected and connected and a million other things that i wish would mean something to the likes of you - and by you i mean a beautiful shade of blue that your lips turn whenever the winter comes and we dream to go somewhere a helluva lot warmer than all the familiar places and so i confess that it’s all a lie and that my present isn’t much of a present at all but then again, you already know and i stand corrected, effected, and erected while you study the wall and here at the end of all of your moments, i stand connected to them all.