Out of Order

Sugar drenched scrap metal blues

on a cold, cold, January morning

warm a stone in my stomach that hurts every day

while pastel dawn pushes shattered light around

Blues in my ears and my head and the notes are crying

ripping my insides in a funny way

beating at my fool heart

with little hammers

Love me

i am here today

do it right away

but wasn't that you, yesterday?

That ever happen to you?

life in the wrong order

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A year is a lot of days in a row right next to each other, and they're cranky and mean after the long ride to December.

A year went by while I poured messy shots and opened beer, struggled for words in a story few would read, but I needed to like it. Every time I read it. I looked at the world through wide angle lenses as children blew at dandelion fluff or carved pumpkins. I narrowed my view to a sharp 85 millimeters and stopped on a face, followed a cheek bone down to the jaw, and made crisp images of glistening lips. I did so many things this year. And I reached out and missed the rest.