Die dunkelste Nacht

There are too many secrets
surging through me

and they're not all mine.

There's not enough room for them

and they know that.

It's too cold

(but they don't think so)

and I feed them well.

And I watch them devour 

the death that despises me.

There are too many of them hovering 

over me when I sleep.

And the voices sound like mine.

But the terrors from Hell aren't mine.

And my screams don't even curdle their blood,

they entertain them.

Sometimes I am obscene, and it's

all just entertainment.

But when I attack them in the name of God

I'd like back all the things

I don't deserve, please.

And they whisper lies to me at night.

And they ridicule me at night.

And I need to stay awake.

Oh, Dear Jesus may the

scales of lies be shed from my eyes

that believed them.

The slick and sly and skilled disguise

will not be soon forgotten.

Fight, fight fight fight.

Fight fight fight fight fight. Fight.

Fight fight. Bleed. Fight bleed.

No sleep.

It's won.

And isn't this all so convenient

to have another thing to blame but myself.

"Sounds like a personal problem."

You're right.

Good night, darkest night.

Hoppe hoppe Reiter
wenn er fällt, dann schreit er,
fällt er in den Teich,
find't ihn keinter gleich. 


Hoppe hoppe Reiter
wenn er fällt, dann schreit er,
fällt er in den Graben,
fressen ihn die Raben.


Hoppe hoppe Reiter
wenn er fällt, dann schreit er,
fällt er in den Sumpf,
dann macht der Reiter... Plumps!

Something That Means Something

Find the beauty of God. That is an imperative sentence. There are 1,618 characters in this poem. It is still a poem even though there are no line breaks. 1,645 if you include the title. The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog. That is an example of a sentence that includes every letter of the alphabet. Seven letters make up two words that make up the shortest verse in the Bible. Jesus wept. The Bible is made up of sixty-six books. Somebody said if you understand this verse, you don’t need to read anymore. You will have learned everything. Somebody should say something about when to type numbers like this 3 or like this three. When his character cried, John Barth wrote, “His eyes watered, there aren’t enough ways to say that.” I don’t think many ways are necessary. Near my home there is a church where a large sculpture of Jesus hangs from the ceiling. A proper sentence only needs a subject and a verb to be considered complete. He is just above the congregation and I’m worried He’s going to fall down. Sometimes the subject is understood: (You) Go. (You) Be. He is very large and I do not think those cords will support Him. One should not begin a sentence with a conjunction. But I have a friend who says, “He’s tied up pretty good. I’ve never even seen him sway.” Thank God. It is a common misconception that one should refrain from using a preposition to end a sentence with. He doesn’t even sway. English is one of the most difficult languages to learn. A girl I knew used to say, “May God bless you and keep you forever and ever. Amen.” I wrote used to say because she has since died. She used to say this after a sneeze. Did you feel the cool breeze? That is an interrogative sentence. I suppose she would say it still, were she alive. Please (you) interject with a response. And I suppose she would even still mean it. There are a lot of rules to break here. Everyone wants to [say] [do] [be] something that means something. And when you find it, thank Him for it. 

Can you imagine?

Hey Opster.

Today it's been a year since you've left us.
But I know if I saw you now, the first thing you'd say is
"Howdy doody!"
And you'd tell me about all the phenomenal things you've seen
since we spoke last.
And you'd ask,
"Can you imagine???"

You know, I only knew you for 22% of your life.
But, at the time, you knew me for all of mine...
so it's okay.

I'd expect you're still wearing that same brown vest everyday
with your York Dukes baseball cap.
But I'll bet you don't worry about dangerous fungus

taking over the world anymore.
Or the Russians.
We still hear the shuffling of your slippers around the house.
It's not that creepy. We kind of like it.
I will still always expect there to be a puzzle in progress on your table
and it will always be "Opa's room."
Your rooms were always my favorite rooms.
I don't think I will ever feel as comfortable anywhere as long as I live.
I loved finding your silverware in our drawer
because it was just another excuse to go back to your part of the house.
You made our dogs fatter
but our cat happier.
All the mausers miss you.
And I miss Lithuanian phone calls and newspapers
and the 10:00 news too loud when we were trying to sleep.
I might even miss the incessant weather updates

for other parts of the country
and the weird smells of the food you cooked.
And I also miss that little bus coming by
to take you, in your suit, to lunch.
Why did you always wear that suit to go out???
Even on scorchingly hot days!?!
I'm sorry for never putting on socks

when you told us we'd get sick if we didn't.
Even though that never made us sick,

we could have just done it.
But... you could have just put your teeth in too...
and you rarely did that, so... I guess we're even.

I'm sorry Kai broke your typewriter
and that he sometimes slept in your bed when he was little
because he was scared of being alone.

And I'm sorry for not being home

for your last and 90th birthday.
Why did we even go to Hermann that one year?
We still aren't sure, but we hope you liked it.

I'm also still not sure why

you would sometimes ask us for ice cream
even though you hated all things cold.
No ice in your drinks.
"Sippy sippy Mississippi."

Another thing I don't know
is why my mom considered you a suitable supervisor
when we wanted to go in the pool.
But now that I think of it,
maybe she meant for us to watch each other.

Thanks for always picking up the sticks in the backyard.
And giving us root beer and candy
(even though some of us hated it).
And thanks for always letting us play with your magnifying glass
and pretend your footstool was a boat.

I'm so glad you got to meet all your grandchildren.
When we told you the thriteenth was born you said
"A dozen is a dozen but thirteen is more."
Ain't that the truth.

You can remember things now, I'd assume.
Do you remember when we got out the video camera
and asked you what advice you had?
You told us to go on a walk
until we found a really good tree.
And you told us to climb it;
that we'd never regret it.

I think that's the best advice I've ever gotten.

You sure did love walks,
even though you were really slow at them.
And you sure did love trees... and trimming them.
Good grief.
I'm sorry that we hid your saw so many times
but you really needed to calm down about those trees.
If there's any forestry where you are
I'm sure it's perfectly pruned.

Make Space

Two different colors embark on me now.

Just cradle me
and rock me
like you did before.
Like you always have.

This will swirl around in my mind
the next progression of days
while the smell of whats blooming
creeps in the air.
And the mix will be the death of death.

Tell it like it is
and you won't regret the
last time you lied
anymore.

More peace is to be had
but not yet.
There are no words for what comes next
so Ill have to say it

in

the

spaces.

There are heartaches in the endings
but we all reap what we sow.
And if we never let things die,
others never fully grow.

Mending

Griping for lack of miracles is erroneous. A demand for tangible promises is foolishness. Training for a softer sooner is ridiculous. Life incognizant of death is recklessness. I am not a body with a soul. I am a soul with a body. No rough-housing, no horse-play says my soul to my skin which is quivering in awe and fear and shame. Such feelings are understandable. My skin's days are numbered, after all.



* Started in Sept. 2008. The idea then turned into "Partly body, mostly soul."
"Mending" was finished, titled, & posted on 2.18.09.

fines & lines

Tender bruises. Bitter pain. Somewhat enjoyable to touch.
Trailer "trash." Loves to go home. Her heart is there.
Crumpled flowers. Once alive & beautiful. Now dead. Still beautiful.
Music blasting. Loud enough to rip the sky. Hurts so good.

They don't want you to know it

but there may be

a fine line


b e t w e e n


fines & lines.