Bones to Cartilage 

Alone after her day
cradles her third glass
tagged by friends this time
she understands control

cut love from your head
it doesn’t belong there anyways
paste it to your heart even though
it hurts as much as they say

pick ideas like I pick my skin
it leaves scars where my worry lives
distorted close ups turn life left
in the mirror

limits on lower lips
grasped by spotted teeth
pierced drips of frustration
tinted memories turned vignette

melt into your couch
drink to accessorize you
deserve it after a long week
on your screen that’s made your
weak bones relax to cartilage 

his hand on her skin
where backs arch free
to park myself in your skin.

Advertisements

Don

In her sleeves drowned
bees drift in freeze dried hair
Someday fear will come
she will not die when it’s fair

When words fester 
chaos can be counted on
to show up dressed as grief
Curled into sleepless nights

under your sleeping bagged eyes
uncomfortably restricted thoughts
tossed dreams against your lashes

As she begins to absorb your passion
clarity and strength
emboldened in hilarity 
honoured to carry you
under her eyes
sleep well
wise friend.

Arm Hairs

Under the yellow moon
shadows are mistaken for life
our heartbeats set a marching tune
leading us to exposed, fatal heights

We stand on the edge arms raised
palpable darkness arrests our bodies
In alignment without praise 
our  arm hairs whisper love stories

And when they turn to hold eachother
of course  they’re already falling
emboldened by stars as their cover
Like entwined comets exhaling

On the road

Conditions
on the road to your heart
like lightning in the dark
electrified at a glance
inky thumps drive rhythmic rain
and the wipers as the storm
presses cold fingers
against the window.

Conditions
on the road to your heart
are snow drift lined sunny skies
and even with sunglasses on
to fight glaring realities
breaks are still applied unnecessarily
there is a skid before tires scream
into a lazy spin towards the ditch.

Conditions
on the road to your heart
slow down for construction
with miles of hearts lined up
not committed to being a part of anything,
content to be alone and frustrated
by the lack of forward momentum.
A familiar ache to get
where you’re supposed to be
at the right time
for the right thing to happen.

Conditions
on the road to your heart
alone in the dark with headlights
following to close from behind,
making the way forward unclear
and no matter what speed you go
you can’t shake the feeling
you might be going
the wrong way.

Conditions

Conditions
on the road to your heart
like lightning in the dark
electrified at a glance
left with the thumping rhythm of the rain
and the wipers as the storm
presses cold fingers
against the window.

Conditions
on the road to your heart
are snow drift lined sunny skies
and even with sunglasses on
to fight glaring realities
breaks are still applied unnecessarily
there is a skid before tires scream
into a lazy spin towards the ditch.

Conditions
on the road to your heart
slow down for construction
with miles of hearts lined up
not committed to being a part of anything,
content to be alone and frustrated
by the lack of forward momentum.
A familiar ache to get
where you’re supposed to be
at the right time
for the right thing to happen.

Conditions
on the road to your heart
alone in the dark with headlights
following to close from behind,
making the way forward unclear
and no matter what speed you go
you can’t shake the feeling
that you might be going
the wrong way.

Bubbles on the Rocks

I thought I would know
after high school on a plane to Calgary
tears hidden inside my bucket hat
further then I’d ever been from friends and family

I thought I would know
when I met folks kinda like me
fuelled my search with beer and cigarettes
just like everyone I leaned on to see

All I really know
as my hair turns grey I get glimpses of me
but she says things I can’t understand
so I sabotage her with bubbles on the rocks

I thought I would know
when I got married
When I had children
a house, a car, two cats
Things that define what it means to be a grown up

All I really know
is some of that is me
and when I listen to the voice
that guides my pen, my feet and my knife
I notice the love I have
for the love in my privileged life

And I’ll take it all
With bubbles on the rocks