Wednesday, November 5, 2014

Grave Digger

I have a rude habit

Of digging graves of foes

And tumbling in myself

Sprinkling the loose dirt on my legs

In defeat

Sometimes I dig this grave

And offer new light

Laying my past to rest

I plant a seed

To flourish and blossom

Over what was long dead to me

Wednesday, October 22, 2014


My brother is what you call
A selective listener
Constantly glued to the computer screen
As if it was a necessary element to his existence
“WHA…” he shrieks
Whipping his head around
To see if his name was mentioned
Unaware of the intensity of his voice
It was nothing concerning him
But it wouldn’t matter anyway
For his attention slips
Before you can give

An answer

Wednesday, October 15, 2014

The Storm Drain

So much depends

A small storm

Flooded with street

Beside the crumbling



Spine of the book turns bowed
Where the readers cherish and savor
Spine of the book stays rigid

Where the readers ridicule and debase

Sunday, September 29, 2013

Thoughts for Mom on her Birthday

On a typical day
Happiness is over looked
It’s just something
That you’re bound to see again
Nothing to dwell on
But sometimes
We barely realize what things
Actually do make us

Like cracking an egg
With perfect precision
Or jumping off those last
Few steps in the morning
Stepping on crunchy leaves
Knocking something over
And then catching it “like a ninja”
I love knowing the right spot to scratch
On my dog to make him dance
The smell of fresh bread
Or hitting that snooze button
Even though you know you shouldn’t
The delicate craft of eating the last bite on a Popsicle
And eating the last bit
From the bottom of the chip bag
I love lying in bed and listening to the rainfall
Or helping a worm cross the street

And what if this is happiness
A slow distribution
Of these tiny acts
And maybe now you’ll stop
And be happy
And catch up on your list
Of small

Happy Birthday, Mom

              Love, Alex