You Break Me

You break me. 

When I see those moments when you're trying to be brave because you've found Your Truth and it scares you.

You break me.

When I hear the stories about your eyes seeing Beautiful for the first time born among the ugly.

You break me.

When you just can't be better because you're still growing and you're just not ready.

You break me.

When you get so frustrated and you can't look me in the face and say it.

You break me.

When your eyes like ivy towers keeping prisoner your soul.

But how nothing to do with me.
And how of my love of them.

Landfill Harmonic

I'm Home

 

I'm home. (Close, and I've gotten so used to cleaning random apartments.) I'm sitting on my brother's couch with a huge blanket wrapped all around me. And I feel so good being so cold. My fingertips froze last night in an over-sized sweatshirt my brother had given me so I can hold my beer and stand in the almost freezing weather outside the football stadium. (The boys are so distinctly Philadelphia.) Facial scruff and snow caps, big jackets, loud mouths. My daddy called me, there's gas in my car and my bed's waiting for me. Oh, what lovely things! Clean clothes and fresh shoes. Ä whole room and my backpack retires to the corner for a month. (It needs to air out.) The faces I need to see, the bodies I need to wrap my arms around! Oh, how good it feels to be home.

Saints

I arrived in a thunderstorm. I brought with me the frost. New Orleans is hauntingly silent (with sirens and horns). I almost swear I'm going to see a ghost wandering the streets instead of the living. The graveyards like little cities. But everyone seems to come alive during the night time. Over old men with their eyes closed and feet tapping. With their glasses and cigarettes burning. I'm sorry if I disappointed you. I thought you were looking for a Saint.