The Leaf

as summer wanes
a chill comes about the air

darkness replaces sunlight
and the leaf loses it's grasp upon the branch

it cannot be blamed for its fall

god's will
is sometimes
death

The Blend of an Era

he remembers the grapes
as they would vine through his blood
like galaxies looking for a home

welcomed with a kiss from his always purple lips

stars tickled his heart
and he was able to rest

a god
pleased with the universe he had created

A Finicky Appetite

it's there when nothing else is
but the radio and a near crippling sense of hopelessness

it climbs around on the walls 
and the ceiling
hissing like a poisonous lizard that demands to be fed

you cut the tips of your fingers and flick blood toward its
nasty
vicious little mouth

when that is not enough
you look in the fridge
praying to whatever god might give a shit
that there is a piece of leftover pizza
and in the cupboards for some bread

but anything you put on a plate is not enough
because it wants something fresh and warm

even your blood wasn't enough
because what it really wants is your soul

so you scream
"here you go! take it all, you fucker!"

and it smiles
and says
"i already have."

A Lumberjack Turned Piano Man

still
he saws
at the legs of his Steinway

old habits only die hard

so he tickles the ivory
cigarette
hanging from his lips

sounds of falling trees
echo in his bedroom

forests he chopped down
to find his way here

upon their bones he paints his notes

thinks of branches that fell
as he tore through their guts

calloused his fingers
and
he was left
with just splinters and dreams

now
in solitude
he writes his song

maybe someday he'll play it for us
but
unlikely

never convinced that it's finished

never certain that it is genuine

never certain that he can bare the audience

if they say
nothing
it will exasperate him

if they applaud
it will
remind him
that
they still don't understand

blood
drips rhythmically from his hands

melodies of mourning

so they remain
hidden

as the trees remain
fallen

he might
never
share his work

but
that he holds it back
to some
might be
its own music

every note picks its moment
but
every bridge becomes a stand-still

"should i cross here?"
he asks himself
"or would I be wisest to go around?"

he knows the wood
the beams are made of
and questions their strength

"if they were so easy to chop down
why should i trust in them to hold up?"

but
if
it was that hard to get here
"why should I turn back?"

but he finds
no answer

perhaps
silence
is to be his opus

every pause
a bow of the cello

every drink
a beat of the drum

he has buried himself
with a wall
and the tempo
in which
he attempts to claw himself out
is off time with the other instruments

he sighs
over the remnants of harmonies
cutting himself
with a shank carved from crescendos

only a dirge can be his fate

a lumberjack turned piano man
and wrote a song that falls in the forest

You're Gay

in third grade i confessed to my classmates that
i didn't know who Joe Montana was
because i didn't watch football

the boys were quick to emasculate me
and i was ready to punch their lights out for it

but
when Ashley MacCauliffe chimed in along with them
it knocked the fight right outta me

"you're gay" she said

i wanted so desperately to tell her that i wasn't
and in fact
wanted her to be my girlfriend

but
i didn't

instead
i clammed up
and thought myself as weak as they were telling me i was

when i got home
i ran straight to my room and cried

after the tears stopped
i dried my cheeks with my sleeves
and went downstairs to ask my gramma who Joe Montana was

The Uni(verse)

a man must find his way
to live
in the world

a poet must find his way
to let the world live
in him

Jonestown Cafe

it was the hottest new spot

on the east side
of course

and
of course
all the hipsters went there
dressed in chic ironic clothes

the house specialty was
The Jim Jones Kool-Aid

"Betcha Only Drink Just One!"
was their motto

i just ordered a tea
but most patrons opted for the lethal cocktail

THUMP
as one fell to the floor
only halfway through his New York Times crossword puzzle

THUMP THUMP
as an Art Major couple had their last date

THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP
went a party of friends after a poetry reading

hipster bodies were dropping all around me

even the barista was dead by the time i went up for some more hot water

but there was a girl sitting in the southwest corner of the cafe
drinking coffee

i went behind the counter to get my own hot water
grabbed my pen and notebook
and went over to her table

"hey, mind if i join you?"

she looked up curiously and excited
and said
"please do"

i took a chair
"my name is Danny"

"Antoinette"

"Nice! I love that name!"

she blushed and said thanks

"how long have you been hanging out here?"
i asked

"since they opened
i live just down the street
and they have the best coffee"

she asked me the same

"this is my first time here
thought it sounded different..."

THUMP
went the bass player for a local indie rock band

"...so
i thought..."

THUMP
went the drummer

"...i'd check it out"

she smiled as hipsters continued hitting the floor

"so"
she asked
"you don't drink the Kool-Aid?"

"nahh
i ain't that Kool"

she giggled
"me neither"

so we talked for a while
and by closing time
were only two of five left alive

it struck me as a poor business model

i used my body language to suggest my leaving first
because that seemed like the Kool thing to do

"hey, Antoinette
it was good meeting you
we should hang out again sometime"

"for sure"

i grabbed my phone from my pocket
"what's your phone number?"

she gave me her number
stood up to give me a hug
and i left

i texted her a couple days later
with no response

it was my day off
and despite the smell of fresh decaying hipsters
they served a damn fine tea at Jonestown Cafe

so i went 

i walked up to the new and living barista

"hey, man"
he said
"what can i get for ya?"

"hey, brotha..."
i paused for a second
"...hey,
do you know a girl that hangs out here
named
Antoinette?"

"yeeaa, man
Antoinette
was Kool,
man"

"was?"

"yeeaa, man
she was in here last night
and drank a JJKA"

"a JJKA?"

"yeeaa, man
it's our house specialty
The Jim Jones Kool-Aid"

"oh yea"

the acronym almost made me want one

he tried to entice me
"you wanna try one?
they're pretty popular"

"ahhh"
i hesitated
but decided
"nahh
i'll just have an earl grey"