Sunday, January 27, 2008


We walked under a moon
painfully bright
leaving footsteps where before
there were none
only the
we knew to have long frozen to death
and here we stopped
made fire
under a rock spire where
1000s of years ago
Christians made their homes
straight into stone
we drank wine
and were at peace with this world

Saturday, January 5, 2008

this is not poetry

I stepped outside a little bit late
so me and my Chesterfield
watched the city lights
burn away the smog
while the rooftops
and smokestacks set into the night