A submarine sinks down to the bottom of the darkest depth, but it is not sunk.
It will overcome the trench, bringing with it, articles from the bottom that we would like to examine further.
Articles from the darkest place, a place that no light has ever touched.
Be like the submarine.
Go to the dark place, all the while protected from the intense pressure.
But also, be like the submarine, do not be overcome by the dark and return to the surface with perspective.
Whatever is bad in your life,
Whatever is hurtful,
I hope goodness will come
and replace the bad things
with their counterpart in hope;
gathering up all those wrong entities
and releasing them into the ether.
The bad things will try
and make their way back
into your life. Unfortunately,
you will let them at times.
But try and remember how
light hope is to hold; like a
sweater over your shoulders
and not much more.
Hope has this soft quality too
and it helps you see clearly for
what feels like the first time.
It is like a gentle reset; a
calibration that is neither painful nor
harsh. More like fine tuning the
gears of an elaborate wrist watch.
When the wrong things cover
your field of vision, all you can see
is straight ahead. Everything is clouded;
When hope fills your eyes, things are
crisp and precise; you can see the
I want you to see into the infinite
with me. If you feel you are ready
and that you are safe, I can show you.
Go to sleep
Go to sleep
Little trazodone kids
Your dreams are calling
Whispering soft stuff
About a nice, quiet end
To self harm scars –
Replacing that bad
With cloudlike good
Go to sleep
Go to sleep
Little medicated ones
There is a day coming
When monsters like depression
Are slayed by a great warrior
One who is cloaked in light
And brings the sun
Into each new dawn
Go to sleep
Why am I here so hundred-dollar puny?
And they’re so stacked-to-the-ceiling-bundles-of-cash?
Is it cause I don’t tithe to you?
Seems to me like you got enough, feel me?
Your wealth is never ending kind –
And mine is the maybe run out tomorrow kind.
Would it be so terrible if I did inherit a small fortune? ™
Not baseball player money!
No, more like long-time plumber in a small town, money.
Name on the side of the truck, money.
Small recognition and respect, money.
Maybe I’m not the guy cause I won’t use it like you want.
Maybe other folks with short pockets and long donation lists are better.
But this – not make it past one medical bill – type money has got to go.
I’m trying to hold in all my illness.
Can’t have too many burst forth at the same time!
My mailbox would explode with bills.
I’m not too good at working, all-lending-gold-stash-in-the-sky.
I need a little help from your swimming pool coin fortune.
Your bugs bunny, cartoon money.
I have to pay my rent.
Do you want me out in the cold, all-lending-gold-stash-in-the-sky?
Kinda seems like it…
I forgive you though.
You gotta make the money go around to everybody.
But it sure seems like you’re not very even…
What do I know though.
You big time.
I’m small potatoes … and bank account (singular).
It hasn’t gotten as cold as I remember.
This time years ago, I was wearing a
double-lined, rust-colored coat from
the Duluth catalogue; matching boots
I prefer a mild winter, with enough
cold to contemplate words like “alone”
and “silence.” If we are in the habit of
preferring, I’d like my mountains snow-
covered but my black, asphalt streets
dry – with no salt to muck up the
underbelly of my truck.
Winter is a clear head; free from
summer’s buzz. All the better thoughts
have settled to the bottom; sifted.
Winter is a reflection and a state of
quiet – no longer heading, but headed.
It feels good to take in a deep,
December breath and feel complete;
like I have managed to move more than
In January, I write letters to my future self.
In December, I read them and laugh; goals
too broad in breadth. Then, calm as I wish,
revel in all the pleasant surprises, content.
My perspective is real wide now,
but my vision is like way narrow.
The word “Love” sounds like
when you shout into a bottomless well.
Well, maybe there’s a bottom,
but how would we know, ya know?
We keep seeing you everywhere.
I saw you a whole lot today in the
back of the TJ Maxx on Madison.
There were those peppermint-bark tins
that you used to get, I was gunna get Miss
a picture frame, but I couldn’t wait in the line.
You waited in every line for us.
I don’t know how ya did it.
You said every Christmas would be small,
but that was always a lie.
I don’t think you meant to lie.
I think you genuinely thought
you couldn’t pull it off some years,
but oh, man you did.
I don’t know what I’ll miss more,
your Christmas village magic –
or the thought of you waiting in all
those lines; a big smile on your face
when you began to realize … that year
was gunna be bigger than the last … again.
I stared at all your faces
Sombre, though bright alike
They came from all your places
Some drove through the night
I recited poems and sang
The worship songs you’d want
My bright guitar strings rang
Hid my tears all nonchalant
It was impossible indeed
To see your daughter cry
Our simple family creed
Is try, then give, then try
Many wished they’d’ve spoke
Too hard a thing to do
I tried to calm them with a joke
And head back laugh in lieu
In pictures, young I saw
Your face lit up with glee
God’s gift of grace and awe
For many eternity
I know I did you proud
Don’t have to wish a thing like that
Your people sang real loud
I acted as diplomat
I closed with that poem
I read to you that day
Not ever a time alone
When that poem I hear you say
When that poem kneels down to pray