What Does it Mean? 

I've been writing poetry in the dark
no candles, no spark of incandescent 
just tracing the lines of words from 
rote memory 

pain is raw and visceral; I told a friend
an open wound all to real to go unnoticed 
some are repulsed by the guts bleeding out of my chest
some have compassion 

I was driving into work in the still morning dark
I saw before me the brightest, largest 
shooting star I have ever seen
fall right in front of me 
this is a light pollluted suburb, no backwoods UP; I'm no egoist to think it's just for me, but why and what does it mean? 

Made a wish in haste then crossed myself 
I ask a friend like you would ask a poet about a poem
a poet who wrote in the dark on a cool summer morning, in the parking lot, in a work truck.
What does it mean? 

 Every Sun That Sets

Someone said,

"Music is everything"

well, it's a charade

but it sure felt that way

when I was on stage

I felt like super 

man and look at

my empty hands

now

you fell in love with me

but I'll be damned if I return the favor

cold world 

and I still expect blood

a cool girl like a soft,

snow laden, slope

ski lift take me 

to the top of

my dreams 

of painted nails

and a flat belly tight

red dress long brunette 

hair and sometimes a man

really gets his money's worth

the acid reflux

of regret hurts

but what's worse 

is a missed shot

growing pains

make the man

and is there really

a mosaic in Ravenna 

of a whore reformed

in a temple, across from her: a self made man 

that I thought I could be, Katie invited me to save her, but sometimes i wonder if it wasn't just a movie and now I reel in absurdity looking at our beautiful promiscuity 

every sun that sets 

rises again.