They say that you have to release your wishes into the universe so that the universe knows what you want. Therefore, I am putting my birthday wish out there. I want to give TMW5T the poetry journal I have written him (for his birthday every year) and have finally completed (I ran out of pages)Continue reading “My birthday wish”
The years have grown longer but your smiles have become stronger, more filled with contentment and surprised wonder. You have built these blessings, brick by brick, stone by stone. and now stand before the well-made foundation that is your hearts most cherished dream. These moments become you. Happy Birthday. Thank you for being born. YouContinue reading “Anu”
Even the sweaty and disheveled you is loved, for that is you in your honest face. The parts of you that end up on the cutting room floor are the bits of you that I gather up and press sweetly into poetry books and journals, to remind me, that you are also a person everyContinue reading “Just be you,”
Every year I write you a poem for your birthday, so here it is, this years birthday present: Present #1 That Dragon Look That look of yours direct, piercing, and searing. It straightens out my spine with sudden alertness. Makes me ever so conscious of the rips in my jeans, the spot on my shirt,Continue reading “Happy Birthday TMW5T!”
Happy Birthday!!🎁💐🎂 Here is your present: A breeze is also a breath A cool breeze to clear cobwebs and reveal forgotten shades of color. A soft breeze to uncurl thoughts and gently foster growing dreams. A warm breeze to spark inspiration and set fire to tomorrow’s ambition. A breeze is also a breath ————- CloseContinue reading “Dear Man with 5 Typewriters,”
Wishing On Another Lucky Star J.D. Souther Your friends may lie The truth can come from strangers If I knew why, We wouldn’t be in this danger Leaning out the window of my car And wishing on another lucky star. Life is long It is not made to measure You will go on The sameContinue reading “Dear Man with 5 Typewriters”
I love that you have 5 typewriters. 4 is not enough and 6 is too many. I love that you like the written word, but are fully aware of the horrors of (our shared) left-handed reality. I like that you absolutely refuse to admit to liking something 100% because there are others things and..Continue reading “Dear Man with 5 Typewriters,”
It’s personal. Therefore, I am quietly protective and disinclined to explain myself to anyone. I don’t do surface. I like things that have more to them. People who have more inside them than outside them. People who have scars, and demons, and stories that you have to earn the telling of. People who think longContinue reading “I have a favorite person”
I don’t just like the best bits of you. I like the bits that don’t fit into your closet. The bits you cringe over. Those bits are also you, and I like them because they are faults, and you don’t like them..which means you are aware of them. I like that you take your hatContinue reading “Dear Man with 5 Typewriters, January 15, 2017”
That expression. It saves my sanity. Though, the snapshot is quite candid. It saves me. Reminds me of things worth shining for. Causes a soft smile. 1 million photographs but only 1 you. 1 million expressions all of them a gift. but…that expression that particular one unrehearsed and quietly human. That one, I shall keep.Continue reading “Pianissimo”
These are your presents: A Poem and a drawing of you as a puppy (note the extremely accurate expression)
He is his own typewriter, words overlapping, anxious to be pages, in a well-thumbed story; re-told like a prayer, felt like an expletive. His hands tap his thigh. Keys making contact. Paper emerging from the line of fire, greatly changed, but proud of its, well-earned, type-face stripes.
It was so dead at work that they let me go home early. I also got a lift home from one of my co-workers. I have a whole extra 2 hours before I have to get to bed for opening shift tomorrow. I feel decadent. All day I thought on something I saw online thisContinue reading “Man of Tai Chi”
I like the way you stand relaxed, yet, vulnerable. Your body taking up a space I’d like to occupy; to look into your unguarded gaze and dimple my smile, happy just to stand crookedly with you.
This is my new favorite photo of Anu. It is just he, being himself. Awesome. He is my favorite person. Notice I did not say Celebrity. He is my favorite person. I call him Anu as a secret giggle. As in, “Ok…Anu” What? I am being sincere. I like him. When he runs his handsContinue reading “Never stop being you”
If I die from lack of oxygen it is all Keanu Reeves’s fault. I have never laughed so hard in my freaking life. http://www.funnyordie.com/videos/9a61ddd09f/interrogations-gone-wrong-keanu-reeves-arrested-interrogated-and-really-pissed-off This is just wonderful. Try saying Keanu is emotionless now people. I am keeping this for the really bad days. He is the best straight man ever. “I’m Keanu Reeves” Yes,Continue reading “It’s all Keanu’s fault I can’t breathe right now”
The shadows are my favorite on a walking night. Dark and light mingling in some strangely beautiful vision I cannot look away from without a winsome sigh. and some slight longing for remembered days gone past, where the memory of your fingers intertwined with the impatience of my youth.
Dear Keanu, I happened upon an article online, that kinda annoyed me. It talked about your love life, your acting, your manner while being interviewed, as well as a host of other things meant to make fun of you or examine you like a frog on a table in science class. They even went soContinue reading “Open Letter to Keanu Reeves”
Wander sideways. Slip like paper into the in-between and follow the scent of lemon and cinnamon. Let your bare feet find the pattern of the wood. Toes making like riptide. Salty sea air in your hair. Lie close to my skin and breathe the calm in. Find the peace in cutoffs and tangled fingers. LetContinue reading “On the edge with you”
You are not soft pattern. There are no simplistic stitches in your make-up. You have the kind of soul that makes seamstresses toss their hands into the air and themselves onto the floor in a fit of embroidery and frustration.