After A Day

I didn’t know how
to stop the conflict,
so I got out of the car
and walked up the road,
it was dirt, and the evening
was getting on, and there
were many beautiful grasses
growing in the summer dusk,
and there were things changing
all around us, and inside of us
and as the sun was setting,
we drove home in silence,
where we sat together on
the couch, under a knit
blanket and touched
limbs until bedtime,
falling toward the
soft knowing that
wraps the only
thing that
matters.

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Jedi

On the day you get into your first fight,
you tell me that now you understand
Darth Vader, how he reached
his tipping point,
and never came back,

and how the dark thing
welled up inside you
until you shoved harder than you ever knew you could,
how the other boy flew
three whole sidewalk squares,

and with the red blood
still wet on your lip, you apologized to the boy,
before the front desk buzzed me in
to gather you up, you had already
found your way

toward your own peace.  So together
we clean quietly the beginnings
of this new and storied scar,
Darth Vader never came back, you say,
but I’m a good person,

so I’ll recover.

Falling Star

Just as this bed faces the window now,
just like we turn toward the night
where lace curtains hang like they’ve always hung
since people first learned how to hide.

Just like I want to turn toward you,
or how sometimes I might go inside
when you get home so late and I’m looking away,
still the words that you say, and the way that you say,

and the hands that you lay, the space just melts away.

Look how it’s all been forgotten,
how we all forgot something again,
we are trying to grow up and we’re trying to grow old,
and we find ourselves right where we’ve been

before, there were so many answers
from the suit men erupting like fires,
so we stand in the face of the answer man
and the smoke and the jokes and the liars,

and the forests are burning like pyres.

Just as I need to turn toward you now,
just like your arms hold me tight,
and we make a new verse to replace this old curse
for the poets who’ve shown us the light.

See how I’m learning the same thing again,
and this might always be how it goes,
so we do it all over, except this time it’s better,
and the night comes again, and the light comes again,

thought I’d walked through this door, then discover there’s more.

In a moment last night, in the dust of a dream,
a vision through half sleepy eyes,
but real as the truth, or the words that you say,
or the voices of those who will rise.

With love on our side, between curtains flung wide,
a star cuts the sky like a knife
with a trail so bright it erases the night
as the mountain erupts like a fire,

and the heat of it burns like a choir.