We are all 
alone each and 
every day alone
oh we try 
to deny or
convince or persuade 
ourselves that we
are not but
we are and 
we try hard 
to deny that 
even when coupled 
we are alone 
we are always 
alone with ourselves 
and these brief
moments when we’re 
with others have 
never and will 
never change that 
they are amusements 

Peace is
that’s it
that’s all
it’s empty
and absent 
and quiet
it’s a
pond in 
the middle 
of nowhere 
rarely seen 
hardly heard 
never lost 

Some things 
aren’t pairable
says the 
parable but
are pawnable
for some 
people will 
buy anything 
especially when 
it comes 
with a 
song and 
dance said
the organ 
grinder’s monkey 

The present is the 
place of possibility it’s 
not this narrow lane 
bookended by the vastness 
of past and future 
oh no no the 
present is where all 
things can might and 
always will come true 
and those two others 
simply hold onto what 
once had been and
what might never be 

Now well rested
I see the 
world and its 
beauty once again 
like I’ve wiped
away a wave 
of slushy grime 
from the window
of my car 
seeing that it 
just so happens 
to be spring