Wired For It


I Write Her


Roughly translated from German:

Music is love.

     It can laugh with me.
     It can cry with me.
     It can bring together what was once separated.

Music can tell me what lips are afraid to say.

Music can bring back what I lost.

Music alone therefore is chosen.

Margarete Kernbach is my grandmother on my mother’s side. I found this parchment with her words following my mother’s death in 2012. It was among the things she left behind, very simply preserved in a plastic frame. I never knew my Oma wrote poetry. Nor do I know if this was the only poem or if there were ever any other writings by her. I only know of this one.

Discovering this little poem ties me to my grandmother in a profound way, at least for me it does. Not that I realized it at that moment though. I…

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Foundation of Dreams



With deliberate intention, the goal was to devour thousands of words. He reveled in the delicious anticipation of cerebral and sentimental fulfillment. Focused and ready for some relevant adscititious information to challenge his brain’s hunger for knowledge and fantasy. The emotions of the poets forcefully laid down impressions on his mind. Hours passed immersed in the stories and written essences of others. It colored him happy. And tired. The eyes slowly closed. All the words turned to dreams of mystical sunsets with a bareback unicorn ride on the beach, hair whipping in the wild wind.

He then woke up smiling.

No More Doing Nothing


i hear you  
all your loud voices broadcast anger, frustration, desperation 
rightly so 

i see the care, empathy, and concern 
rightly so 

i’m feeling the impavid feistiness of your direction 


i can see your determination manifest change 

make that blockade of white suits bow before you 
shut down that noise in your face telling you no 
strike down the smug betrayers of your future 
ride with the forcible waves of support behind you 

and make the future we failed to give you a better place than where you’ve risen up from 

you deserve to reside there 

i love you 

Going Down


the light slowly leaving
dolor creeping into this blank space in my head
swallowed up in this ever-deepening gray haze minimizing my liveliness
pitch-blackness, my old friend, immobilizing me again
no energy, desire, motivation or strength
this thick sadness creates a loneliness where hope can’t creep in
courage oozes away
one drop after another of life leaking to somewhere it can’t return from
goals left to die in the waves of this depression
silent tears pitching between wet, heavy sobs
an aching all-encompassing deep pain leaving invisible scars
severe despondency and dejection
i doubt life can go on
it’s a reality in my head not worth living
escape from that which continually pulls me down feels impossible
this devastating extreme of the opposite of happy
it feels like i’m stolen from me
i feel over

I’m Scared


I Write Her

sad sunflower

Reaching in you’ll see it’s hard to find me.

I’m a discovery to be accessed when my psyche is at ease.

When I see you mean me no harm,

I’ll surround you like quicksand.

You’ll be immersed, enveloped by who I am.

You haven’t even begun to uncover what I want to give you.

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