ANAHEIM I'M NOT

oh, anaheim, i’m not
mad at your bad hats
and your primitive taste –
i can relate

to our america whose broad
freedoms grant us rights
to big bottoms and
all-we-can feed on.
i, too, was once a wanton

appetite zombie clinging
to my mommy – but
i grew up, threw up,
pushed back from that

gluttony. oh, america, how far
away are we from maturity?

ON FAITH

we find ourselves,

toes at the edge

of some possibly

next big something –

a precipice of maybe

meaning, maybe no-

thing – and we imagine

actually leaping, our moment-

arily weight-

less selves finally

free of notions

of identity and frozen in

air as if there was a chance

we could just rest there.

BECAUSE

love doesn’t need
religion or anything else.

it lives inside
each of us waiting to be

let out like a breath
or a hug. don’t get caught
up in mourning or regret.

because

life isn’t done
with us yet.

get on with it.

WHAT I CAN’T BEAR

it’s not the pain
i am entitled to.

it’s the pain
i feel unworthy

of. the pain i don’t
deserve to claim

as my own. the pain
that echoes

down through
generations. a pain

that was never mine
alone. the pain

that is stronger than any
i’ve ever known. it’s the pain

of thirst, for love, that is
empty like life is,
and heavy, and hurt-

ful as a smooth river
stone, thrown by some
dull david whose goliath
looms with projected
menace, intentions unknown.