the time between pulling the trigger and the arrival of the bullet needs examination 

they force open water channels to trickle out and quench stranded thoughts

I wait in a dark car while my child babysits in a  strange house 

they are the only meaningful thing I have learned 

because because because because because 

my hand and my mind are sometimes one 

I can hide them in the Sylvia Beach Hotel

I mean what I write but not what I say 

I only see silhouettes behind curtains

life is short but epitaphs last forever

my thoughts are three minutes long

words are as important as thoughts 

I like the sound of scratching mice 

time and money hold no meaning 

they ease pain and quell laughter

my brain is more linear on paper 

I was once kicked out for a poet 

I have no one only my thoughts

it is the only afterlife I will know 

my mind has trained my words

life is long, my poems are not 

stillness precipitates them out

I only have to say it one time 

poems are the painted letter

they do not mature with age 

they cement new memories

I do not care if they are lost

they give meaning to paper

I read the cold truth of Buk 

love comes in many colors 

they dredge old memories

most people are abhorred 

moments must be slowed 

thoughts are too concrete 

darkness brings them on

a picture isn’t worth one

of a short attention span 

in toto that is what I am

it makes people go “ah” 

I have trained my mind

I have no one to talk to 

they are uniquely mine

I like small note books

there is never an end

Japan holds out hope 

they are my daughter

love is also undefined

I remember on paper

time has no meaning

I have nothing to say 

my mother shouldn’t 

dogs keep no secret 

I am meant to watch

that is all I have left

my pen-pal is dead 

I have no audience

I have no message 

I fall through floors

I want Betty proud

I want to be alone 

my brothers won’t 

they feed my soul

I care not for wills

they aren’t bound 

life induces them

they fill the sheet

they are succinct

that is how I see

poems do not lie

I have a day job 

they include me

life is not lyrical

they go unread 

I tire of smiling

my father can’t 

I am excluded

they can burn

I have no ego 

they travel

I can