my brain and
heart divorced

a decade ago

over who was
to blame about
how big of a mess
I have become

eventually,
they couldn't be
in the same room
with each other

now my head and heart
share custody of me I stay with my brain
during the week

and my heart
gets me on weekends

they never speak to one another

- instead, they give me
the same note to pass
to each other every week

and their notes they
send to one another always
says the same thing:

"This is all your fault"

I recorded this poem in 2017 from my New York City hotel room bathroom. My wife was asleep after a long day of sightseeing-but I found myself very awake.

Earlier in the day we visited Ground Zero in NYC and the experience left a deep mark on my heart. In the middle of the relentlessly noisy and dynamic city was this quiet and sacred place where hundreds of people were gathered to reflect on what happened on that terrible day in September.

A Christmas prayer
amid a raging world

#poetry #poetrycommunity
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cover the tree with ornaments
wrap your home with blinking red lights
make a plate of fat chocolate chip cookies
and then pray that Santa makes all of his flights the Yuletide specters have formed a choir
and they’re singing outside your of door;
a couple of songs of a hope that’s born again
and a lovelyullabu about the end of all war

My son was diagnosed with Autism 16-years ago. At the time he was non-verbal and living with serious cognitive delays. The doctors told us he would likely never be able to live independently.

Yesterday was his last day of High School. He is off to The University Of Wyoming. This is the slow boil lesson Noah has taught me over the course of his journey with autism:

autism doesn't mean broken

it means "Incandescent smile."
it means "Courage beyond measure."
it means "Watch this!"
it means "Don't you dare doubt me.”

the prophets are
acting so
damned smug

there’s no living with them

they were right

this is it

the world is ending the windows are shaking
the sun is swelling
the china is rattling
the ground is splitting apart
the sky is falling
the sirens are blaring
the geese are fleeing

the plans we wrote out in
detail on onion skin paper
have caught on fire

my love,

please wake up,

I know the sun
isn't up yet

but please come with me

I have a miracle that
I have to show you

bring a coat

but leave your shoes

I don't think the miracle
will happen unless you
can feel the wet
grass between
your toes please wake up,

I know that it's hard
to get out of bed

but get up,
I found a miracle
that you need to see

I know that trust in me
has been a slippery
rail to hold on to

but get up,
I found a miracle
that you need to see

haven't been able to write for a week because I had a piece in my head that I really didn't want to write. It was stuck in my brain like a popcorn kernel in between a couple of teeth. I kept trying to put off writing it but I couldn’t. The whole thing haunted me 24/7. It became clear that I couldn't move onto anything else until I finally wrote it out. I sat down at three hours ago and agonized over every line.

Normally when I struggle to write something I never ever share it with the world because it's usually a mess.

A thread on my experience of being an author.

As an author I thought I’d be jet setting around the globe talking with readers about how my book changed their life.

I imagined that my book would be so highly regarded that each copy would have to be handled with velvet gloves My book was made to be a diva. It was going to have it’s own dressing room whenever we went on tour together.

Oprah would quickly become best friends with my book. They would set up a joint Instagram account that would captive the world.