
you are the poem

a bipolar life
i love you
fills an empty heart,
it rattles around
the chambers
holding on to
the promise of
never ending
and
unrelenting
passion,
cries out
in painful gasps
struggling to breathe
through the dust
left in the
atrophied muscle
glb /// “i love you”
originally published 03/08/2019
my words are dying
for a muse,
hoping to get through
to someone that
might not even be
listening
my words are longing
for a touch
in places that
haven’t been touched
in so long
my words are trying
to break through
your defenses
hoping you will see
me for what i am
just a boy
in love
with a girl
glb /// “my words”
originally published 02/23/2019
you are the sounds
i expect to hear
as soon as the room
goes quiet
an aural pathway
built between
my ear
my brain
my heart
you are the words
on my lips
poised to speak
in muted tones
of longing
of loving
of grace
glb /// “untitled #507”
originally published 11/25/2014
attempting to relate the story to something in my every day life
“it’s like going to the corner market for milk and coming back with
a can of SPAM and two pickles”
but it doesn’t measure up, nothing ever will, so you don’t try again
you just settle back in your chair and watch the snow fall on the
street and sidewalk and cars
but you do try again, there’s no way you can’t
trying to start a fire in the gas fireplace is an exercise in futility,
as a distraction from your problems it is the worst example,
you just twist a knob and press a button, no need for kindling
and matches and such
if only you could “whoomp” away your worries that easily, there
would be a fireplace in every room, endlessly burning for your
creativity
putting on sandals and heading outside for an icy walk on the
driveway gets you half way to the mailbox before your toes
turn blue, look at the weather, no postman is coming today
this was an exercise in futility
there is nothing you can do that will measure up to the way
you felt when you were with her, your ordinary with her is more
extraordinary than anything you can experience without her
glb /// “attempting to relate the story to something in my every day life”
originally published 01/29/2014
this is where it starts
in a light flooded room
with no windows
with no doors
i stand in the middle
there is no shadow cast
come sing with me
that song without words
that rhymes with anything
we can think to say
come draw on the walls
strange shapes in neon
dinosaurs and cats
play happily in the fountain
come read that book
ten thousand lines long
with pages made
of crinoline from your skirt
it ends abruptly
words fade to silence
the fountain goes dry
the book disintegrates
you are gone too
i am left wanting
in the glaring light
there is no way out
only deepening confusion
about my reality
glb /// “reality”
originally published 10/26/2013