Sometimes I like the lines of my own poetry

I’m waiting for your car to arrive,

2 hours and counting, but right now I’ll bet its sitting in your driveway

Warming in the sun, I wonder if it gets bored with the scenery,

If it notices the changing petals,

if it pants in an exhausted way

All the exhaust away

-From "Concerted Concerns"

There is a river or harbor

perhaps you ferried across one day as a child with your

father, perhaps your strolled along

the banks as a teen with your friends, each daring another

to do dumb exciting things, dangerous exciting things. Perhaps

as a young adult, your lover took you there, kissed you

there, took you there.

-from "Your City"

Recount the gut organ’s shifting, caused by strained faces just before the words too hard to bear,

or the new places in their chests that suddenly existed when previous spaces couldn’t contain the explosions of joy that threatened to tear,

as beat skipped and lungs forgot their automatic and unending roles.

For aren’t these moments, the real moments rather than the virtuous behaviors often extolled.

-From "For Luke Chrisco"