Two Lane Road

Heading down a two lane road
Hemmed in by a painted yellow line.
On the way to where I’m going,
If I ever get there at all.

Headlights stare at me
From the other side,
Going where I’ve already been.
What will they find there
That I never did?

And a bend in the concrete
Makes us both alone again,
Winding our ways home
To a place we’ve never been
Or nowhere we’ll ever find.

It’s the last leg of a road trip
I didn’t even know I was taking.
It just started, like an idea
Rolling around in the back of my head.

Where signposts offer sympathy
I take no notice of,
Not even the rusted warnings
Of what lies in wait

Around a bend in the concrete
Where I’m alone,
Winding my way home
To somewhere I’ve only thought about
Or to the place I’ve been searching for all along.

© 2017 Wasted Space Publishing

Bones of My Heart

You know, Momma, don’t you?
You know I love you deep down to the bones of my heart.

You know
The summer mornings with the back door open,
The bedtime nights folded in words,
And rainy days when I ran away,
Don’t you?

You know
The sharp looks in the rearview,
The last stand defenses,
Lasting long after I left,
Don’t you?

You know, Momma, don’t you?
You know I love you with the heart you made in me.

© 2015 Wasted Space Publishing

Bastille Eleven

Explosions of light dying in falling embers.
Swirls of manufactured ashes flickering.
Faces uplifted to the prescience in the sky.

In a mass for the dead delivered by the dying.
In an eulogy for the lost prepared by the perishing.
A macabre dance in sifting cinders.

Binding future facts to everlasting evidence.

© 2015 Wasted Space Publishing

Not Forgotten

Upon the path are many wonders.
Some I feared.
Some I treasure still.
But most I have forgotten.

Only half way through the journey
did I find what mattered most.
It joined me early in my walk.
Stayed with me patiently
until I understood its meaning.
Never leaving when I wandered off
upon a broader path.

It is still there, forever there.
And I have not forgotten.

© 2010 Wasted Space Publishing

The Crooked Path

God sees out,
our future predestined.
But it is a crooked path,
changed by freewill.

For in heaven the view
is more than mere mortals see.
Destiny, interwoven
with the choices of men.

© 2011 Wasted Space Publishing


soothing escape into happiness,
with brighter skies on brand new time.

no harsh confinement in loneliness,
or brooding storms obscuring ominous lies.

in a flash of the mind,
new awareness.
in windswept horizons of primeval terrain,
new consciousness.

like a blossom of omnipotence.
the infinity of finite time.

© 2010 Wasted Space Publishing

and weary, too.

Restless is my mind, and weary, too.
Eaten up by the things of this world,
Searching for refuge from the eternal storm
Raging in the unsatisfied soul of man.

For there is no knowledge in man.
So I must trust instead an offer everlasting.
What man seeks is not wisdom.
So I will obey instead what is from the beginning.

And the heart of God stills then the waters
I could not calm through the searches of my soul.
Tranquil now is my mind, and clearing, too.
Filled with the glory of an awakened world

And a world to come.

© 2010 Wasted Space Publishing

Think About Me

Think about me when you wake up in the morning.
Think about me on your way to work.
Think about me when I’m right there with you,
Just like I think about you.

Think about me when your day is over.
Think about me when you’re ready for bed.
Think about me in your dreams,
Just like I think about you.

Maybe by the way I act sometimes,
you can’t tell how much I think about you.

Maybe I hide behind the way I act sometimes,
Because I never know if you’re thinking about me, too.

© 2011 Wasted Space Publishing

My Little Girl

Thirsting for you,
lost in the weeds
of what life is becoming.

Longing to quench
the little, dry disappointments
of a day to day without ending.

Unable to dredge you from the depths
of decisions that have already been made.

Unable to reclaim the drops of time
before they evaporate away.

Hoping to glimpse your sail
far across this vast ocean
separating the world.

Thirsting for you,
my little girl.

© 2014 Wasted Space Publishing