August 16, 2015 (the voice of sorrow)

Church has just ended.
I return home, emptiness.
Summer is ending.

November 22, 2015 (the voice of anger)

Answers promised now.
Choices made, your voice manic.
Long fall night won’t end.

Today (the voice of trust)

It’s a year later.
I’m learning to love again.
Spring promises found.

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Since I wrote the "O and Pain" poem, O has been through a lot.

The broken growth plates have failed to heal.

His bone marrow is infected, and he has a picc line inserted so he can get antibiotics injected at home.

He has cellulitis in several spots and will need skin grafts.

His leg is in a brace to keep the broken parts from getting more broken.

O asks when he will be able to walk ...

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The day after I wrote my poem about chronic pain, I went to Children’s Hospital Los Angeles with my girlfriend to visit a young friend of ours from church. He is 8 years old and his name is O.

O is a boisterous kid. He always talks to my 2 year old son, telling everyone “there’s Baby James!” He plays with James, and is nice to all the other kids, too. His birth family is of Mixtec origins from ...

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My pain is a reminder,

A reminder of the joy of being free from fear,

Of being young,

Of the roar of motors being pushed to their limits.

We were warriors,

Racing for trophies

Or maybe a few bucks here and there,

But almost none of us made it.

And now I am broken,

Carrying scars

And pins

And pain.

But how can I let go of the pain?

It is part of who ...

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As we go out into the world,

leaving this sanctuary behind for another week,

may we keep our hopes and dreams with us at all times.

May we keep our determination to make this world a better place.

May we keep the light of the chalice alive in our hearts.

May we be the light.

Go with peace,

Go with justice,

Go with hope in your hearts.

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Hello!!!!

Have good day.

I hope,

that you remember me

because I have written to you recently

on a dating site

and you

answered me.

I am sorry,

I did not write to you back at once.

You see,

I live in Russia,

and I was busy,

organizing

all my preparations for travel.

You know,

it is my first time when I try the correspondence

with the ...

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In the dark,

Absolute dark,

Of the basement apartment

Of a friend of mine

And yours

I lie

Half awake

In a post-club stupor

Brought on by

Gin and weariness

Ears ringing slightly

But still hearing your breathing

And hers.

An odd situation

To say the least.

My arm

Draped across

Your waist,

Hands touching

Fingers intertwined

(occasionally)

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Greetings!

I'm not sure if our first blog post should be an intro of this sort, but whatever. I'll post some poems in a bit.

Here's what I wrote in my bio for the profile (as required):

I am a graduate of UC Santa Barbara's literature program at the College of Creative Studies. I hated poetry in college oh so many years ago.

I spent many years as a cog in the wheel of the corporate mac...

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