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"Posthumous Glory" (to be published in the upcoming Another Paris, 2020)
Seems we're only young in the past, looking back
seems we always had all the things we once lacked
seems the gold of the bygone is long overdue
when the people we were are not who we once knew
seems our peak that we speak of in valentine tongues
is the sum of our hopes for our heights from day one
when the magic we had is not what it all means
when the when we remember is not what it seems
"Lost Boy" (from Breaking the Moon, 2017)
Are you found? Are you found?
You've been floundering around
And they say that you've been lost
And that you're not worth the cost
For what it's worth, a paper trail
could never hail the way back home
Are you grown? Are you mad?
Since they say you've lost your mind
And that you're not worth the time
And the climb just ends in glass
On this mass of land that never
sees a change within its weather
Are you lost? Are you found?
You've been floundering around
"Breaking the Moon" (from Breaking the Moon, 2017)
In riding the wave
and halting the yearn
in lighting the fire
that's already burned
in words overturned
lies rumpled desire
with hearts on a pyre
with meaning depraved
in waiving the fee
and seizing the day
the glimpses of flashbacks
seem destined to stay
with one blistered bride
with one godless groom
the ripples don't stop
when breaking the moon
"Je téléphone au téléphone" (as-of-yet unpublished!) [Language: French]
Je téléphone au téléphone
car du silence j'en ai assez
Dans le vide je parlerai
en t'exaltant je me détrône
Cette longueur d'onde, c'est où je suis
En t'attendant je gâche ma vie
même si la sonnerie retentit
c'est le silence qui m'assourdit
Car nos couronnes sont asynchrones
je téléphone au téléphone
ne savant pas ce qu'il faut dire
pour pouvoir te retenir
"Parole imperiture" (as-of-yet unpublished!) [Language: Italian]
parole imperiture
che si trovano da sole
che non vogliono dire niente
sulla lingua sono impresse
ma sono già state commesse
queste frodi di conversazione
che sii partito senza ragione
in ogni stagione ti voglio di più
in silenzio mi assordi tu, solo tu
con parole che rimangano quando via andrai
parole che non ti ho detto mai
"De dorul sunetului" (from The Anthology, 2015) [Language: Romanian]
L-am afișat pe ușă
Și am așteptat un
un răspuns
dar vocea care aude
nu vorbește
că e surdă
Tot am crezut că poate
Conexiunea nu s-a stricat
Dar tot în întuneric
Am înfipt ce-am învățat
Și cunoștiințele mele
Totuși toate s-au zvârlit
Din afara vederei ochiului
Care simte tot ce simt
Și totuși nu se poate -
Tras din lapte, toți din tram
Vai de mine și de mine,
Ce-am să fac eu fără tine
Spun ei toți, că e mai bine
Stând în geam, ce am și ce n-am
D-aia fac avertisment
Pentru limba care știe
Se mai duc două, trei zile
Fără milă, mai corect
Că de n-ar fi nu s-ar mai spune
Trec din lume-n altă lume
Stau la ușa de pe Marte
Orbi la poartă, acum vă văd.
"Red Roller" (from Collateral Damage, 2015)
Red roller skates,
I'd like to know
how far you'd go
in summer heat
Get coffee-fueled,
let's rule the road
and vultures know,
watch you to fall
Rolling through town,
get that top down
it seems so sweet
tears of a clown
Well, no more tears
No safety gear
I'll put you on
and stay right here
Excerpt, Chaos in the Subway (2012)
"At that moment, the door opened suddenly with a whoosh, and I finally got my proper dose of medicine. Oh, it was infectious. It was undeniable. It was unbelievable. And it was just barely naughty; just wrong enough to feel right; just my type.
I never really will forget the first time I heard jazz."
Excerpt, As the Tide Rises (2012)
"Sometimes," he said, "sometimes it's not us. Sometimes it's where life sticks us. In this time, in this place, there is no time and there is no place, and as the tide rises, another soul is lost somewhere. It's not murder," he whispered, "it's bringing those souls back to a place where they have some meaning."
"The House in the Distance" (from Until Eighteen, 2010)
It's a little white house with
little blue shutters and
little pink flowers all about.
With its little brick chimney and
little doormat, it stands lone,
yet strong and still stout.
It's a little white house that
I've not seen before,
yet I feel as though
it's an old friend.
"Oh, hello, how are you?
You remember me too?
How we said we'd be friends till the end?"
It's a little white house that
I must pass on by,
must keep walking alone
through these fields.
Yet this little white house
inconspicuously sits,
unaware of the feelings it yields.
It's a little white house, getting
smaller each day
as my life drags me on and on.
I'll just never forget
that little white house...
Now it's smaller
and smaller
and gone.
"Reflection" (from I Will Be There, 2007)
I am being taken
away from home
being forced
against my will
to move on,
to roam.
I lose my grasp
on my family
My home's now but a
line in the horizon -
as far as I can see.
Hope seems lost, but wait! -
New skills could save me -
just maybe -
perhaps? -
My brain restores from its lapse,
and so, for now, perhaps,
That little flame of hope -
all hidden inside my heart -
Continuously flickers,
and flickers continuously.
I've crossed a line, a border
That nobody of my kind has passed.
I feel strange, yet pleased -
my words I can weave -
I can express myself at last.
My poetry is mine -
to cherish, to keep.
My feelings no longer whine,
myself, I no longer weep.
I am glad
no longer sad -
my feelings I can scarce contain
In the present I remain,
still as a rose -
yet what lies ahead,
nobody knows.