Conceived and reared in New York, domesticated in Southern California. Physician, musician, husband, father and generalized procrastinator, not necessarily in t
the air, the walls, the hinges of the screen door
the hum of lights, my own broken breath
music, subtle
fingernails against skin
a tree, the sun
my spinnning conscience
your voice and "goodbye"
all of this will stay
your hair, twisting into gold
and i stumble
your eyes, punching holes in mine
i think, i speak
and it's not the same
your heat, my dream
splitting each other
and your voice is the swell in my chest
calling from the fringes of the day
"all of this will stay"
your flaming breath across my back
the sleepless nights, i can't keep track
call me weak
you never will know
the strength it took to let you go
the distance screams and i try to keep little pieces
but i cry, "more, more, more"
it never comes
i fight to close the gap, but it grows
and you say, "you can keep me in your head"
and what i've come to know
and the sweet words that you say
all of this will stay
