New Today

If all the days were stretched to a journey

Even if it was spent so often

To and from the same rooms,

Long trodden kitchen,

Food and sleep...

If all the minutes were brand new

Discoveries on the floor, on walls, corridors,

Each day hardly a second

To any other day

That would be my son's new today.

Coffee

The thumping temptress
Smells like a chocolate dream
Then wrings me dry
Of sleep and apathy
It now murks under my skin
Pulsing dark and nervous
Like the tremors
Of drops quaking...
What feeling was I chasing?

Stains

these damned stains appear
on my right shoulder--
sniffles and all,
on all of my clothes.
my son's wet cheeks,
smeared run of his nose,
the breakfast off of his chin
i wear at work
and to bed.
changing shirts and
aggrievances
we fight and make up
everyday
he's my evidence of life
itself, his stains
mark me deeper--
in all my disheveled looks
i've never been more...
distinguished.