Catch me (or Cait’s poem)

You are the free of me.

The whisks of smoke stolen

from lungs to nose to me.

The red hearted tee.

The other end of the line.

Brave bottle slinging,

heavy layden siren.

Under the stars,

under the sun.

Laugh embedded 

in the free of me,

ringing raining

in my ears.


tattooed behind yours.

Stolen cigarettes


Big banging earrings

swinging karaoke.

Lost in the culdesac.

No more treatment

holding you.

Oysters in New York City,

Salty and expensive –

top of the Ferris wheel –

Skunked beer –

Deep woods –

Sunrise on the beach.

You are the free of me,

now free of me,

free of body, heart, mind

but not of memory.


I have never
owned a gun.

I have never
shot a gun.


I have
faced a gun.

and not the
Poetic kind.

The real steel
barreled kind.

The kind
that shows
you your soul



at eighteen.

Catch all

Catch all
Science of the church
Alternative drop all
Upon the media

First question

Which media
Will cripple you?
Support you?
Drop the bomb
Upon enemies
Kept close to home?
So close
That they become


Groomed Presence

empty vault

Come through the
Bullet proof vest,
Our guerilla glass

with no BS

Give us an
Intersection with
Which to choose,
Give us
Our choose your own

Hacked by anonymous.

the extraordinary job of forgetting

What holds by lines;
Must be witnessed;
Where [i]s are dotted and [t]s are crossed; Is selective at best?

Can fly an updraft, soar the down,
be torn in two;
Adds two to none,
and returns ample plus one?

Sometimes there is more than one.

But not before the first
is buried in a mound
of paperwork and financial gain,
Then burned at the stake.

50 pound head

a game at once started
hips back the head ankles
against the grit
the rehearsal rm floor
see the ceiling tiles
the waterspots
we ignore
unless prepping for
our 50 pound heads
isolated and heavy
the force of gravity
can be ur friend
twist at the waist
thump and shift
beach urself
again again
until you
propel weight
to one side
Find a new view
wall desk chair
50 pound head
stand lean rest
Find breath
then step
Again Again
50 pound head

Shadow (or ben’s poem)

Dear Shadow,

You showed up on a cold February day,
my first memory is the day you came.

Doctors took me by the hand and led me
Down the hall
to a room
with all the ice cream I could eat.

They gave me that reprieve
knowing the haven of Mom, dad and me
would shortly bend – when
Shadow you appeared,  with Addy Bo daddy –

The twins.

You, shadow, were small then
Small like me

We fit into that old arm chair together
In front of the tv

We walked together
To get penny candy and
X-men trading cards: Wolverine.

We fought together
Over seat save and
Dirty dishes and
babysitter games.

We grew together
Stretched and faded
With each passing sun.

You came with me
On nightly runs,
On trains to the city,
To acting classes
And the tv studio.

I got my first cell phone
And you your first megaphone

You hit the streets,
I stood behind the scenes,
Filming protests and meeting houses,
Talks of minimum wage,
And death row inmates.

You paced and paved
Those streets
When you moved to DC
When your girl showed up,
When Julie came

We flipped, shadow
Somehow shadow became shadowed
all of a sudden I stopped looking out
And looked up

to You.

Here’s to you and Julie.

You in your fitted tux and Julie in her classic dress
To the two hundred and four guests
To the shadows of the future
To the sunrises and sunsets
To moving mountains and building cities –
To the best years yet.