i was going to wait to write about my birthday on the actual day, but i decided to get it out of the way. the day will come and go, and i will not be changed in mind, body, soul, spirit, or outlook. i will go out to eat with the parents, i will open some gifts, some mediocre fanfare, and the day will end. the birthday cake will be in front of me, i will blow the now 28 candles on the frosted goodness, and close my eyes and wish for:

  • wealth
  • fame
  • love
  • happiness
  • all that other stuff

we all do it. we all wish for these things that we want. not what we need. instead of:

  • health
  • stability
  • patience
  • compassion

but it’s just candles. it’s just smoke. extinguished in one blow. where the tradition came from, i don’t know. i could probably google it. but that’s beside the point. we know that the wishes won’t come true from blowing the candles out. it likens to tossing a coin in a well or fountain. or catching the bouquet at a wedding reception. one doesn’t affect the other. it would be just as effective to put an aluminum pirate hat on my head and dance, all with the intent of world peace. i know it sounds pessimistic, not in the tone of the birthday. but… meh. i’m an old man now. i can wallow in pessimism.



early morning
my legs numb
and steely
from the abnormal
immense and placid
my gaze is the same
open or closed
my blind eyes
darting for a glimpse
a hue
a shade
a color
folded arms
worn gray warmth
pulled over my bone
hard fingers
feeling for anything
but the darkness
my world is
in front of me
if i only knew
which way to stand
and walk coldly



the wind invites my stride
pushing my heels
against the world
arms spread
fingers hard
and clenched
gazing through
the dark green
my heart lifts
digging heels
lighter beneath me
piercing pale blue
deafening screech
rushing past my ears
opening my fingers
touching the open world
in the clouds
the haze below
the blackness above
feet free from the world
mind untethered from the earth