broken guitar strings

we thought we could get it back

pulling you from the wall

taking care not to let you make a sound

you hung and gathered webs in your repair

Only you wanted to be a part of my song

and you to me

I never should have treated you that way

I was not alone when I threw you to the floor

this inward misery

left you alone hole in your body

you were never the same

I was taking it out on you the wrong person

I will never do those things again

to you


Holding on and letting go

There is a space between holding on and letting go. A lapse in time where we lost control. I waited patiently for you to come back to the life we built together. I realize now its not good enough to meet your expectations and I realized I was a fool for thinking you wanted me and not what my money could buy. I know I will always love you for bringinging my two sons into the world. I will never forget that you took them out of mine.

gran marquis

10,370 have passed since you were born. can you remember day 1 or 463? I remember the back of that marquis. There were so many backseat sunsets looking through the rear window. I think that what is important now, is that we keep true to our past, who we were; what we held close to us. It hurts so good to know you made it out of the car and into life. I guess I just got lost in the big back seat. Took me a long time to get out. If I could I would go back to those nights chasing roses. We were the kings and queens of parachutes and pulling us in again. I would open every pack and give you the rookie card. Can you imagine a life without me in it? I cannot imagine a life without you. You kept me calm. Under control. That woman was a spazz, but we loved her and we just ran with her every minute-and loved it! People say to hold on to your siblings they’re your greatest friends and your strongest link to the past. Its true. YOU are that for me,and when tomorrow comes I want you to know you are the best friend and person anyone could know. You are strong and courageous. I love you sister soul.

love always
Benjamin alan Stirling


and oh the floating of the top of the liquid

were you heavier than that

when I would fall down to the bottom and you drank me up

Now the hour is turning late and you want me back between your teeth

So thirsty for something already gone

I hate to be the one to tell you that I have been the same all along

That I forgave who you I was but forgot to tell you

You listened to closely not to yourself but to me

I was always trying to help you 

Hear the voice you cannot see

Chasing men

I saw a man today running through the parking lot

I stopped to chase him and stop him from stealing

.  Why cannot I allow man to just go

.  I am so close to death and do not fear it.

  my body reacts to the situation with pain

yet my mind is attune and upright

Is this deathito

Is this my life

I must go to them in the night and see them in the morning


Because you only feel it when you are aware of her

Remember this guy. He’s the other part of me the silly one. We join forces sometimes. But he likes you best. Its amazing how certain people pull that from you when you least expect it. Like when we went to san francisco in the rain. I could always be myself around you no matter what. I’ve Only felt that kind of peace with a few people in life and you are the only one I was sad about leaving. Whatever that means.

Little Sleep’s-Head Sprouting Hair in the Moonlight, Galway Kinnell

You scream, waking from a nightmare.

When I sleepwalk
into your room, and pick you up,
and hold you up in the moonlight, you cling to me
as if clinging could save us. I think
you think
I will never die, I think I exude
to you the permanence of smoke or stars,
even as
my broken arms heal themselves around you.


I have heard you tell
the sun, don’t go down, I have stood by
as you told the flower, don’t grow old,
don’t die. Little Maud,

I would blow the flame out of your silver cup,
I would suck the rot from your fingernail,
I would brush your sprouting hair of the dying light,
I would scrape the rust off your ivory bones,
I would help death escape through the little ribs of your body,
I would alchemize the ashes of your cradle back into wood,
I would let nothing of you go, ever,

until washerwomen
feel the clothes fall asleep in their hands,
and hens scratch their spell across hatchet blades,
and rats walk away from the cultures of the plague,
and iron twists weapons toward the true north,
and grease refuses to slide in the machinery of progress,
and men feel as free on earth as fleas on the bodies of men,
and lovers no longer whisper to the presence beside them in the
dark, O corpse-to-be …

And yet perhaps this is the reason you cry,
this the nightmare you wake screaming from:
being forever
in the pre-trembling of a house that falls.


In a restaurant once, everyone
quietly eating, you clambered up
on my lap: to all
the mouthfuls rising toward
all the mouths, at the top of your voice
you cried
your one word, caca! caca! caca!
and each spoonful
stopped, a moment, in midair, in its withering

you cling because
I, like you, only sooner
than you, will go down
the path of vanished alphabets,
the roadlessness
to the other side of the darkness,

your arms
like the shoes left behind,
like the adjectives in the halting speech
of old men,
which once could call up the lost nouns.


And you yourself,
some impossible Tuesday
in the year Two Thousand and Nine, will walk out
among the black stones
of the field, in the rain,

and the stones saying
over their one word, ci-gît, ci-gît, ci-gît,

and the raindrops
hitting you on the fontanel
over and over, and you standing there
unable to let them in.


If one day it happens
you find yourself with someone you love
in a café at one end
of the Pont Mirabeau, at the zinc bar
where white wine stands in upward opening glasses,

and if you commit then, as we did, the error
of thinking,
one day all this will only be memory,

as you stand
at this end of the bridge which arcs,
from love, you think, into enduring love,
learn to reach deeper
into the sorrows
to come – to touch
the almost imaginary bones
under the face, to hear under the laughter
the wind crying across the black stones. Kiss
the mouth
which tells you, here,
here is the world. This mouth. This laughter. These temple bones.

The still undanced cadence of vanishing.


In the light the moon
sends back, I can see in your eyes

the hand that waved once
in my father’s eyes, a tiny kite
wobbling far up in the twilight of his last look:

and the angel
of all mortal things lets go the string.


Back you go, into your crib.

The last blackbird lights up his gold wings: farewell.
Your eyes close inside your head,
in sleep. Already
in your dreams the hours begin to sing.

Little sleep’s-head sprouting hair in the moonlight,
when I come back
we will go out together,
we will walk out together among
the ten thousand things,
each scratched too late with such knowledge, the wages
of dying is love.


I miss you Coming off the plane looking around the terminal so bright and happy wearing your dress all turquoise and colorful you changed my life forever that day I felt alive when we kissed I felt good inside I walked home.with you in darkness among the trees and felt like a king beside you just to see you smile I miss you that much from the rooftop leonard cohen dance holding you so close and just breathing with you I should have gone with you