366 Poems: December 30th, 2016

The Pursuit of Perfection

In the Constitution,

nobody wrote it as “life, liberty,

and the pursuit of perfection.”

(And if they did, they were lying.)

Now today people walk around

with heavy overcoats filled with lies,

looking for the “perfect” this, selling the “perfect” that,

and sometimes it seems that life and liberty

and happiness

fade away.

But you don’t wear overcoats.

In fact you’re quite the light packer,

saying that you don’t mind the cold.

And you’re stubborn,

and you’re disorganized,

and you’re pretty shy when it comes to conversation

and don’t have much faith in your place in the American education system.

But like many people finding their way,

I wasn’t in this race

for the pursuit of perfection.


And yet it was in you that I found it.


366 Poems: February 1st, 2016

Dragon Fire

“Oh just be the dragon, darling–

be the beast they’re looking for

with those scales and claws so perfect

that they’ll never hear the roar.

“They’ll just see the queen, so shiny

in the cage marked, ‘Do Not Touch.’

Better not disturb the balance

that you have to love so much.

“Keep your eyes bright and your scales clean

like a good monster would do,

and take care to not fight back–

for they might just split you in two.”

Oh but what about my prince?

“Oh please, don’t even think to try

and take some love to your treasure trove

where his dirty fingers pry.

“Oh just listen to me, darling

and I’m sure you’ll be a sight

when you’re just what they want you to be

and spread your wings in– what?”

” What are you doing?”

“Put me down!”

Oh my damsel, caring sweetheart,

you are kind to say the least

and although I think you do mean well

you forget, I’m a beast.

“But where are you taking me?”

Just a cave deep underground

where I’ll hide among imperfect gems

and never make a sound.

Oh my dear…

If you search for perfect monsters,

there is one thing you should learn:

if you wish to play with fire,

then you’d best expect to burn.

365 Poems: October 8th, 2014


I spend too much time

expecting things to be “perfect”:

thinking the sun will shine

or the rain will fall

or the answer will always be there when I call,

that this world is a script

with no plot holes to find

or stumble and fall into

and float through my mind

where they sky’s full of dreams

of what my life should be

and these dissapointments

flooding through like the sea.


They shouldn’t be.

This world’s got no time

to re-straighten the shelves

and thinks maybe it’s time

to decide for ourselves.

So no, it’s not perfect;

it’s never been so

but it’s all that we’ve got

so where else would you go?