by Chad Hollis
I am man
Walt Whitman’s ghost
I contain multitudes
at the tip of my tongue
hands pressed
against my lips
I can’t be silenced
I am a contradiction
too manly for golden words
too sensitive to fight
but I will fight
throwing hands when cornered
throwing words always
beautiful bricks form my walls
unbreakable cacophony
unbearable silence.
I am a vacancy
alone, always alone
standing on corners
holding signs that say
“I gave it all away for love”
flowers grow in the cracks
of my foundation
to be picked early
by bullets with no direction
my hustle grinds
my bones to dust
my heart is ash to be
blown away with a whisper
I am a memory that fades
I am the passing of time
sands falling
through your hourglass
words I long to say
swell within my throat
I am the silence after the party
long after everyone has gone home
I am convenient
you try me on like a hat
to see if I fit
and I don’t
Arms outstretched
eyes closed
hands unjustifiably searching
empty, trying to discover
everything you say I lack
cradling a yesterday
when I thought I was immortal
I pass the paper bag test
good enough to drink
but not be seen with
I am the beginning
and the end
the power to stare, stonefaced
and bask in your presence
but not the power to stay
or to be loved