The Waves Of Attrition

You 
are no longer
here
you are lost
among the waves 
of incoherence and idolatry
that makes one
dance
for your own
amusement,
telling 
the others
that you 
still care,
not ready to admit
that 
you are 
just as lost
in the emptiness
in every days
as those
you
ran away from,
who will always
look
to you 
like they are standing still,
but they 
in turn
see you
in the very
same 
way.

There are
no 
friends,
only a series
of collisons and circumstances
that mark
our lives,
washing endlessly
in the
ghosts of attrition
that we
all share,
yet we all
suffer 
alone.

It’s not
the motion
that kills,
but the stops and starts
that pry
us
from ability
to relex.
It is
thrilling,
it is
frightening,
it is
all I 
know.
And the ache
can 
run
deeper
than the rush
that brings
us back
to the surface,
for the
moment.

There is no line,
only a series
of circles, 
repeating and reworking
our twttches and 
habits,
until they seem
a sense of normal,
having
lived
it all
before,
until the circle
fades, 
and the spinning
of waves
begins 
again, 
and we rise,
and we fall, 
and we dive,
hoping
that the next 
idea
will
save 
us. 

-Daniel Coston
August 29, 2018

A Short Poem From 2010

Moment

In a moment
we are not
the children we once were,
and only the twitching
leaves of emotion
remain.


-Daniel Coston
2010

Four Short Poems, 2010

Four short poems, March 18, 2010


1. Running down
a jealous moment
Locked in the
arms of shifting
evolution,
torn between
how I feel
and what I want.


2. The lights fizzle
in the haze of the evening,
peering out
over the distance
between there and here.
Motion hints at other
life,
letting us know
where something else resides,
and where I stand.


3. Once
I passed a friend's house
in the night, each of us
knowing nothing
of the other.
If I had never met them,
what would I have
thought of their place,
their possessions,
coupled with my assumptions,
Would I have moved on,
taking it as another
distant light in the darkness?

4. I hear
your voice again,
and I am there,
the thoughts of that time
thrown back in my head.
I am reminiscent,
wistful,
unsure of the footing,
and how to proceed
from here.

-Daniel Coston

Recent Scribblings That I Re-Discovered In My Car

Ideas don’t sustain realities
but they’re nice
every once in a while

A passing color
amongst the parlours
Enigmas surrounded in a smile

-Daniel 
August 4, 2015

Hallway

I am not
in control,
yet I move
through it all,
hurtling myself
forward
in blind
ambition 
and knowledge,
not knowing
where this 
is leading me,
or where
I want it
to end.


I feel nothing, 
yet
I am aware 
ot it all,
overloaded 
into 
mobile
paralysis,
numb to experience,
as if
I was 
dreaming it all
from a distance.
And here
I am again, 
falling again,
because
it feels more
familiar
than stopping
to make sesne 
of it all.


I 
can only
look behind me
as they all
fade away
and 
make sense
of it all
as I pass through
this hallway,
alone
in a different 
time
and 
place,
the ghosts
of myself
that others know,
or think 
they all,
and the other
that I am
slowly 
becoming.
Lost
in a 
state
of emotions
I am
not prepared
to accept,
yet still
embrace
its swarm
of emotions,
knowing
that the unknown
is more frightening,
staying in the 
exhausted now
than 
what 
comes 
next.

-Daniel Coston
June 2015

Somewhere

Somewhere
you are laughing.
I know you are.
I see you there,
occasionally glancing
at me, 
sharing that same
smile 
between us
that we 
always 
shared.

You are
putting on 
your coat,
and jumping into
your pickup truck
to go to 
that great greasy spoon,
then come back home
just in time
for a nap.

You only smoke

when you’ve walked away

from me, 

because you don’t

want me to do the same, 

someday.

Maybe you’ll 

go walking 

later, 

take a ride on

your electric bicycle,

or just

watch 

the ballgame.

You are

walking the golf course,

cursing over

your previous shot.

I always smiled

when you

referred to it

as “gawfing”,

but you still said it, 

and I still smiled.

The next morning, 

you’ll sit out by the lake,

and I’ll see you

from a distance,

and I’ll wonder

what you goes through

your mind

as the day passes.

You are
playing guitar
like you just 

learned to play,
playing piano
like you never
wanted it to end.
Tuning your fiddle
for one more pass
of
“Orange Blossom Special,”
or looking out
over your banjo,
with that smile
that felt like
I’d known you
forever.

Soon,

you will be

looking over family photos,

and taking one of me

as I sit 

in your back seat.
Telling me stories
of your heydays in Michigan,
or loaning me
that Buster Keaton video
you always loved. 

Later on,

as we have

one more laugh

over the friends

we used

to hang out with,
you’ll ride your motorcycle
into the evening sun,
looking out over
the places that
we used to play.

And I will

watch you

from a distance,

reflecting on 

what I knew,

who we knew,

and who

we all

became.

Somewhere
you are happy,
and you are smiling.
I know you are,
and I still
wish
that 

you
were here.

-Daniel Coston

April 1, 2015 

A Good Line That I Need To Work Into A Larger Piece

A falling star in love with crash landings.
-Daniel
January 2, 2015

The Last Christmas Dinner

I never see you
in my dreams,
only 
in my memories.
And in a moment,
as the first sight
of snow 
begins to fall, 
I can still see you, 
all those years
in the past.

We all arrived
that night 
for our Christmas dinner
in that nice restaurant,
before they tore
it all into
something else,
and turned it into
something you
wouldn’t recognize.
The flocks of tour buses
that line their gates
now stumble
through the doors
in their praise,
but 
you and I know
what they 
really missed.

You sat
near the window,
backlit by the holiday,
where you can us
all,
looking back 
at you
with love
and guarded
optimism.
You believed
in the doctors
as much as
you believed 
in us.
Did they fail you? 
Did we fail you
for not trying
to change your 
decision?
Or had the 
eventual truth
already had its
way,  
and we were 
already
bracing 
for the impact
of what
was
to come?

When I 
stop
and close
my eyes,
I can still see
and feel
it all, 
in slightly yellowed,
yet beautiful
soft
overtones.
Was it their lighting,
or am I remembering
what I want
to remember,
just as I 
can still feel
myself
reaching 
out to you,
wishing you a Merry Chrtistmas,
one more time.

I never see you
in my dreams
only 
in my
faded
hazy 
memories, 
that change and gray
with every
passing year,
no matter
how hard I try
to hold on
to them.

And wherever
you are,
I wish 
you 
were 
here,
to remind me
of where I am, 
who I was
when you knew me,
and how much
I loved 
you.
Then, and in
all
the snows
to come.

-Daniel Coston
December 5, 2014

Ghost In A Quiet Tirade

I see you

trying 

to make me

notice you,

while you act

like I’m 

not here.

You move 

through the faces

with poisoned arms,

glancing off

the flecks

of orange light,

running in

your circles

with 

whitewashed

memories.

Lips move,

but no one

close to you

will dare say 

the truth.

We know 

what 

you did,

and yet 

that is somehow 

my fault.

If 

all of the distant actors

are the ones

that were really 

to blame,

then why 

are you the one

that acts

the guilty role,

squirming

as you retreat

to places

where no one

will tell

what has happened,

or what is

to come?

Acknowledgement

is acquirement, 

and stepping

away

from the person

who have been, 

to the person

you can still 

become.

Until that time,

you are a ghost

walking in the spaces

again

that you 

trip over,

yet

you still believe

is moving forward.

I see you

but don’t believe you,

just as much

as you claim

that you don’t

believe

in 

me. 

-Daniel Coston

December 11, 2014

Cross My Mind

Cross My Mind

On the way home
something 
crossed my mind
that made me
think of you. 
I sighed, 
shook my head 
a bit,
and said your name
out loud
in a low voice. 
How many times
have I
done this
at the thought 

of you?
And I wondered 
how long
would I do 
the same
whenever 
you
cross my mind 
again.

-Daniel Coston
October 12, 2014

Save You

Save You

I knew
this day
would come.
I knew
that this
would not
end well.
Yet I knew
that to alter
the course
would have caused
too many words
too many issues.
So
I let the world
play out,
knowing
each time
that I saw you,
that it might
be the last.


I
could not
save you.
There was
no way
to change
the circle
of others,
and, in turn,
you.
Then,
why is it
and I still feel
like I
let
you
down?

-Daniel Coston

Spiral And Fade

Spiral And Fade

This is the way

you have chosen

to go. 

Spitting and cursing 

at everyone you thought 

you could hurt, 

without looking

at yourself. 

The others 

will not tell you 

how much of a mess

you have been allowed

to become,

but the result

is on display,

falling away from everyone

one person

one action

one end 

at a time.

This may be quick

or it may take years,

but you are spiraling,

and you are fading,

and when you are gone

I will not pause

to mourn,

because you faded from me

a long time ago.

You are going

You are lost

You are gone. 

-Daniel Coston

May 23, 2014

Silent Fragments

I can see you now

through suffering blue skies,

the chill of the distance 

clears of the air

of my perspective.

You were

a difficult soul.

You dreamed for much,

yet the darkness overtook you. 

You traveled to the edges

of your knowledge,

yet could never pull away

from what you had been.

You wanted to be there,

yes,

but you wanted to be 

somewhere else,

and the two poles

of circumstance

do not always balance

on an easy bridge.

By the time

I knew you, 

you held back 

who you were,

and the frustrations

of what 

had never been.

Time told me whispers

of what had happened,

and the objects 

you left behind

speak more of you 

than you ever told me.

Their words twine

together in slow motion,

forming a faded image

of deeper waters,

filled with rage and duty,

leaving

an uneasy calm.

I wear your coat, 

and I am 

a different person. 

Not you, 

nor me,

but someone 

caught in the middle

of what we want,

and what life

gave us. 

Who are you, 

and who am I?

Somewhere between

the man you wanted to be, 

with scraps of words

left unsaid,

as I am

standing here

to fill the fragments

of my future,

and my own mirror.

-Daniel Coston

January 28, 2013

A Wayward Station

There is a wayward station
where the hopes are held apart
There is a rogue along this road
begging for a change of heart.

-Daniel Coston
November 5, 2012

Wave

This is how

you will see

me.

A foggy haze

upon the weathered ground,

a misty fog

is colored in the darkness

of the setting sun,

my figure

facing you, 

or turned away, 

shifting with

your

point of view.

I may look

towards you,

and then look

towards 

what is ahead of us.

You may hear

the wind,

or a song

that you love,

or we loved.

As the moments pass,

I will fade from view,

or simply walk away.

Do not run

from this moment, 

but embrace it

with heavy, uncertain 

arms,

struggling with what

has changed, 

and in time,

the fears may subside

and my words

may come back

in level terms. 

The oncoming future

cannot change

the past,

only our perceptions 

of it. 

There is 

no need to

wave, 

or say goodbye.

The present and future

cannot change

the past,

only our perceptions 

of it.

Let go 

of the pain, 

but hold on

to what we meant 

to each other.  

Hold on to

who we were,

what we were,

and who I was, 

for I

will do the same,

for wherever 

I am 

about to go.  

-Daniel Coston

October 25, 2012

Dedicated to all my friends on that journey.