Choke on the cold,
feel your lungs tighten,
your teeth ache.
Hold your arms in themselves,
cradle them as they shake underneath goosebumped skin.
Walk slowly so you do not force wind against yourself,
walk slowly so you do not have to choose where you are going yet,
walk toward light.
Let it spill over you,
feel its heat,
still frozen at the core but the light,
it is so warm.
This is what you have been waiting for,
what you wanted but could not articulate,
this gentle touch.
You wrap me in your arms much like a father
I feel safe, like mine never made me feel
You were never perfect, but you tried, never once calling me a bother
The hurt he embraced on me, you tried so hard to heal
What were once deep and open wounds, are now only scars
The impact is still there, reminding me of the pain but it no longer stings
I used to believe in nothing, but now in shooting stars
You took me in as your own, let me discover my own wings
You helped me find my way, became my father, you were always more than just a teacher
Summer came way too soon, and I had to fly away from the one love I knew was true
I love you always, as you do me, this goodbye has brought tears and blur
Remember I'll never stray too far, for I know my heart will always bring me back to you.
These are all just bad beginnings
in my search for a show-stopper,
trying to be just the right balance
of sarcastic and lovely,
the right balance of writer
that I idealize and am not,
what am I, a narcissist?
I'm trying to put into words
the feelings I told you I danced
because they are wordless (spaceful)
and because of you
I have to say them with voice;
what a dilemma is this--
That when I tell you with movement
what I can't say
you put me in the place
of having to voice it and now
I have no words
other than bad beginnings.
So is that it?
When I word to you
instead of dance for you (for me?)
what you have to return is a nothing,
a less-than-nothing saying,
saying nothing, leaving me
hurt and confused because
maybe there was a something
in all your nothing that I can't find--
because we are dealing in words now,
and I'm a movement reader.
And I know I will forgive you for this
but I won't forgive me for knowing that.
Even while I'm still so angry, it just reveals
my pathetic (patient?) desperation for your love,
But I didn't say this right.
I need to move (dance) this.
Storm into that room so you will be seen, and
hold up high, sun salute
that body, that vessel you got!
Take every vertebrae, mmm pull it taught
Pull it as twine itself
wrapped around my words-
creaking like footfalls on old wooden stairs.
And look directly at your soul-
Do not squirm in the shame
of your nakedness -
beautiful lustful abundantly naked-
Crest, oh lord,
White swirling madness of intentions.
and take these old bones, baby-
take this body
Take these old bones of mine and pull them up,
Stretch, find the strength! and pull-
Take those limped shoulders and throw them back to the gods!
Oh your rusted soul, fill it with water from the Darma Dirty Crick.
And it might
sting and sour.
Make you cough, choke and sputter.
And you start out with the feet, kicking rocks on the road, mmmm.
And end with the head bowed back with a psalm bouncing on
red berry lips, mmm
Oh, yes! Hands out to glory, oh feet moving, dancing
hot pavement below like Hades.
Step and another, another.
Until your out of frame...
Oh glory is the road.
Cleaned and cleansed as you go,
Hear me? Cleansed as you go, down Sinner Lane.
Cleansed and cleansing is the road
Thank you, as always.
Since beauty is honoured all over the Empire,
How could Xi Shi remain humbly at home? --
Washing clothes at dawn by a southern lake --
And that evening a great lady in a palace of the north:
Lowly one day, no different from the others,
The next day exalted, everyone praising her.
No more would her own hands powder her face
Or arrange on her shoulders a silken robe.
And the more the King loved her, the lovelier she looked,
Blinding him away from wisdom.
...Girls who had once washed silk beside her
Were kept at a distance from her chariot.
And none of the girls in her neighbours' houses
By pursing their brows could copy her beauty.