To the new poet who wishes to be wise:
Keep your work out of sight of unwelcome eyes

To the poet first trying to find rhymes:
Give it a moment, you'll think of them in time

To the poet whose night is their day:
Just write down what's harder to say

To the poets whom I know as my friends:
Let's write until the universe ends

Before identities and allegiances are even confirmed,
The cries of anger rise up like a thick, black smoke,
Heavy and suffocating, it flows through streets,
Over the English Channel, across oceans,
Seeping into social media and blanketing all else.
Cries for vengeance,
Vengeance,
Vengeance.
And those cries barely manifested into a wisp
When Beirut was attacked the day before Paris.
I didn't see any Facebook pictures of the flag of Lebanon.
Do any of us even know what the flag of Lebanon looks like???
To **** innocent people is a crime except when we do it,
Then it's "There are always casualties of war,"
But if this isn't a war except when we're killing people,
Can it really be called a war?
We care so much about the injustice of it,
How the innocent are mowed down without mercy,
That we want those bombs dropped and we want them dropped now.
When those bombs destroy homes and blast children's limbs apart,
Bloodless and pale, until the area looks like it used to be a porcelain doll factory...
Will we all have Syrian flags for our Facebook pictures?

lately i've been having these good days
i don't have sad wet cigarette saxophone nights anymore
i watched the sun wake up six times last week
i found a blue bucket of tulips &
gave them to a bald-headed krishna girl when
she sang to me on the sidewalk

i hired a boy to hide in the foyer
& peel a fiddle if i rouse from sleep during the night
or whistle through a harmonica
if i'm wet-eyed during breakfast
i finally got rid of all the pictures you stuck
to your side of the dusty bathroom mirror
except the blissed-out polaroid of us
perched on an old oak tree limb
like a couple of soft doves versus the turreted sunset

i deleted your number because you don't call me back anyway
i stopped mailing letters to your father's house
i haven't listened to the Plantasia record
you bought me since you left
i never feel the gray heat from your
staticky hand warming my shoulder
i forgave you for the blood in my kidneys
& old smog in my mildewed vinyl lungs

i sleep under the running green vapor light
of the moon & stars instead of the frothiest pillows
rippling on an ocean of sheets & project quilts
i finally scoured the lipstick stain from my collarbone
after what seemed like two years
i forgot how your armpits smelled
i sewed all your sundresses into a shower curtain
& i never see your delicate ribcage
peaking through the streams of hot water



i hardly ever notice the noose
you left hanging in our apartment

tonight is an
old-enough-to-vote-scotch-in-a-coffee-mug
kind of night i'm in one of those moods
where it's hard to communicate anything specific
i'm delving deeper into the vast emotional cavern because
i haven't found someplace open yet to flourish
& i haven't reached my usual vibration so i'll just bolt
the door wash my hair with hand-soap
because i'm a ***** guy with a ***** shadow body
i'll sit down in the shower to relax the muscles in my legs
watch the tears streak down the clear shower curtain
& accept the same marvelous sensation of wetness
tumbling across the skin of my face pooling in my top lip dimple
& soaking the soft yellow flannel splayed open on my chest

when the ball drops & the piano coda to Layla kicks in
i'll melt under the sweaty first-last moon of the year
as it sneaks up behind me bathed in the creature light
of the television shining out from the silent second living room
of my sister's house the one with the chandelier
& it's no surprise i turned out this way

last year i felt as cool as raindrops gathered together
in the shade of a wide tree & now i've never felt so alone
in my whole ******* life at least then i had roommates
to not give a **** about me because i'm nothing
i've come so far but sometimes
i'm still so scared i can't breathe
sweat trickles down my rib-cage as i re-inhabit myself
& next year i'll continue to dig myself out of this concrete hole
of low self-esteem this deep urban well of trembling
amateur sadness & feigned calamity maybe learn to not
blame them or make the tree feel guilty for blocking
the small bright sun from shining on my puddle because
i am no longer defenseless against my own racking fears
but right now it's too hard to see tomorrow's sunrise
from the wan of today so i'll just sleep out by the pool tonight under the stars to wait for it's richness & apprehend it's depth
if i get champagne drunk & can't
slide open the glass door i'll shiver my shoulders
& cry soul-struck blubbering in my sleeping bag as the
fireworks or flashlights cut
a Morse code dirge through the thick elm trees

the smell of spent powder or snuffed out candles
hangs like a noose around the throat
of the street with the fog in the morning as i brush
my sleepy-eyed teeth with my finger
i'm remembering the only summer you & i spent
together between college semesters
as you were getting over your ex-boyfriend i helped
by keeping pictures of you hidden in my room until spring
you said he took steroids & you liked a guy with muscles
so i did push-ups every morning before anyone else woke up
i did whatever you wanted in bed all night
but it didn't matter because you always left
as soon as you came

the weekend you got your wisdom teeth out
you made me promise to kiss you everywhere
except the bottom half of your face
starting with the swallowtail butterfly cocoon
of your collarbone or your belly-button at the bottom
of the neighbor's swimming pool
& you held your breath for me between
your swollen catch-me-if-you-can smile as
billows of your flaxen hair
floated into my open mouth
i was pretty sure i was the only guy
you hooked up with that desolate summer
but i was wrong

I'm a murderer
I've stabbed my own heart.
I'm a thief
I've stolen my own happiness.
I'm a liar
I've told myself how much better things would be.
I'm a slothful woman
I fell asleep.
I'm greedy
I've eaten my own pain.
I'm hungry
Just not for sin again.

last night i stayed up late after the sun kissed the horizon's eyelids and wrote poems as letters to all my exs and some to my one night stands lying to them about not being scared of the dark anymore and that i don't recall the exact shape their outline made on my bed sheets.
this morning when the sun rose pink through my window i
did not lick the envelopes instead i lit the corners with
matches and shouted out their names to the walls in
my bedroom. my feet did not take me to the
mailbox instead i'm standing on cold toes
naked in front of the bathroom mirror
waiting for enough warm water to
collect in the tub for me to bathe
in. tonight i'll drink the star-
light that spills out on
the cold kitchen
floor tile and convince
myself i've never truly been
loved by anyone; that i've gotten
here by sheer force of will. that i'm
fearless and invincible while my fingers
fumble with the heavy pistol and my tears
write her name in the folds of my favorite shirt.
tonight is another late night holding sepia pictures
of her because i'm scared to go to sleep alone now. my
whole body hurts when i think about the new empty closet
space she left and how her hand would find a nest in the soft
crook of my elbow when we were walking anywhere or the fresh
shock of electricity when my fingers first found her fingers and her
fingers tied my fingers to my other fingers tight around her waist. my feet ache, because the first time we danced it felt like i had swallowed
a gallon of violent purple hummingbirds and my earlobes are
burning swollen because her painted lips aren't here to cool
them down. her finger nails found the place between my
shoulder blades naturally and i feel so foolish because i
gave my whole self to her but it was an unwanted gift.
it's three in the ******* morning again and i'm
writhing under the thick down blanket but her
velvet toes aren't tucked deep into the small
of my back for warmth. before i choke on
my mistakes and crush my fat tongue
with a bullet i just need to ask her
why

why did i lose you to him?
why are his hand prints on your hips?
why does he get to wake up next to you?
why can't i think of a good excuse to call you?
why did my right foot disappear when you left me?
why does his morning breath get to tickle your eyelashes?
why can't i remember what your nose looks like when you laugh?
why isn't my pillow as comfortable as your bellybutton?
why do you have nothing to say to me anymore?
why does my mouth still taste like a bird's nest?
why did you take my cast iron skillet?

sunrise
i'm stumbling thru a salt fog
out on the coast in a campground
with two tiny squares of paper stained
on my tongue looking for a patch of dry yellow
withered grass in the tall dunes to lay down in for a while
until the pressure of tears subsides or overcomes the corners
of my eyes & temples

i'll spend the day tight-chested
under the sinewy arms of a magnolia
tree with teeth clenched against hiccups
& clear snot running freely out of my nose
down my chin as green tea waves lick my twinkling
toenails with an open-throated warble & beads of sweat
collect in the hollows of my skinny knees & race down to my
vulnerable achilles

i'll be eaten alive by bloodthirsty
beach fleas after the sun burns off the fog
& i'll ride the high salt wave with the melodies
of sunrise birds like a sikh on a psychedelic print
karastan rug with hair to my shoulders & dirt on my
knees while the beer-hall bellows of tree frogs echo over
my stretched earlobes

sure i'll watch the girl weaving
thru the shimmering florida heat wave with
hypnotic green eyes & long legs that disappear
briefly into thin white cotton shorts & then emerge
again at the endless curve of the hipbone peach creme
neck adorned by a single shining jewel riding a thin rose
gold coiled rope

while i'm listening to
willie nelson & struggling to hold
back tears she waves i wave back in
the reflexive naked itch to be a gentleman
she slips thru the dunes with fluid grace & sits
down with hair smelling like orange blossoms &
begins to hum-sing like a pink finch in champagne
& i finally give in to the impulse to cry

when i do she holds me
with about an hour before the sun sets
where the shoreline doubles back on itself
we watch as the dolphins catch rides through
the breakers on the last yellow shafts of sunlight
before the cool night air closes on us like a fist around
an azure plastic doorknob

the ocean bit the sun &
as her lips found my butterscotch
cheeks & the trees sizzled behind us
the stars swarmed like a bright cloud of
bees overhead we danced in swirls of wood
smoke whispering secrets to the campfire & her
******* stiffened when my tongue touched her belly
& the flying embers whistled

tonight
we'll sleep together in a blanket
tangle of sweat soaked beach towels
like two organic granola humans fighting
to stay children forever & when i press the plump
button of her ******* she sinks deep into my chest like
it's upholstered in expensive leather & twitches like a moth
seduced by the glow of a kerosene lamp

when we wake up
wet & stuck together before dawn
she kisses my tumid lips with her eyelashes
& pokes holes in my morning breath with her tongue
she dresses in a golden chrysanthemum gown & asks me
to zip it up over her powder pale shoulder-blades so she can
escape across the crunchy wildfire fodder & wet pavement to dance
& kick in the frothy white surf opposite the dunes as the first waves
of heat bounce like vectors in a microwave oven but i am much
more comfortable here folded up tight like a lawn chair in a
hurricane in an alternate world where my heart hasn't
been reduced to the floor pedal of your mother's
foot powered sewing machine in the
forgotten attic an alternate world
in which my name became
more than a delicate
vocabulary flicked
from your
tongue