Colonial mansion in an ocean of grass,
windows aglow at night as I walk past.
funeral service now used of verandah,
but I hear prom music,not mournful stanza.
distant french doors open to a reminisce,
with boyhood heart,of vitreous.
dancing footfalls on parquet floors,
tux and gown past crown moulded doors.
captured ambiance of a setting sun,
shown from chandeliers highly hung,
day I was born,born the day of the prom,
I smiled cordially,and my date fawned.
girls betrothed by corsage on wrist,
rare french curls,of lunar eclipse.
bedraggle boys,now dapper and genteel,
vest and bowtie,a knightly feel.
lady chapperones smiling at maidenly gait,
happy drowse near columns in mansion estate.
cufflinks,silk gloves,and nail polish of gloss,
beheld tonics and sweets, carefully aloft.
opening cord, an arrow from cupid's bow,
that struck coquettes on tippy toes.
they sprang to dance,I stepped back,
almost invisible in shadow with tux of black.
bare shoulders,lake ripples easing to shore,
hips,gentle waves,right before they pour.
boy's stiff,as if waists beheld sabres,
no matter,it is the ladies the music caters.
"your too handsome to stay here unseen,"
a rivaling chaperoness,semblance of queen.
"you should dance ,"said glittered lips of pink,
bent like sparrow wings,during teacup drink.
she was privy why in shadow,I hid my blush,
in her class, my crush,that crushed me so much.
beauty strained me,even the shadow she gave,
black silk,stretching, convex and concave.
a crude metal and wooden classroom seat,
clasped her waist of slender physique.
paid homage by a window in curtain mail,
shining suitor with muses of light and gale.
light loved her skin of mediterranean sand,
wind was enraptured with fine brown strands.
thus light penetrated strands,blondly hot,
and wind would blow,cooling pony tail off.
her shadow curtsied under my desk,
and long legs danced in irritableness.
mourning class is abuzz with scent of prom,
flower not frost,rules the school's dawn.
I gave my consent,to an earlier invite,
not wanting to go despite.
and Great Gatsby,and looming prom night,
only subjects of sparrow wings pressed tight.
" show of hands,who do not have a date?"
a slender wrist arises,from arm curvate.
alone,she shown,that no one asked her,
this stone of rome amongst boys of plaster.
her hand fell with a boy of teachers match,
wind concealed her pout,behind windows sash.
sun rays gave discomfit,to gaze her way,
but I looked through burning ray.
to see a trace of a tear,in her eyes ovate,
a goddess unsought,with sadful face.
I, poor, fatherless, could not possible go,
to prom,with pristine princess of arched portico.
I could not even interweave my hands to dance,
or know, where I could safely place my glance.
a wind blew a scrap from her desk,indiscreet,
I read it as it was pierced by light at my feet.
the word "will" and "with" were dotted with a heart,
"prom" and "me" preceeded the most painful part.
was my name in her beautfiul free hand,
the colour red,from hearts inkstand.
class bell rings, I travel back to the mansion dream,
over blue grass acres, past oriels in cul de sac seam.
my eyes turn to cotton,in shadow as I ponder,
as pain was forgotten,my eyes came upon her.
invisible hands,lifted my chin to a red shape,
our eyes met, hers smiling, mine agape.
only a glassmaker could imagine my sight,
when seeing the hot curve form in fire-light.
only a wax-wing could have rivaled her eyes,
respiring neckline with lash-my heart sychronized.
"will you dance with me,"she softly entreated,
" I don't know how,"a coward repeated.
she was a princess for which tournaments were held,
every timber of mansion,for her prom was felled.
not tribute to Greece,was mansion corinthian column,
but for her and from quarry,her prom did befall them.
I could not tarnish this Esmerelda-this feminine form,
never have I seen a lady,unaffected by mans horn.
her legs stepped softly as the falling pages of a chapter,
but it could only end in tragedy,if it was I she was after.
I turned from her beauty,and to dark acres I tread,
under a weeping willow,I play the last thing she said.
was my name, as I shunned from my last chance,
now back under willow,a cane marks my stance.
I ran from a fate, from all too sweet a Karma,
if to interweave my hand with hers,would harm her.
I left that mansion for the stars, to flee from fate,
but I only preserved her,with my own heartbreak.
I still see her,in the most beautiful prom poses,
as mansion lights flicker out,and a coffin closes.-
under your breath
out a gun
placed into a
in the alley
When I hear a concealed clock ticking,
I think it's some shouldered past jello grenade
ready to chastise my fletched thumbs.
Like the last time Sandman drew supper with his knees,
and decided to fling cherry cobbler at my nose,
I realized this homeless perfume actually belonged to Mother.
Her pearls redeem her complexion,
milk marrow of silk against her nose--
three strikes dawdling their tongues
from underneath tin necks.
Steady, rinse, exfoliate:
but those are difficult to do
when your rib cage cracks
like the last octave
of a reddening audience.
Brother thinks the tree skirt is soft,
coddling his pats and rabbits
below a ranch full o' pine scented apples.
Sister wonders if she should bring new girl home,
(met at 1:33 AM on 23rd Street.
Apartment documented to smell like baby powder)
but friends are friends are friends are friends,
just friends as furrowed Daddy repeats to himself.
Even "Hallowed be thy name..." confuses the CCD out of him.
"Cancel Alabama's trip this year;
the bees will be humming in their own candle wax.
Besides, who wants to hug Nana
when her breath doubles over in grilled salmon?"
a little piece
of something much bigger,
belonging to both
crumbling in rather,
suddenly, opposing desires
for an unknown everlasting;
lines of the unconscious-
whimpers after a deliberate strike
all the possibility
in these softened cracks,
in the subtextual
possibility I wouldn't know -
tell me, babe,
please tell me when this
sigh is over
that you've fallen
We will find you, fickle friend,
where the grass parts ways for snakes
and where wealthy women make talk
of the men who feed them-
dressed in summer colors
with matching drinks and cackled laughter,
we will find you in the song notes
they sing to each other
when sun gives way to moonshine.
Search the spaces between
lightning strikes and thunderclaps,
underneath the bed sheets
of a boy who won’t stop reading
when the lights go out,
we will look for you
inside half-empty cereal boxes,
perhaps we will dig you
out of the sandcastles
we buried in birthday cards.
Where Mozart breathes
through the fingers of a child
and where his mother’s tears fall
as he plays for her the first time.
Wherever his father drinks his last drink
and beneath the floorboards of the home
he broke with the backside of an open fist-
where water drips red with blood,
Where tiles chipped like a tooth
in the mouth of a household
grow moldy from the inside out,
where books beg to be read aloud,
words beg to be let out
from the birdcage chest
hiding beneath the breasts of a wasted woman
who thought she found you
last time she lost herself.
We will find you in ourselves
the next time we try moving on-
the next time we paint our faces
with stage makeup and make up another reason
to look like the photographs
we hide from new lovers,
next time you love us
we will have climbed a few miles
in search of god,
Not your God but ours-
the one that carves its home in the poem
that beats beneath our breastplates,
that makes sense of signal fires we set
as warning signs
for the times we forget you are still coming-
the times we find your footprints
in the gardens we use
to grow our spines back.
Tick. Pop. Tick. Pop.
Time s l o w s as eyes flutter, out of focus.
Breath comes quick, then gone like a retreating tide.
The pearl that is the human mind
has lost its luster to this stiumlant storm.
Lights flash, images warp, gradiated and foggy,
and with them, pictures of memories I'd rather forget.
I slip into this self-induced coma;
not to be happy, not to be satisfied,
simply to be nothing at all.
The night blew darkness into me
But you, you whispered my name,
Splintered apart these eyelids
Let the syllables wrap themselves
Around me, carried me back to you.
Awaken you said, and so I did and you
Let the words Come forth drip down
Into my ear drums, and so I did.
I came back to you, uncurled my body
To the sunlight peering itself
From behind you and I knelt,
Knelt for your touch, knelt for your words
To awaken more than just this,
This limp body, give me reason for being,
And so you did, you took this skin
And struck life through it,
Taught me to roll my tongue, to own
Your language, and you pressed
Your forefinger to my forehead and said
I will take you home.
Cushioned by a garden
Her lungs took breath,
Opened up and expanded
Unfolding she stretched
Outside of herself
Felt dirt, grass, flowers,
Silent on their names.
She let her fingers
Reach down, and she shuddered,
A gasping of breath,
Let her hands run up
To her lips,
Forcing them open,
Am I so bad
that all I see in this compliment
and all in you is bitter.
Bitter is only a way,
never a taste
so why say bitter.
That taste is sour
and sourness is when things go off.
When you're off with me
I know it's because of the bitterness.
Our bitter is strong.
The result of fermented anger.
Locked in some small space
cooling in a steel casket.
To be consumed in moderation.
I dream of drowning in our
setting a flood upon you.
It's still ours and so
I couldn't bear to waste your half.
I'll drink deep mine own.
Keep it inside.
Not near you.
Let this fortified feeling burn through me.
Scorch my mind.
And I will live.
But always the same.