i'm a hyphenated pause
between sheets
of crumpled paper

a chance to catch
a deep breath
between dang'rous thoughts

i'm just a dash
between restless gasps
the caesura between broken sighs

when i cease to be
the conjunction between
then and forever

will be bridged
in-between, interrupted
by a spurious line

lust.

No. Lust...

That need which cravenly capitalizes upon itself.

Covet -- lust. Hunger -- lust. Adult -- lust. Blood -- lust.

My eyes are burning red

and I cannot see the forest for the

bruised
beautiful
******
bare
branches.

I remember when we met —
wait, no I don’t, but I remember after —
weaving back and forth like Ariadne’s needle,
swift of stumbling foot and pulled chest-first
down into the dank recesses of an
unwashed, reeking train station.

My friend had puked his guts out
just before I’d left;
he’d danced with you two hours prior, too.
I felt so sad for him.
He didn’t know what it felt like
to have love grow like mold in your heart.
A soft velvet that covers
and breathes and lives and smothers.

I don’t remember the first thing
about when we met.
But I remember knowing that —
Even though I hadn’t yet learned your
secret fears or aspirations, not then,
maybe not even now, maybe I’m
mistaking intimacy for honesty —

Anyways, these words are
a reverberating bullet in my skull,
and they’ve been bouncing ever since
your soft voice first set my tympanum afire.

A thought I had thought I would never ever think.

“I think things are going to turn out
just right this time.”

a day flies by and whiles away
drawing lies and smiles alike
like filings to the lodestone

babies' cries flay the sky
sunlight bright in my right eye
shining in dulcimer tone

in this park no broken tiles
just mild breezes, soft sighs, and ample time
to delight in Spring coming into its own

a wild-eyed man asks why we try
and rightly plies for answers nigh
and questions what we think is known

and waits impatient as we fry
in blind stupor as our minds belie
that we might in fact be all alone

Watch the diaspora disappearing
whispers growing fainter hard of hearing
lights are growing dimmer by the minute
soon you’ll be alone so revel in it

and stand upon the tall grass wet with dew
the sun thrice-filtered breaking through the trees
and stand upon the tall grass wet with dew
to hear the solemn secret-catching breeze

So when your paper mem'ry starts to tear
all those unwritten dreams will fly away
As you watch the diaspora disappear
silence gently holds you as you sway

Although denied the truth he'd sought so long,
the soldier gave his gun and sang his song:
"Despondency is not my trade, nor should
it steal my breath away; all that I could,
I'd show 'em all my strength, oh yes I would!

"Now take this gun, prepare yourself to fight.
Now take this blade, to shine against the night.
Now grit your teeth, good sir, now fix your sight --
the trench may be the death of me, but **!
Eyes on the horizon, now, stand and go!"