do you remember
how it feels
to lie with a woman
and hold her
as close in your heart
as she is in your arms
whose arms were those
whose heart was that
what woman
the things you unraveled from yourself
without a thought
in club bathrooms and
green fields and
***** carpet floors
you cannot put those back
the way they were
you cannot
turn the lights back out
no one ever tells you that
no one ever tells you child
be careful
what you pull on
be careful
where you look
Jan 12, 2018
Jan 12, 2018 at 4:26 AM UTC
when I am barely there,
awake nearly and turn
back in toward sleep
all yellow-black,
and
and when my brain twitches
dogwise
in the yellow-black motes and
it’s Sunday morning
in the place
where my brain is choosing
sleep
in that place my brain it will
pivot
through the globe and scheme of all things;
wheel and vector the whereabouts
of where about you might be
in its
(little globe
and
little scheme)
and just there below sleep it will
pivot
about your smell,
there where it seeps up--
it will pivot
about you, still
for you are-- still
the music
and the fulcrum. still
of my sleep
-dc
Mar 8, 2017
Mar 8, 2017 at 3:31 AM UTC
Those three words
of a sudden
pounded in my ears,
and echoed searing through my vessels;
They tumbled all
the way
down,
to find within my breast
a rusted, sleeping drum:
*
My entire body rang
like a pinched nerve
with that familiar crystalline magnetic
that weaves the restless dreams of skyward eyes,
and drags our seizing hearts into the night,
that floods the weary’s lungs with scent of rain,
and ***** the ears of midnight wolves to give them pause.
You woke me, and I kissed you hard and warm;
I thanked you, for I didn’t know
If my eyes would ever see again.
Mar 4, 2017
Mar 4, 2017 at 2:46 AM UTC
I took some time
alone in line
to color in
the edge of him
your yellow skin
you’d cough and drool
and hang your head
your face was red
my tongue is lead
we’d play in dirt
and make it work
I stained your shirt
you pushed your tongue
around the edge
I stole your sun
you broke my head
Jan 19, 2017
Jan 19, 2017 at 3:08 AM UTC
I came home exhausted and road weary and
tried my key in the door but it wouldn’t turn.
The locks had changed.
I noticed then
that the trim around the windows was green instead of yellow.
Through the glass
I saw the rooms scattered with unfamiliar furniture.
I wondered if I was dreaming but I wasn’t.
I had, in fact, just awoken from a sleep of many years.
I knew then that I would never come home again.
So it was with her.
Jan 19, 2017
Jan 19, 2017 at 2:49 AM UTC
Sit and harden
To bitter nothing;
No iterations of mind whirring and clicking
No wealth of intangibles;
Gone all,
All fled to the wind from soft palms,
docile soft assumptions that beauty
needed no steady clasp
No earthly grasp to guide it
To guide you
To strengthen bone to bone and
Sinew to tolls taken,
To hearts weighed and tongues tested
Sat you, boy, with
Circumspect observations
And abstract explanations
For your strength released to the wind
And your beauty to loamy seas
O God,
You are no God,
Just a fool boy
A fossil frozen
A nose turnt up at dry grace
Jan 19, 2017
Jan 19, 2017 at 2:40 AM UTC
There's never been such lovely pain
As her brow braced against the rain
The vaulted thought of finer days
Casts grey her melancholy gaze
Jun 9, 2016
Jun 9, 2016 at 12:19 AM UTC
when I am barely there,
awake nearly and turn
back in toward sleep
all yellow-black
and
and when my brain twitches
dogwise
in the yellow-black motes and
it’s Sunday morning
in the place
where my brain is choosing sleep
in that place my brain it will
pivot
through the globe and scheme of all things
wheel and vector the whereabouts
of where about you might be
in its little globe and little scheme
and just there below sleep it will
pivot
about your smell
there where it seeps up--
it will pivot
about you,
for you are still
the music and fulcrum of my sleep
Mar 24, 2016
Mar 24, 2016 at 2:03 PM UTC