So tired, ******* exhausted
of tired promises, promises
You'll never keep,
You know that You won't
(So why do You make them?)

Not sure, I don't think
the cave under the falls
is worth the battering
But you tell me you Miss Me
Miss Me
So I keep spending,
Wanting the search

YOU, DEMOLISHER.
I, BRICK ABANDONED.
I am made of the substance
You were built to ruin.
You, Spender of Time,
I, Timeless Monolith.

Take Me, Take Me,
Take me down -
Brick by brick You undo
(with tiny meaningless hopeful phrases)
Bat your eyelashes while you pocket my pieces
So You can keep telling Yourself
You're tender.

this doesn't end well
the moment i chased
that glimmer of light
across your cheekbone
with lingering eyes
on the first evening
i knew it would not

and still

i reached out my hand
to trace the glowing
curve of blood warm skin
because how could i
with eyes in my head
and a beating heart
pretend to deny

such beauty

when your lips tilted
sly corners lifting
you spoke words from my
childhood my home my
own place of safety
as if they were yours
too and meant something

profound

and it was over
between one breath and
the next my heart was
no longer mine but
i did not notice
until it was too
late to look away

to stop

the way i turned my
whole self towards you
inevitably
compulsively like
magnetic north or
a sound in the dark
you were laughing and

lovely

this doesn’t end well
but it could and does
it matter when you
lean into my side
the thought blazes through
my veins whiskey warm
that it might be worth

the end

I hadn’t meant to spy
just an evening’s walk along the beach
knowing that things are sometimes strewn there after storms
between a gust of wind—a break in clouds

Coming upon moonlight
gleaming on wet teenage backs
Two—
by a leaning erosion fence
fondling the last discoveries of childhood
fumbling with the barriers of her bikini
behind the erosion fence
out of sight and forbidding

Breeding like sea grass by rhizomes
prowling that neck, those *******
Gasping! Warring!
for the land of white warmth below their tans
His hands grip, lift, position, insist
By such undertow
mouths and hips pinioned in disbelief...

where they cannot be seen
two half-rounds in rhythm – struggle in the surge of being

as the surf binds them in refrains
about the ankles