Just the right distance
from
Can't get far enough away
Safe
shadowed and still
you can't see me
out
here

where letters slow
down where typing
slows down and
letters want to crawl
back up my fingers
from whence
they came

undo close
undo undo undo
nothing happens
and the wound
doesn't close

I have 12 percent
distance
bowl distance
molecules
of masking flood
to the fingers
where the fight has declined
to skin on plastic keys
immune to pressure

the forefinger tip tracing the squarish
key of j
or is it J

Circling definitions feed
on my showing up as
posing weakness
and pieces drift away
like readers

if it wasn’t you,
my eyes could be your usual blue.
instead they pour,
more than an ocean could ever hold.
if you only could be told.
maybe then i wouldn’t be such a mess.
something one could never never access.
a mind full of dream,
you’ve seem to put there too
if it wasn’t you.

a.b.

We, unaccustomed to courage
exiles from delight
live coiled in shells of loneliness
until love leaves its high holy temple
and comes into our sight
to liberate us into life.

Love arrives
and in its train come ecstasies
old memories of pleasure
ancient histories of pain.
Yet if we are bold,
love strikes away the chains of fear
from our souls.

We are weaned from our timidity
In the flush of love's light
we dare be brave
And suddenly we see
that love costs all we are
and will ever be.
Yet it is only love
which sets us free.

Once upon a time,
There was a lady with brown hair,
Big brown eyes
With the smile of an Angel.

There was also a man,
Black hair,
Brown eyes
And the smirk of the devil.

The lady picked up a heart she found
On the floor,
She was walking down the yellow
Brick road.
The felt the heart and examined it,
The heart was cold and it was
Broken.
She wondered whose it was,
So she placed it in a bag and brought
It to a doctor,
When the doctor saw it he told her:
"Ma'am this hearts been broken
For months,
It's cold and it's old
I'm sorry I cannot help you,
The person this heart belongs to is dead."

The lady did not give up,
She took the heart and she went to a
Priest.
The priest told her,
"Sister I'm sorry,
But I am not a doctor
I cannot tell you whose heart this is,
But I can tell you that this
Person has suffered very much,
The heart is broken in every corner.
Almost as if it was thrown and
Cracked like a beer bottle.
May God have mercy on this person."

The lady did not give up,
She took the heart and she took it to
Her House.
she taped it up and stitched it
Together.
The heart was ugly but for some reason
Could not let it go.

She went to the city wondering whose
Heart it was.
Nobody claimed it,
And everyone was disgusted at the sight.
An old lady told her,
"You shouldn't be carrying that heart
Around,
Just look at how rotten it is,
It looks like someone ran it over with a
Truck several times.
It should be thrown away,
You're wasting your time looking for
That guy."

The lady didn't give up,
And she kept on trying,
Trying and trying
Time and time again
She lost hope in finding this man
Until one day there was a knock on her door,
She found it weird because
She knew no one.
At her door step she found flowers,
With a little note it was directions
To a grave, it said:
"Meet me here bring the heart with you."

She went to the cemetery but could
Not find the grave.
She looked and she looked,
She asked one of the guards
And they said that the grave did
Not exist.

She threw the heart On
The ground and experienced
Feelings of abandonment,
She felt like a part of her was missing
She looked at her heart and
Found out it was cracking.
She had to go back,
And when she did it was gone.
The Ground ate it like an apple,
She felt hopeless and
Angry at herself.

But she didn't give up,
She began to dig and dig.
Until she Finally found it,
She grabbed it and cleaned it,
She said:
"Ill always take care of you and I promise not to abandon you."

She felt a tap on her shoulder and
Saw the devil.
He was disguised as an angel
And said he was sorry
For not appearing earlier,
He had hurt so many people
And he felt destroyed
He no longer wanted to feel guilt
And he threw away his heart
He said the heart is a useless
Instrument that humanity has,
He says it takes away everything one
Could put his hands on.

The lady said "no You're wrong,
It doesn't matter who You've hurt
Or the things that you've done,
Your heart is what tells you right from wrong,
And without it you will not remember
Who you are.
With a head on your shoulders
It is not merely enough,
You need something to guide you
And without a heart you can guide no one."
The devil laughed at this,
"Why do you think it is so important to
Care about others?
When I left my heart out for
Months and months people will
Only step on it and saw how ugly it was
Why do you claim to see beauty in
A persons heart? "

The lady responded,
"Not everyone will see it,
Only those who are ready
Will be able to see beauty in what is ugly,
And will accept the truth over lies.
Everyone hurts others,
But the only problem is Mr devil,
You're the cause of that hurt.
Which is why you will never know
What it is to care for
Someone else's heart."

Love is universal migraine,
A bright stain on the vision
Blotting out reason.

Symptoms of true love
Are leanness, jealousy,
Laggard dawns;

Are omens and nightmares -
Listening for a knock,
Waiting for a sign:

For a touch of her fingers
In a darkened room,
For a searching look.

Take courage, lover!
Could you endure such pain
At any hand but hers?

love is believable
in every moment of exhaustion
in every heartbroken home
in every dark spirit,
the meaning unfolds...

...in every night that sings
of tomorrow. in every suicide
i carry deep inside my head.
in every lonely smile
that plays across my lips.
love is believable i tell you,
in every scrap of history,
in every sheen of want.

what can be wrong
that some days i have a tough time
believing.
and in each chamber of my heart
i pray.

I went looking for God
but I found you instead.
Bad luck or destiny,
you decide.

Buried in the muck,
the soot of the city,
sorrow for an appetite,
devil on your left shoulder,
angel on your right.

You, with your thorny rhythms
and tragic, midnight melodies.

My heart never tried
to commit suicide before.

I don't feel at home where I am,
or where I spend time; only where,
beyond counting, there's freedom and calm,
that is, waves, that is, space where, when there,
you consist of pure freedom, which, seen,
turns that Gorgon, the crowd, to stone,
to pebbles  and sand . . . where life's mean-
ing lies buried, that never let one
come  within cannon shot yet.
From cloud-covered  wells untold
pour color and light, a fete
of cupids and Ledas in gold.
That is, silk and honey and sheen.
That is, boon and quiver and call.
That is, all that lives to be free,
needing no words at all.