We were born with only time in hand
Handing out the days left to live

Yourself
Wants
Desires
Lower and higher
Up and down
Around
Do you think for yourself?
Out of control
Know your roll
Taken under
Pulled out
Full of something

dancing pirouettes
in front of my eyes.  Floaters
that jump up with surprise. Dimples
of cellulite on both of my thighs. They're

the grease on my kitchen stove. Circles
in my pantyhose. Embedded in
my carpet like carpenter ants. They
do the fandango every month

inside of my pants. The brown
stamp of aging on both of my
hands. They're cute
on dalmatians but not on

my pans. They litter my face
like debris on the beach. And
they're painted on my liver
like navy shirts thrown in

with whites and bleach. And X
marks it on a treasure I cannot
reach. And the sun coats my body
with freckles from the beach.

monsters unleashed I fear
light might freeze on our faces
and what a rush to be generous
an eden of objects, a living emptiness
all in the name of christmas
merciless the geopolitics of hatred
this is not a poem but sheer rage
when streets explode under our feet
exhausted by words turned into death sentences

I could end where you begin
Kerala Dust

some mornings there is a dawn in me
and there I begin, I look at things
and they don't look back
I rehearse your name with different whispers as if
I rehearse the pulse or a pirouette of silence
You give birth to I, I give birth to you, a strange happening
some mornings  I disappear into a satin breeze that carries my almost thoughts
that's how I call your name, my almost thought, only the body knows
there is a fresh dawn and there I begin