in place of a
lover's embrace
I fill my chest
with smoke.

I suspect now
there are more
walls around my
heart than ever
before.

there was once
a light called hope
beaming brightly

but that light
was just a trick.

what was once
a raging pyre,
is now but a
few embers glowing
softly in a
charcoal bed
of gray and black.

...it's not any of you.

too much given?
or
the price to learn,
at least for
something like
me.

I sit quietly in
a dark room
just listening
to: cars, planes,
people and dogs
pass in and
out of existence.

there is a pleasing
chill coming
through the open
window,
a delicate intrusion
of Winter at night.

a car locks,

a pipe bangs,

a door opens
then
shuts.

your name
spoken
in ceremony,
no aid will
come.

this fragmented
colossus screams
through my
skull.

my love is poison.
my love is poison.
    
there is no antidote.

my love is poison.

see it now in
full light.

my love is poison.

tell me the
truth, that
my love will corrupt me,
that
my love will devour me.

tell me the
truth, that
this horror sings so sweetly
it draws every moth
to its flame.

tell me the
truth, that
my love is poison,
that
someday,

my love will
**** me.

here is a man, alone but
okay.
here is a man, longing but
guarded.
here is a man, tired and
resigned.
here is a man trying to find a way
to try again; to forgive all the women
he's never known for the way he
was treated by those he has known.
to forgive himself for the tears he no doubt
caused to fall from the women he no doubt
hurt.
he is a broken man
but
glad for it; every crack, every piece, every splinter,
every jagged edge, for he could never know himself
without shedding those parts of him that could
not survive.
the ones that are left are the ones worth being,
no matter how small or irregular they are.
here is a man, in pieces.
here is a man.

put to rest a thousand
ways
the Rest is a parent
the rest is apparent

sleep now and
forever and the
nebulous drippings gather
to coalesce

render the beams
from blood only

to suffer close up...

my perception explodes
above
below
beyond
within
around
and
not at all

..I am he without

here I go,
blundering through another day

trying to show up for my end of
the bargain.

I sit here,
with this pen and this notebook,
and the stuff is
supposed to barrel through me.


it's supposed to shake the debris free.

it's supposed to melt the lock.

it's supposed to blast my cemented mind apart.

it's supposed to summon shadows and make them dance.

it's supposed to swim on the surface of the sun.

it's supposed to show me all the rainbows in the darkness.

it's supposed to shine the silver on all my shredded scraps.

it's supposed to reach through all my ******* and show me:

     emeralds and pearls\teeth and knives\
     blood and glass.

it's supposed to twist the blade and spit in the ****.


but this morning,
it's the big bupkis
     -nada

just the weight
of its silence...



that *******
probably
has the
day off
too.

everything breaks
me.

the eyes
the touch
the soft smile
the body
the kiss
the walk
the hair
the slopes
the ****
the folding into

       -all of it.

they draw me
in and
draw me
out.

take me in
then cast
me out.

and
I keep
coming back

because

I love them-
   all of
   them.



I love them
more for
breaking me
than I do
for loving
me.

every swift
crack at
my heart
released
something,

a little bit
more of
me.

the good parts-
   what might become
   the best parts.

and one day,
everything I am
will be
destroyed again

and I will
emerge

again.


I will crawl
forth from
my belly

on skinned
knees
and
bloodied elbows
with a
perfect
smile on my
face.

growing and
laughing
in the
light.

I think about
the veil most
of us
live
under.  

the one
that seeks to
distance us
from
the ugly,

brutal,

severe directness

of the cold scales
of survival.

-we are not so far
removed.

   the 9 to 5
    the supermarkets
     the advertisements
      the entertainment
       the gas stations
        the toilets
         the dinnerware
          the morning talk shows
           the sidewalks
            the right angles
             the hot showers
              the doors
               the locks on the doors
                ...
it all adds
to the illusion
of
exception.

they're all
jumping
monkeys clamoring
to distract
and
avert.

this man-made
cacophony is
a powerful
hypnotic
and we
succumb
to our own
enchantments
quite easily.


                                                     I lost
                                                sight of  the
                                            sun below the  h
                                             orizon.   I had t
                                               oo many que
stions to ask before the earth came between us.  and now the night
                                reminds me that she never left.
                                            mute         music
                                            magic       mother
                                                          ­I
                                                        see
   ­                                                    you