those long legs
and hips
to sink into

blonde , college girl
in my building

sometimes , if i'm
lucky , when i sit down
to eat some
rice i catch a
glimpse of her
starting her run
across the street
from my balcony

those three seconds
are sometimes the
best part of my
day

i'm embarrassed to
admit it but
the other day
i took my time
eating my
rice , hoping to
see her again for a
few seconds at the
end of her run

i waited
and the sun
went down
slowly

through
orange and
crimson and
purple and
indigo

until there
was only broth
left in my
bowl

and not
a long blonde
miracle in sight

fire in the nighthouse
a lemon in the
fridge

you stand among the
bloodshed , legs in
the forest -
why haven't you
left yet ?

there is no council
to seek , no wise
matriarch , nor a hermit
living deeply - there never
was , it's just you
brother , just you sister

you must find your
own way through

you are lost among
all these copies -
people living their lives
as other people

people following people
following people long dead

what momentum stalls
your true spirit from
moving here ?  what limits
bare their teeth as you approach ?

ra ! ,
you are fury and
wrath and recompense

you are cool green
intellect piercing through
the light of the
stars

you are deeper hues
hidden behind blindness

you are death
reaping life and you
are here now ,
ra !

. . . and finally i
allow the sun to
set on another
failed love
affair

two years too
late ?  or maybe
right on
time . . .

my shell and my
spear - this heart
of mine in its
place of power
again ,
but changed

as an emerald bird
of thunder
frees the water
from its cell
in the
sky

the closeness of
my soul is
upon me
with the
right music

the body eats
and eats
and
eats - i can't
help but
feed it

the heart cries
and sings
between each
stranger it lets
in

madness encircles me
like a kettle
of raptors

my spirit reeks
of death
and
the genesis birthed
from it

the greatest
opportunity to
develop and
grow beyond
my tired limitations

i am not
done yet . . .

what we become in
    rejection to the templates
        we succumb to
a positive negation of what
we once believed to be our
being
cast aside even the idea
of a revelatory rebirth
silence and space do not
    describe it
emptiness, void - they too fail
the more i write about it,
the less i say about it

the one to let go of
the one that doesn't                                                 fit
the one that is too nice
the one that is aimless
the one that
is more emotional
than you may have
thought
the one that
does not believe
in himself
the one that holds
the knife
the pills
and
n  o   t   h    i     n      g
the one that dropped out
the one that isn't
good enough
the one that is unconscientious
the one without purpose
the one to cheat on
the one to use
the one to leave
the one to forget
the one you don't remember
the one that is a coward
the one that is a fool
the one that is broken
the one who will disappoint you
the one who is oblivious
the one that smothers
the one that is scared
the one that is too skinny
the one that can't defend
himself
the one that will drag
you down
the one with the bleeding heart. . .



Run.

the last
vestiges of my
terminal romance
are sputtering out

God is blowing
smoke rings
around my heart

the people that feign
caring talk
about fish
and
the sea

one workday is
followed by
many more
of the same

and the
days off

never
last