it’s all there, the complete mutable story
in the record of happenings outside of time
I have been ripping out chapters
that keep reappearing

the investigation is concluded
the detective put down his pen
he sat back
and grimaced

let’s just say
German

you are a perfect stranger
just perfect

I am a lonely watering can hanging in a dark shed
I have a flower pattern outside
and cobwebs inside

the landscape is especially sparkly today
so many sparkles entered my body
it’s like fireworks in here

she called me Casey
very cute
I think I made a new identity

I’m trapped in the sky again
floating, untethered
my lungs are hot air balloons
my chest is bursting
grab the trailing rope, quick
before I get away

my mother was an actress
a musician
a director
a dramatic histrionic childish personality
but she made a very nice cameo appearance in my life

a beautiful sleep
makes a beautiful me

my insides are shaking
vibrating at the speed of terror
I can’t breath
when will it stop

Rosco, my sweet, you are taking up too much of my bed
your twitching feet are filling me with dread
I love you devoted pup
but you are keeping me up
and it isn’t very pleasant in my head

now is now
now is
right
now
my smiles
my arms
my lips
they are
now

I caught squirrel teenagers!
adorable hooligans
crashing about my attic
their mom has been giving me the stink eye for days
from the porch, the roof line, the lawn chairs
ever since I blocked her entrance
and their exit
so I was very pleased with myself this morning
when I released two rascals into the garden
she watched sternly from above
Look! I shouted up at her, fanning my arms wide
Your babies!!
they skittered away full of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches
she screeched at me a bit
and bounded off
I had the disappointing sense
I was not redeemed

everything is dark today
my thoughts
my heart
my clothes
the sky
everything

has been upstaged
by you

all you need to do is be yourself
and laugh at my jokes
well
not all of them
I don’t want you to hyperventilate

in the tiny reflection
of my shiny tub spout
my ******* look
archaically aboriginal
comically distorted
and I wonder if all mirrors aren’t a bit like that

you have no idea...
well, ok, you have some idea
aw hell, who am I kidding
you have tons of ideas
you’re a freaking idea machine!!
it’s just...
none of them are right

another dream
a really great one
I’d like to go back to sleep

please don’t **** on me
I’m not into that
and I’m sorry but
we have no public restroom

Why does he love you? he asked
What is it about you
that he loves?
Presumably because he couldn’t imagine
why anyone would

my love cannot feel me
my love cannot see me
my love weeps
head bowed in hands
leaving my outstretched arms
empty

best pick up line ever:
I’ll groom it however you like
it’s not my face going down there

it’s a perfect day to behold the face of your love
the warmth of the ground will coax your feet
the rays of the sun will guide your arms
the light in the air will carry your words
the joy in her heart will melt your fears
even a few minutes of love
will bring peace to your mind
it’s a perfect day for that

he’s been trying to convince me
for so long
I have borderline personality disorder
I may as well believe it
still
neither of my therapists agree

I am alone this night
I know it
like so many others
you are not here
may never be
I know it

but I am
and this is enough

will always be

I am not interested in stalkers
or stoners
or random dude ******
I am not interested in you

I’m remembering that scene from fight club
Tyler says, I wanted to destroy something beautiful
I feel like that beautiful thing sometimes

I think I will give walls another try
castles are underrated
you don’t even need a drawbridge
if you can fly
cool grey stone
built into a cliff up high
mythic falls cascading past
with an endless sigh
fearsome forest creatures
who won’t let you by
yes
I think I will give walls
another try

stay behind a very thick glass wall
when tossing steaks to beautiful lions

my sleepy candle lit porch
is a wonderful place
to smoke cigarettes
drink whiskey
watch the moon
and flatter myself
while listening to crickets

to understand where something begins and ends
you need to understand object permanence
but that's what a lot of people are missing

I know, dear
it wasn’t me
but who was it?

a nodding acquaintance
indifferent
an anonymous stalker
obsessed
a partner
in love
a woman
lost

all that time I thought I was in love
I felt weightless
unbound by Newtonian theorems
limitless, I had tapped into the physics of
immortal love
that’s how it seems now
as I gaze into the night sky
back in the chains of gravity

you will all be happy to hear
that squirrel #3 is free and clear
with nary a scratch
I did so successfully catch
and release
the rambunctious little dear

a phrase that has become meaningless
and impossible to say
‘I love you’
too painful
if not entirely cliche

a perplexing range of types
with one that matters most
a disappointment, a weapon
true for children
and ghosts

forgive me if I do not respond
in the right time
or place
perhaps this will change
if ever I see your face

I am talking to you in this strange way
my tongue has become like a typewriter
it is apparently an outdated technology

could you ever love me
as much as poetry?

when my son was little
I told him right away
there is no Santa
he didn’t believe me
just like her when I said
you aren’t real
my son, at least, grew out of it

you now have a Cat
she lives Deep Underground
maybe you can find her

please keep my heart safe
while I stitch a thicker skin

no one cares anymore
not my therapist
or the police
not my friends or family,
he doesn’t even ask
they’ve all lost interest
you’re absolutely free

it is now so recognizable
anxiety
the need to run
literally
figuratively

I cannot reach past my skin today
my self stays inside the safe beautiful place
today I am the flower
not the gardener

I don’t believe in god
do you?
though I can go on all day about Siva,
even Vishnu or Brahma
if I had to practice any religion
it would be Kasmir Saivism
Abhinavagupta ascended way better than Jesus
and he took all his followers with him, great guy

Krishnas are my absolute favorite devotees
I could chant Hare Hare all day long
and the food is phenomenal
though my money is on Kali to kick your *** if needed

the Sufis are the most beautiful and poetic
I can whirl as ecstatically as any dervish and
Rumi, the quintessential lover, was my inspiration
25 years ago, long before he was cool
I can prove it, I have out of print editions

African Orishas are mysterious and fascinating
I did my final thesis on Umbanda
(in 1997, were you even born?)
a syncretic blend of spirit possession and spiritualism
a lovely shade of brown practiced primarily in Brazil
created culturally by African slaves mixed with European colonizers
with the indigenous  just trying keep their heads above the Catholicism

and, of course, we all have to respect
the Native American wisdom,
Wolf has always been my friend
in every sweat, she was with me

I should pay further respects
across the centuries I have been Egyptian,
Celtic, Greek
a keeper of arcane knowledge
for a small collection of mystic peoples

but in this time
my religion is science fiction
physics, neuroscience
my prophets are Tesla,
Philip K ****, David Bohm

while I give Teresa of Avila, Francis of Assisi and even
Thomas Aquinas
my deepest regards
there’s nothing bores me more
in my insatiable quest for truth and
insight into the human condition
than your tedious Christian god

this whole endeavor started because of you
sorry, him...
so maybe it will be an interesting change
to see where it goes
without you—
errm—him

as muse, that is
probably a lot more poems about
the finer existential points of
earrings and cereal

it’s always tempting to blame myself
I can see the attraction
having a safe target
to take out my anger and frustration
to feel in control
with the illusion that self improvement could fix it
it’s preferable to accepting
that there is nothing at all I can do
maybe this is where the locus of fear comes from
growing slowly each morning in my stomach
I am alone
one of the many islands created in the deluge of our global actualization
we are each alone in our chrysalis
a symphony of painful transformations
does the moth think it has a choice?
does it always survive?

I don’t see you
You don’t see me
Not really

processing loss is a very dangerous job
the machines are terrifying
the hours are long
and the pay is terrible