i swear, i'm not a thief,
but if given the opportunity
i would take your
heart and run to the edge
of the universe and
back, just to have you chase me
(it may be my only way
to leave you breathless, the same
way you leave me)

because it's like every time we're
in the same room, i can't
pull my eyes away from the curve
of your ears or the lines of your
knees or the way your veins are
permanently risen off the
back of your hands, like you're
always gripping something,
       you     just     don't    know    what

(it's overwhelming, knowing how
conveniently my hands would
fit into yours, so that you'd finally have
something to hold on to)

/sword

in the way
by the well

it is said
she will rise from the blue
and it is true

...chilly mossy air
petticoats and nighties

little torch
and walloping gumboots

pig tails and
bandaids


the little girl went running

the rust of the bucket
  the shadows cast by the hidden moon
a bolt of lightning in a far away tree

       scare her a little


but she goes on


..at the well
she points and whispers
and there is the ghost-ish-thing
with its sad sad eyes

it tells the girl of the slashes
and deaths the swords
  and the wars
have caused in its time and
it tells the girl

to stop the wars from happening again and again

...the little girl often visits the ghost

   she is not frightened as the ghost has never sought to harm her

instead she listens, and learns



    **the ghost is her teacher

She is in the blue shadow of a city on the horizon,
the metronomal click of six inch heels, hypnotic on linoleum,
the reflection of one window in another,
the scoliosis of the trees in an unlit wood.
When the sun is setting, and each blade of grass casts a shadow against the others,
here the images are ready, like Velcro, to hold fast to a heart.

In the slumber of dead flies on an attic windowsill,
the cacophony of the contents of a garbage can spilled into the truck before your alarm,
the way the syrupy night covers the windows to make it seem the world beyond has ended,
there are words with which we amplify the beats of our hearts,
most especially when they are too soft for us to hear ourselves.

i wish i could erase all the worlds you've
ever whispered into my ear,
but my blood runs thick with ink
instead of graphite and lead,
and my bones are heavy with every
syllable you ever spoke.

all the streets in girl things comely
arms a bit are haired in

               (tan and tan)


the golden crush of whose mute fingers
make blithe the spring
and against
find the night homely

piercingly the mooon against
into slivers thousand make
their drooping slender of cotton haste
as cherry petals,

                             a branch from shake


in the wind to uncurlsome
neatly wan ankles
and fists o' skin girlsome

crease and crease alike(andunlike)

gossamer



                          faintly





                                                          of




pinkest aching to part


To enter loving


To exit heart

i have broken too many bones
to keep bending over backwards
to try to prove to you that
i'm exactly what you need

how can i support you
when i no longer have a backbone
to support myself?

darling, do you
     even know
how                          
      *******
                ­ cute
   you are?