My twin is no green-eyed monster,
rather he cuts through a crowd like Mr.Grant
and leaves me lurching in the aftermath,
tie askew; ginandtonic now mostlywater;
cocktail napkin ripping slowly from the
condensation, and me with eyes going
blinkblinkblink.

He has colossal strength,
carrying grudges like Atlas,
boxing up Hope like Pandora.

He can fight off sleep for days
and carries me along to exotic locales:
Waffle House at 3:30 in the morning.
Is she there? Was that her voice
in the background?

I know that voice better than my own.

"tell her her boyfriend called"
I can choke into the phone
but it's my other half laughing with the boys in the background

Consequences are meaningless.
He's got me here to clean up the mess.
He has given me some tape and glue.

High quality stuff
that does not do its job.

Right now everything is a
VERY BIG DEAL
and I am stretched thin like a wire
sizzling with potential energy going nowhere
meanwhile I wish to fall to the street below
and become
SOMETHING
for a brief few moments
until I am switched off and replaced
with a better model
and I can lie forgotten
perhaps absconded for some
AMBITIOUS PROJECT
that never gets done
and I can finally rest in the dark
beneath six feet of other forgotten dreams
while the world buzzes and whirs around me,
hard at the task of forgetting
while trying to be remembered.

We will go over that hill right there,
the one yearning for the sky like the earth took a breath and held it for a million years.
Then down in the valley, just to the left,
we will find a little path,
a dry artery through the lonely trees,
and soon we will burst forth into a little meadow, a perfect circle.
If we squint a little we can see the ghosts
of pagans cavorting around an angry fire and
perhaps we will wish to be wild, free, and dangerous too.
We can sit, if you'd like,
or we can measure the meadow's circumference with careful steps,
we can find the very center and stand terribly close,
or we can each choose a side and negotiate a truce.
Perhaps I will take your hand.
Perhaps we will share a kiss.
But we will always feel that aching distance between us
that even perfect meadows cannot fill.

As I remember it I sat alone as a stone
somewhere out near Pleiades
and on nights when I felt quite human
I could squint my eyes into the distance
and remember something akin to earth.
Klaxons blared and lurched me alive again
and my ship rumbled underneath me,
already leaning into the Event
like a dog on a leash just too short of his bone
and as I remember things,
and I often remember them differently,
the leathery hands of some goddess I loved
encircled my ship and cradled my heart,
then whispered, "I love you. I'm sorry.
it's time to die."
Then one finger twitched
the leash was cut
and we were off to the races, son.

When we passed the Horizon,
I always thought it would be blue,
the singularity of the pain
pressed white hot kisses down my spine
and I looked for the drip but we were way before that now
so I closed my eyes and let it all go
and gave up everything to those swinging hips
and dead, brown eyes

Out the other side I found myself
s t r e t c h e d
thinner than a rose
my feet were in Omega
when she kissed me on the nose

That is why we're here, sun,
where it all looks the same.
Are we the ones who differ
No one doubts that we're to blame

The war is over and there is a tail on the son
The war is over
but I am waiting
in pieces on the floor

Mistah Gates. He dead"

Time is an ouroboros and
the Earth a flat circle

Measure out your life
in insta pics

Let us go then, you and I,
through empty diamonds
and deserted play grounds.
Let us visit, if you will,
the battlefields ,
streets full of bodies
that decay in minutes.

In waiting rooms people come and go
and speak of tanks and Bushido
 
Eyes I dare not meet
Can see me with their headpiece
made of straw

This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Forgotten, as we stare at our new ones.

Tir na Nog, land of my youth
withers now like bone from truth.
Hearth and home are cold as stone,
forsaken rivers dry as bone.
No longer will the lofty spires
be full of laughter, song, and fires
as emerald streets now choke with dust,
the blacksmith's hammer breaks from rust
and in a pub not far from town
a lonely warden's sorrows drown.
She sinks her shoulders to the fog
and kills the crush of thought with grog.

when we were last was all was well
adjunct a wall of stone we lay
on verdant grass my throat did sing
of wheeling stars
and evergreen.

when next my breath and fingers flew
to sword unsheathed at shadows long
like Venus stung you sank below,
like Sisyphus
i climbed anew.