Gnawing at my tranquility
Chafing my marble surface
An agonizing feast
Of deformed and defunct emotion
Medley of past regrets and shortcomings
Laying stubborn eggs
That exponentially multiply

They do not come softly
But ruthlessly blister remnants of peace
Each an erupting bulbous membrane
That screeches at the edge of my resilience.

Dismembered promises
You speak
And my resilience deviates
Deep reluctance festers
And arid attempts
Configure dreams of little worth

A slump characterizes me
I am a concave branch ready to split
A mere whiff of you  suffices
To stifle my budding flowers.

The  ones I tended to
Shielded from invasive sun
And guarded by gaping  moon
With tenderness so deep
I could have rubbed combs through them

But yesterday’s flowers are blighted today
Harangued in spiteful midday light
And frayed with want they are

Want to be tended to
Want to be encircled by fertile mounds
Want to  be wanted

Describe me in a few words
What do I mean to you?
To what degree am I a priority,
and where do I stand?
Am I memorable?
What color do I inspire?
Am I the torrent of an ocean?
Or blunt as a knife?
Do I carry weight like my mother?
Or am I the shimmer of an ephemeral birdsong?
I just want you to know
I am willing

Cinnamon bark, cloves and cardamom seeds
Clean in running water
Fill a *** with water
Add spices and light the fire

Five minutes in breathe in the aroma
And allow the sensation to seep through your selves.
Allow  the spices to guide

The jolting spices quiver
And their essence gently begins to alter the water
The spices are a microcosm of what happens when you are near him
They jolt like your laughter,
And the shifting color mimics  yesterday’s dim lights
A symbol of his encircling, dominating presence

Once again you lower your head and the profundity of the scent
makes knowledge faint and redundant
You place your cup by the stove
And you quiver as the tea rides the cup.

“How are you?”
“What is new?”
A question as rich as a  promise
A sincere invitation.
You are my repository and the branch I grasp

Like an eager child
I bring my selves forth
All of them are welcome
My inner life trembles
A  mélange of anticipation and nervous excitement

Pain, yearning, doubt make yourself known
Unfurl and unwind
Derail if you must
Pour forth and expand your crevices
And just as well
Shame be banished

On the threshold of a new day
The seconds seem to crawl
To stall the aching sensations
I tell  myself I will go out, to the bookshop

The door sounds off and I enter
Every bookstore has a scent
The appeasing quietude stirs me
This is an enabling atmosphere
I synthesize the stimuli
A crisp new printing
Pearl, magenta, ruby red
Bold, italic, plain and pretty

I exit the enthralling world
The street’s beat has shifted
The cacophonies have subsided
The shift is replete
Rejuvenated and resplendent I return.

The valve that holds me together
A location out of place
A thorn in the woods
The pressure of a current


A mystery worth knowing
A code worth deciphering
The blister that won’t heal
A morning that never rises

An eclipse of consciousness
A national holiday
An emotional stalemate
The stewing of celestial juices

A lapse of vision.
A tear for my forsaken stability