On a family vacation
To the mountains of Tennessee,
We were on a hike,
And my Mother said to me,
She had grasped a tiny twig,
To break her from her fall.
She laughed at the irony.
"That isn't much help at all."
Right now, I feel like she did.
This scenario is foretold.
If I fall, I'm falling hard -
And there's no sturdy branch to hold.

For much too long I have buried my head
Buried my head without a word being said
For much too long I have buried my head in the sand

For much too long I have shrugged it all off
Shrugged it all off without counting the cost
For much too long I have shrugged off the needs of the lost

For much too long I have kept my mouth shut
Kept my mouth shut when I should have opened it up
For much too long I have kept my mouth shut on God's love

For much too long will be eternity
Eternity without being set free
For much too long will be eternity for all humanity

For much too long can I have that on my head
That on my head that the truth wasn't said
For much too long can I have that on my head
with both the living and dead

For much too long...

I never needed anyone.
I did it all alone.
I found nothing wrong with it.
Logging many hours into personal fantasies.
You came and went, I had no one to please.
Life was well knit.
That was known.
You came back.
Fade to black.
I forced words to fall.
You forgot how to breathe.
That's how I recall.

I sat back apprehensive.
Expecting the contrary.
Preparing a defensive.
Not expecting the rarity.

Then you spoke.
To this day I'm surprised you deal with my folk.

Past my yards of awkwardness, you found something there, and you found it value.

If this sounds cheesy you don't know the half of it.
But you might know most of it.

sorrow is born of burning desire
when you sew lonely nights on your fingertips or unzip dresses that he used to unzip for you
my aunt told me years ago that loving someone without loving one's surroundings will make christmas taste like grandpa's death
you cannot leave without leaving marks, she said, you cannot stop breathing in crystal air in the winter-time, she said, you cannot love yourself if you keep pouring all your love into hollow bodies who cannot be saved
pills can make them high for a while but blue and orange and white cannot free their minds
be their rush but be a decent one
let them get high on you instead but if hating your freckles seem to be the price for attention, then they are not worth your time
you are the most important piece of joy walking on this earth
the second you forget about it, you waste your soul and become as empty as the soda-can you filled with out-burned cigarettes and corrosive tears, she said
perhaps it is better than being alone, i answered her back
at least i am something to someone

*(k.w)

I've come back now
       from the periphery -
       where the multitude of
       things with names
Occupies all thinking,
                 all emotive reaction.

This must be what is termed
       primal wisdom
       - this constant compulsion toward
         the substantive.

Your arms and your mouth
The warm breath on my skin
The caressing movements of your body
Through one transient night...

Restores all
       to simplistic clarity -
Leaves me grounded
       in the real.


- fr

I want to be immune
To the song that lures
Me to you.
The sensuous pull
That has me wanting,
Needing,
To be in your grasp,
Your hands tangled
In my hair,
Your teeth to my skin.
I want to be immune
To the hunger I feel
For your kiss,
The ache I feel
For your touch.
Because I need you,
So much it hurts.