let us run naked thru time square
and wave insanely at the cameras,
or paint the white house pink
before we also burn it down.
     let us fill our wombs with cement
and lament the passing of sexuality
as it was and exist as little more
than statues at the mercy of the weather.
     and let us ****** our pasts
and those we knew
and engrave our portraits
on the sidewalks
which in turn will flood over
with the bitter tears
of the former generation --
     all to spite a faceless enemy.

I grew up listening
to my mother's sighs,
father's footsteps on the porch,
the harsh rattle of car keys,
and then the intermittent silences.
The salt-taste of tears
baked into suppers
was unmistakable and
I came to enjoy it,
because without it
there was no taste at all.
And without the sighs,
goodbye-again footsteps,
or the keys before the car peeled off,
what else was there
but those silences?

Perhaps I am yet unwise in most ways
and do not know the meaning of many slight symbols,
nor do I fully grasp the importance of free will.
But I have seen my share of death and life,
I have tasted the fruit and likewise spit it out
back into the palms of those who fed it to me.
I have heard one too many sermons desperately tempting me into salvation as it has been defined.
Short-sighted as I am, though, I have abandoned the house of the lord
to build my own here on earth.

The caterpillar
sheds all his skin to find the
butterfly within.

I've been staring too long
at the setting sun
remembering where I've been.
I've been pricing a home
where I can live alone
and start over again.
But if a man can change
his foolish ways
(and I know I can),
will you keep me around
and help us get back
to where we began?

I'll forget my anger,
my worries, too,
I'll forget my shame -
I'll forget it all
if you will promise
to do the same.
I know sometimes
you wish you could
just forget my name.
But please take my hand
and follow me back
down the road we came.

The way I see it,
we can both give in
and call it a day.
And who knows, maybe
it'd all work out
and we'd be okay.
But like it or not
I'm tied to you
in so many ways.
So if you feel that too,
and I pray you do,
let's agree to stay.

It's too sad to think
our paths could cross
some far-off day -
to see you with
a stranger in
some cheap café,
or in a bar,
brand new dress,
dancing your night away.
I might catch your eye
hard-pressed to find
the words to say.

So I'll say it now,
best to hear it early
rather than too late.
'Cause if I say nothing
and seal my lips
then I seal my fate -
I love you, dear,
and I'm only hoping
you can relate.
Won't you please
meet me outside and
let me through your gate?
It's getting dark,
but that setting sun
will have to wait.

Peering intensively through fog-marked mullioned glass
into a cool and conquering October sunrise
I am met with a profound and welcoming sudden awareness -
zephyrs breathing through each emerald green grass blade,
     brow of country hilltops, mountains materializing
with the passing of each era like wrinkles in a face,
clouds crawling the longitudes to reform over Pacific pools somewhere,
soil forcing upward making way for elm or oak or pine to tower,
rivers thundering wild down the backs of continents,
     cliff or crag breaking the maelstrom on occasion,
and all the while spinning, all of this and more, clinging to the frame of the earth
as it dances balanced on axis, pirouetting through the cosmos
in turbulent, beautiful, simply complex form just as I
back away from the window and extend an arm to brace myself.

Hair a mess from what she can tell
in the mirror.
Photographs lying face-flat
in their frames over the mantel
beside the urn.
She gets up, sits down -
"Oh, what's the point?" -
and dials for her sister who has experience in this.
After the grief they share a *** of coffee and make plans to do this again.