Time speaks to me,
caressing my thoughts as I come
deeper into this city
the concrete aching beneath
my ready heels
the air as
wet as rain
sweaty as the sea
and a smell wafting up, catching my throat
a thought appears, suddenly
on the tip of my tongue
swirling around for a moment,
the pressure mounts and yearns
to be set free.
My clothes **** on my hips, *******
wet as sin,
heavy as thought.
And suddenly, as quick as it arrived,
the thought leaves.
My mind unsatisfied,
I head home.

A dirt devil dips into
the valley, crashes and breaks itself
on red canyon walls
Mina Loy spins her words dizzy,
round and round
but they only get lost in the ground
while today I scrape by
How many may I say,
to your ten, Sir?
Your pockets are empty but
you are rich in noise.

Words fall heavy out of man's lips
My own words carried away
by a wind
still spinning against that heavy rock
that even Nancy could not crush
nor Gertrude
you cannot put them in a box
but you tried
the square rock chittering at Woolf
as she crossed the lawn of Oxford.
She found a way into their library
after all

we only have handfuls of
all the thousands of words
buried under rubble
the rocks
the canyons
the words
of men.
but gradually
they escape
as only the wind can.

I keep trying to leave this house
my feet slip into my shoes still warm
from their long day and I can't leave
because a poem keeps trying to feel itself but
my hands keep interrupting the story by adding in words
greater than three syllables and analyzing each pause
like I am Shakespeare
I keep trying to do some good
I lift my legs forwards still eager for the world
but I keep falling flat on my face from trying to push the world and
I want to feel important but I keep thinking about the meaning of importance and thinking normally
amputates feelings because the Renaissance is not my era, and I keep
trying to rinse off my head but every time I empty it out a whisper catches my ear
and my mind ***** it in, like if I can pull in enough noise I can make a great rain of it in my head, enough to clean out my mind. Enough to pour down into my lungs enough to drench me down to my toes and I keep trying to leave the house with my heart still warm from the last time I saw you and my hands still shaking from the last time I touched you and my thumbs still kneading circles into my palms trying to leave my hands behind and I keep trying to leave this house.

The intellectual babble of a thousand
sophisticated individuals
rattles through the rafters of the human race,
running off rooftops,
turning to rivers in the gutters,
ricocheting off sewer walls and finally
resting in the sea.

Their voices might not write
the headline of a newspaper
but they could be the cast of any
Great Gatsby book,
defining their own generation,
spit upon, worshiped,
whatever.

We're consulting here,
synergy, development, growth
ambition, future,
hit those key points! Don't walk away
while the power point is only
halfway through.
It's only halfway true anyways.

I found myself years ago without a cause
just a voice.


What a din.

Slides back and forth
pendulum it penduls and lums around
I find myself between two letters in a word.
My head is heavy and swinging
while my heart keeps pushing,
and my hands never stop moving

Between two points, 8-4,
9-5, 10-6 we plot ourselves X, Y, X, Y
the co-ordinates of a majority of our lives.
How many times have those numbers meant more than people?

If,
that word is a lot heavier than you'd think,
that word is a longer journey than you'd think.
Where did it take you?

Now,
We are young. It's time to move. No meant for this or meant for
that. You are what you decide to do. You are defined by your risks,
X, Y, X, Y
What is the limit of the equation?
Don't let your life pendul you.
There is no limit.

it's not your fault, i think, as you smile in your sleep.
so upside down inside and out blue and red then yellow and purple
i am a swirling sea of color, never settled
tide in, tide out
in tampa bay there are two tides.
you are not always on my mind, nothing is always on my mind,
maybe just a fear of high tide.
You are the most beautiful thing i know.

it's not your fault, i think, as i'm sinking i try to hold on but
there's more than one kind of addiction.
precisely!
you can quantify any data you'd like.
you are a candle on a window sill late at night, you are sunshine
which sometimes i feel too dark to be allowed in, but
the sun always helps.
You are the most beautiful thing i know.

it's not your fault, i know, as i storm angrily to bed
lay towards the wall
looking at the wall
choosing the wall
while you ask "can i come in?" i enjoy saying "no" to hear you ask it
again persistent. you are better than rain or ocean or snow.
you are someone to grow with. but my anger is stronger than reason or the world would be a better place.
You are the most beautiful thing i know.

it's not your fault!
i understand, yearning to be held, felt, touched
my thoughts shut down like broken links in a fence, but instead of letting something in i keep you out.
you can't touch me because i want to be the rulemaker of our game.
when i was a kid they never let me play.
it's not your fault
You are the most beautiful thing i know.

it's not your fault,
i think, as i struggle to breathe. is this asthma or anxiety?
will the migraines ever stop? will my excuses for pain ever feel like they are allowed to be real. you see me.
you help. you don't ask. i've never been so felt before.
You are the most beautiful thing i know.

it's not your fault,
i wonder, as you lay there in your sleep
i will always question life more than perhaps another
am i meant to be a Mother? will i doubt my child from the day it's born because it's mine? will i give them scorn?
would you be a father with a mother like me?
You are the most beautiful thing i know.

it's not your fault
i wonder if i should leave
after my blows, only trying to hurt.
you are only here for me but i can make anything ugly with time.
i hope this sickness doesn't spread. please only take my head, leave him alone.
He is the most beautiful thing i know.

it's not your fault.
sometimes i'm melodramatic, or when the mood strikes pragmatic.
but never the same.
sometimes i think i should leave, but
i can't.
you are sunlight in the window, you are glass in the mirror,
you are steady and patient and far more than i deserve,
you are a quiet reserve.
you are a new park to watch the sun set
you are a life i haven't met yet
you are more beautiful than rain, ocean and snow,
You are the most beautiful thing i know.

Baby, baby.
Don't look at me like you do and tell me
You're telling me?
Don't tell me you can't feel-
baby.
What are you saying? You're tripping over your own
thoughts like you don't even know they're there.
Is your mind really that dark?
Come here, come and sit by the candle with me.
Let's watch the light.
Hold my hand. I'll hold you.
I'll hold you til you don't remember my arms are there.
I'll hold you til they fall asleep,
until all the nerves cut off and I can't feel my fingertips
anymore and all my blood is being held hostage by gravity.
Baby don't pull away.
Just let me hold you, in the light now.
There,
Just like that.

Oh baby I love you.