Sometimes,

I sit and run my fingers along the brim of my coffee cup.

I move them in circles after circles,

Feeling the warmth of the steam on my skin.

I do it over and over again,

Until I forget why I started.

Sometimes,

I fall back

Into your arms

Even though I know,

You haven’t always caught me.

I do it over and over again,                                                    

Until I forget why I started.

spherical tension.
A cord, a wire
For which I have many names
That I can never seem to speak.
That orbital nature of my being, that
For reasons chemical,
Sparks fires of color and creation one moment,
And consumes light the next
In a glorious ecstasy of oblivious self envy.
They are the same moment.
The fire and the light are one.
Where one crystal facet lies in the dirt,
Covered in musk
And shadow,
Another face of the same crystal
Shines blindly
With light,
And reason.
Balanced perfectly.
All beings are orbital.

Since our lives were complicated
By outside reason
Our house has been loud with voices
We pulled the bits out of our mouths
And now we will never put them back
And our house has never been quiet
And our house has never been neat
A scream has always followed a scream
Like the roll of waves and the sea is never still
But for the first time in years
I sit alone on the swept floor
Of a silent room
And the cold winter wind rushes through our house
Through windows flung open to let in more breathable air
But it makes me think only of my warm spot halfway up the stairs
That I was too afraid to go to when I heard the cold coming
Now a scream echoes without a scream
And my heat is lost to a room
With nothing to hold it

You said you'd come to tea
so I made a cake
chocolate sweet; maraschino filled;
girdled with a satin blue ribbon;
set out the prettiest plates;
hand painted with forget-me-nots.
And from the darkest corner of a drawer
found a single candle to celebrate the day.
I'd understand if you had 'phoned,
but now the chocolate lends a bitter taste
and even the despairing posies have given up all hope
as the candle's flame flickers my ever waiting shadow.

Death saw my progress and smiled.
I try not to shape the darkness behind my eyes, but sometimes those pearly whites
Like tombstones shine under moonlight.

I remember the young dog on the road.
He wasn’t strong enough to support our convenience
And his weakness leaked from his mouth and nose
Adding a savory flare to the grey gravel road.
He was burried under an apple tree
And my tears were taken aback
When I looked up to see
Death
Smiling in an apple blossom.