to home i head, alone:
i'm down with pretending.

it's been awhile since i've met
a stranger, i forgot protocol.
but i know me, i obsess too easily
over what could be next week
or the week after that
immobile with fear, i tread into
a new unopened door in the
facilities of cohesive consciousness
literally, to my knees i drop
in fear

fear of dipping out of my element
spewing words i should keep to myself.
i dont know you.
i'm a stranger to you.
something sown,
silent seed shaking,
surpassing solid sediment

palatial secret agent moment
lips read off-screen, character
arranged by lifestyle,
slowly fading.
avoided contact verbal ornation
ostented sense of power,
some wit to be attained.
taller than my fist raised,
shorter than conscience
kept thoughts lossless
a human fault portrayed
in flamboyant intricacy.

breathe in fatal.

10/04.
I.
tonight
she finds herself
left behind, choking
on ashes.
the light on the shelf
where her picture used to be
is burning out.
and names left,
here, to fade away.

long ago, the river
found its way to
this house's front door.
one year ago,
a spirit departed
not forgotten.

in swollen memory,
it's girls singing night
thru the halls &echoes;
behind a white door.

(another voice has found its
way into the resonance.
the broken harmonies
provide reassurance
to the stories inside
these walls.)

II.
girl stands in halflit doorway,
singing songs of invention and disbelief--
candles on dim porches,
tired cars,
tired slaves.
inside -- the walls breathe
like accordions
alive with her story.
glory fades into whispers
into silence, into dust.
her heart radio (racing)
playing the same track
repeatedly.
voices underwater,
steady (harnessed) scent
of black roses.
don't tempt me, the
silence.
o sunstruck night, beaten.
"it's here, follow."
do you follow?

i.
unfiltered asiatic plaything seeks
hypoactive cradle technocrat
evicting meaningful poach,
mendacious transcripts of
past events found in his
memoryless playhouse.
poplar crowd scribbles observations
outbound punch of laughter
sighs to the scrambled, ethnic
postgrad nation.
microfiche telegram exploits
meaning to deeper courtesies
current surrendered upon
entry.

ii.
psychotropic sustenance
fizz thru ***** vein corridor
secret mission lifestyle
learning fast in enormous packs of
tiny lies.
spew logic chagrin mediated
bloodstain; cerebus twitching
outside of beingself.

iii.
heart ceases,
sacred whitepaint moans.
o infidel,
strike thrice; a chord
binding us- nasty, *****
beads bleeding rich.
cloaked bushes tasting,
hisses cured human oaks;
tapered horns that sob,
casting waved heels.

iv.
dawn fallen, only concrete
possible now. separated by
thousands of what is not,
shocks disintricate; undwindling
patriots mailing lessness,
laughter sounds fetching
offband pitch.

these are the veils
that cover our tracks
and the stories we told
are lining our backs
tolling, reeling,
better than ever before
he's leaving, refuted,
too cold for the shallow
shelter inside.

now, carbon makes steel
and the plains you meet
melt for the pillars of
the darkness that sounds
the placing of dreams on
the shelf

you blanket your stares
with your eyes, sockets contained
in your lies, protecting your
fears, committed,
the drastic pulse on the
tip of your star.

we talked silently
& without repose
under the blood red sun
of our sunken desire
my eroding heart
beating with each breath.

& laughter - falling out of love
& time

i clench every word in my mouth
red and seething
down my face

i can't find an excuse

breaking the silence
of the hyacinthic beauty
its pristine value charged
and buzzing at my
hip

i could use the stars as a shield
and mask myself as a victim of the night
and hold this silent breath
aching to impose this fleeting cloud.

i try to rearrange the pieces
in this vast array of secrets
swimming like beams of wonder
through my shades of grey.

i break the liquid skin of the firmament
with touch of my narrow hands.
it paints the fertile landscape black
as i fasten myself with orion's belt.

the power was never ours
(we stole it from the neighbors).
we took our war bonds and
food stamps
and gathered the family together
toward the bus.
once boraded we took roll.
make sure no one got left behind
waiting there
(lost and slow to tie their shoe or...)
later at the diner, i watched you break the bread.
it was so beautiful
in a sad, empathetic sort of way.
you passed around the broken basket
to the end of the table
and back again.
i didn't want to take my piece.
i wanted you to have two; one for your hunger
and one for your beauty.

you could see that it meant a lot to me.
you insisted i eat.

later, at the ice rink, i told you what was on my mind.
there were no words to pardon your reaction--
or even do it justice--
and i knew that it was good.

you invited me in from the cold
for some warm milk.

toeing the line so delicately
its forbidden fruit

yr shirt around my shoulders
and we're walking along the train tracks

your golden skin glowing in the haze
of summer storms come and gone

brush yr hand along my jaw
we're missing but we're almost found

and i'm just crying out, "love me!"
but you already do

"kiss me!" but you already have
and the sparrow sets its wing

and a suburban summer dream
is just beginning

instead of leaving
you could find yourself broken
like an artist who's trying his best to fly
(i'm not always ascending
but sometimes i'm smart enough to try)
for the greatest pain of living
could be the smartest pain to come by

you could find yourself living inside of a dream
cos heartache is healthier than it seems
you are a derailed train
and i am the mystery of the
pain that's listening to every move you make

that turns into bearing an almost child
broken at it's wake.

there's a fine line
between this hate
& this regret

that fine line
travels to this sin
& the mess
we were in,

& placing this
distance
between us &
the stars is
kind enough.

nefarious nested newfound
minds gather in dim-lit bedroom
shining with love.
taking seconds from an
extended time frame.

what eludes to harm done
comes from adultration
of a vision - friendship.
it's been said, no loyalty with
dope fiend drugdrugsdrug addicts.

when under the greensmoke
light of a cracked window
and wheezing-- OH the wheezing--
of youth taking
extra time to become
tomorrow's electronic future.

it's gonna be different
than yester-year, dear.
20% of our feeble country
engages indulges
in this ancient sacredity

&as; for you, my dear ones,
sitting in the dark,
jeopardy, saw IV, daft's
harderbetterfasterstronger
--"i've never seen so many colours!"
my heart calls as yours does,
for a future we're waking up to.

we're not violent vicious vile
backstabbing cold-mongers.
if anything,
laughing at them.
quoting movies, queueing memories.
preparing for world dissolution.


i hate the bane too, kids, but we
know who we are.

bonetender night, polaric.
windswept crown atones
weeping wanderer.
rigid matriarch condones
tantrum medication. vast
control shapes diminished conscience,
actuating frustration;
migrane pulse doctorate.
sad shell housing beaten wails,
a closed eye, ear to brains.
steady now, absorb sultry stance.
dim lamp set on autonomic fade.

perhaps
if i made myself
scarce, scared
sacred--
i'll become
wanted
uninhibitedly.
i already am.

a look of entendre at
intelligence,
perhaps deeper than
my own [but mountains
are enormous]-
those giant eyes
i only wish were on me
always but only with
love always

a look of anger, admittedly,
but only for a second-
think i saw
you slow down as i focused
on the floor, your speech imposed-
my glance, again- of sadness,
now,
for he who i'm so scared
to love
gives me another tiny fright.

neither of us broke even
we both walked out with
pockets extracted from pants
validated parking,
painfully pounding out a new
way home.
our past, unchangeable.
mistakes are made.

i know i know I AM.
i AM- or at least i
feel like i am-
realizing when the ***
is too hot, when to
take my hand off,
when to use a ***
holder.
lately though i don't
feel like i can crack
an egg on your edge
let alone cook a meal
without you burning me.

a fan quickly sweeping
the trapped air of
breakfast nook, spite &
malice. reduced to what
holds my interest,
that which i am guilted
for most.

a hand held is a hand held
not held to a handheld
- a hand that won't let go
but its hard to love
when- almost to the
point of thinking- you're
looking up to what's looking
down at you.