Desire and
All the sweet pulsing aches
And gentle hurtings
That were you,
Are gone into the sullen dark.
Now in the night you come unsmiling
To lie with me
A dull, cold, rigid bayonet
On my hot-swollen, throbbing soul.

TWO loves had I. Now both are dead,
And both are marked by tombstones white.
The one stands in the churchyard near,
The other hid from mortal sight.

The name on one all men may read,        
And learn who lies beneath the stone;
The other name is written where
No eyes can read it but my own.

On one I plant a living flower,
And cherish it with loving hands;      
I shun the single withered leaf
That tells me where the other stands.

To that white tombstone on the hill
In summer days I often go;
From this white stone that nearer lies
I turn me with unuttered woe.

O God, I pray, if love must die,
And make no more of life a part,
Let witness be where all can see,
And not within a living heart.

I remember the morning Tuesday was invented—
how gleeful we sang across the streets—
forgetting that the day after tomorrow would be Thor’s day
and that one we didn’t own, too.

I remember the bathroom stalls, the sins of Leviticus
we survived
comforting our confusion with the indulgence that God too
love man, kind.

Let the purgatory full of half good men sing about their sins
with pride and laugh at the moons and stars for being without limbs
and tongues to protest their innocence and Idontgiveadamnisms;

For I remember being fed the tenets of heterosexual history in elementary school
yet wondering why queer gods are the ones named after the planets.

A predator studies his prey prior to attack...
while the prey lacks the ability to even fight back.

The weaknesses of the prey are easy to see.
Sometimes the right questions are all that you need.

Sneak up quietly, use Facebook if you must...
because a face to face attack would probably be a bust.

Care not if she is married with small children in her care.
What matters was lost long ago due to your own mother's "care".

You were able to grab a hold of her heart without care for her life.
This happened in church and that prey was my wife.

The fact that you have a job that pays minimum wage should have been a sign.
But you had blinded your prey and anyways Starbucks "is only for a short time".

I don't know what she was thinking...she said you were fat and probably gay.
You could definitely play Santa Claus but the facts told me your way.

The predator you are has killed a marriage.  I hope you are happy.
I must move on for the wife I knew is now dead and hope for better in what lies ahead.

I am a ship
That has been iced in to arctic chains
For many years
Cold and blowing winds have frosted my sails
And encased my keel
For countless decades

But this long winter
Dark and dreary, with no time for Christmas
Has begun to become spring
Even though the first time I felt warm breezes
I was convinced
It was a deception

Despite every latent chill
When I lose my faith
These mild, lengthening days
I cannot deny
Nor disregard
The dawn breaking forth

My mast and bow are thawing
My hull starting to shift
The ice and snow falling into the sea
Now just chilling water
Cold
But no longer an icebound prison

I cannot wait for the day
When the last ice melts from my decks
And I can set sail on the open water
To voyage new seas, fresh tides
No longer just avoiding
A frost-bitten demise, threatening to lead me to my grave

These warm days
Have broken into my cabin
My maps and charts now colored
With budding trees, birdsong, and warm water
For someday, I do not doubt
I shall sail free, unbound in pleasant wind.

(theinkthatspeaks.blogspot.com)

remember?

you left a mark, blood, scars, a touch
all over just every where

i grew older and younger carrying holding these things you had me hold and i drank them all in and they were a part of me, me

your photographs are so pretty so very truly lovely and the black and white
the black and white always did **** me i loved the nostalgia you see because nothing makes me cry

like that citrus sharp twinge of the old, the fading, the forever gone and lingering inside, outside infused in the rain pouring itself inside me. the decades haunt me, will always haunt me, travelling like happiness inside a musty ruin

the hollow needles of desire they pierce the sunshine mundanity of my everyday, everyday has these little holes now and they look like you and anything

anything that looks like you is just too much too very much it makes the sunshine melt into clouds and burn brighter. at the same time

at the same time is what confounds compels rivets and other lovely words me. how?

How can this be joy, joy so overwheleming while it leaves me ravenous and aching so deep i can taste the shadows of your soul in mine

i remember

i remember too much and too little and these absurd oxymorons can be the title of everything of me of you and that space between, the space was magic when i was a wind breadth away from your finger tips; the space a gaping hole now so black that i'd need another language, an epithet to make it real

rainbows and butterflies and sexhappy peanut butter.