Grandmother used to tell me tales
Of same-feathered birds seeking each other,
But the crows I know
Prefer the company of sparrows
Blackbirds and Magpies tend to bond
Into yin-yang twins of neutrality
And sharp-toothed Hawks
Run with soothing Owls,
Both aware of Sheep and Wolves.

I have a tendency toward impulsive sincerity,
followed by an embarrassment I can't quite shake.
Nakedness does not become me;
Shame follows this vulnerability.
An abused dog
hunching and cowering
to hide my insecurity,
odd curves, and pitted angles.

I have lived eons in twenty minutes,
felt the creaking
of my bones growing,
growing,
growing weary,
crumbling to gritty dust
only to be born again.
To live, die, serve
behind this counter.

I learned love like
half truths and white lies;
A shifting labyrinth of deadends and pitfalls.
What I mean is,
in my anxiety-ridden daydreams,
you remind me of the King, babe.
I mean,
I'm sorry for what I can't control.

I learned love like
chasing a rabbit through a nonsense forest
where only questions exist.
What I mean is,
in my best case nightmares,
You live in a timeless place of teatime madness.
I mean,
I'm sorry for what I don't understand.

I learned love like
conditional, contractual rules unveiled by a
crazed chocolateer as honest faults are revealed.
What I mean is,
in my fantasized ever-afters,
you get everything you ever wanted, and I lose.
I mean,
I'm sorry for what I can never be.

I learned love like a riddle
so, I never learned love at all.
What I mean is,
I'm sorry, but I don't know why.

The thunderous thrumming of sorries

words and worries
racing to and from my most
vital of organs just like we used to
run, as fledgling beasts,
  season after season
from our temporary houses
to the ghosts of rotting homes;
Back when we were alive

bright and breathing,
daring the world, so full
of thorns and hard corners,
to make us heel and obey
  "Go on and try!"
not realizing
even the most ferocious of wildlings
can grow brittle

whittled and world-weary.
Taming is a slow poisoning.
The arsenic of fear and loss
  Like acid in my throat
clogging my arteries and pores
with a feral tenacity we
once owned, making me weak

greasy and gray.

**** Nest Raided, Queen Bees Are Stinging Mad!
1969
******, dark night.
Fire and brimstone.
We will burn our own houses down
If it will stop you from taking them.
Pride will begin it’s mending next year.

RARE CANCER SEEN IN 41 HOMOSEXUALS
1981
12,000 dead by 1985.
Genocide by indifference.
Reagan and Anita will never face justice.
We will never get our brothers back.
No vaccine or cure for decades to come.

‘EQUAL DIGNITY’
2015
Look how far we’ve come…
“You can marry who you want!”
Uncle *** still can’t give blood
To save his dying husband after Pulse -
But at least they can share the hospital bills.

Somehow, I never learned to compromise with gravity.
I’ve been told I move like a drunken camel
or a newborn giraffe on ice skates.
I say it’s just bad genetics.

I’m from a family of shaking hands,
bullet hole egos,
and wobbly knees,
all of us clumsy with our hearts and each other.

It’s no wonder I trip over my own apologies,
stumble at a pretty smile,
falter at opportunity...
This is apples and trees all over again,
and nobody likes bruised fruit.

I am all bruises.
I fall
-over anything,
-into everything,
-for everyone.

There’s a secret to moving gently
that my ancestors forgot to share.
So, this Irish heart runs
on Romanian magic and beats
to the irregular tune of
mis-matched feet
skipping over sidewalk cracks.

Really, I don’t mind the bruises,
The doors turned windows,
the sound of shattering glass.
I just wish I could stop before I smashed
Grandma’s dusty Chinaware and antique mirrors.