on the outside, nobody'd ever known he was unhappy.
he had his mother's eyes, soft and blue,
reminded me of babies for some reason.
he used to pop in every now and then to give me the news,
gossip he'd heard at school that day,
the what-not.
i was real sick at the time, mama had to keep me hidden away sometimes,
ya know, i think she was a little ashamed seeing how it was a little her fault.
i didn't blame her for nothin' though.
anyways, he came and went as he pleased, nice boy he was.
used to wrap me up in a blanket and wheel me onto the porch so we could watch
the cars and the rich folk with dogs jog right on by, like they ain't never seen a girl with no hair
and a boy as handsome as he was.
we was a regular spectacle, a bonafide freak show,
and them people they always gonna talk, but he told me that the only people that listen are
the ones doin' the talkin', and that ain't us, so we ain't listenin'.
i didn't find out about his daddy until about a month after it happened,
for some reason people have a hard time telling someone who's dying that somebody died,
can you believe that?
he stopped comin' around so much after that, figured it was 'cause a his mama (with the eyes)
needin' extra help round the house.
weeks, maybe even a month went by 'fore i saw him again,
but he wasn't the same boy, and i sure as hell wasn't the same girl.
he looked at me, with them eyes, as if he'd just lost the lottery.
ya know, he sat me down and told me that he couldn't be around me no more,
seeing as how i was dyin' and all. ( i thought that was pretty dumb, i may be dyin' but i ain't dead yet)
he held my hand in his, his was a little clammy, i think 'cause he was so sad and all.
we sat there for a few minutes, hand in hand, thinkin' bout life and death, and the johnny carson show.
now, he never said nothin', but i think he loved me. i never got to find out the truth though.
he disappeared after that day, nobody heard from him, his mama was all outta sorts.
i think he left town, couldn't stand seein' people lookin' at him and me all the time,
the bonafide freakshow,
couldn't stand bein' round his broken mama.
doesn't really matter where he went off to, he was gone just the same.
some days, when im sittin' on the porch, wrapped up in a blanket, waiting to die,
i feel his clammy hand holdin' mine.
you see, when you don't have much left to live for,
it's people like him that save you.

A translucent film draped over deteriorating, decaying bone,
A fine sheet of white barely covering the twisted mass of vein.
A shaking hand, straining to grasp the railing,
A trembling jaw her only betrayal of fear and anticipation.

Half a century ago, she traded adventure for his hand in hers,
The price of the ring was to bury her dreams.
Fear of flight and fear of change,
Meant they never left that sad, small town.

Chained to that house with all its familiar charm,
Wrapped in his arms she forgot her desires.
When she awoke on tear-sodden cotton pillow sheets,
She told him she had nightmares - they were impossible dreams.

Every year on the last day of classes,
She told her students to follow their hearts.
She never told them she was a hypocrite,  
Just watched, as they wrote their aspirations on a lined paper sheet.

She never went away, she held him till the end,
He was the one who left her first, slipped away so quietly.
Lips on her forehead, hand on her heart,
Whispering I love you's until his voice broke, and he was gone.

One year and one month passed, and on their wedding date,
She boarded a plane with the ticket he left her.
His heavy ring upon her finger,
His message held in her fragile hands:

I'm sorry that I kept you here, but I'm a selfish man,
The world could have needed you, but darling, so did I.
I was afraid of flying, but I'm in heaven now,
So I'll come with you around the world, I'll never leave your side.

Two boys
and girls
unclothed each other
simply at a picnic
flush with wine
alongside
sun-flecked trees.

The girls,
easy as the
forest round,
burned,
delicious,
as the boys
eager and nervous
in unequal measure
partly gave up
concealing
their joys
at forgetting
or remembering
in flickers
their bare bodies.

It went on
over nettles
and half-hours
and clambered
trees and
photos taken
almost formally
(on film,
of course).

And boyish lust,
at first sinuous,
a darting tongue,
began to
soften against,
for instance,
the sheer,
unthinkable
texture
of the two
girls carved
now backward
over the bough
of a storm-felled elm.

And there
in the embers
of evening
they learned
to thrill originally
at the vast,
gorgeous
and astonishing
irrelevance
of what
might happen next.

the cabbages that I will grow
one by one and row on row
will fatten in the spring sun
and breathe in the night air

you will hear them breathing
if you walk by at night
you may not hear them after all
but that's all right

I've set the table for two
I've cleaned the windows for you
I've got cinnamon from Jakarta
for making French toast
the doctor says that I've got
thirty days left at most

the cabbages that I will grow
the love songs on the radio
will deepen in the springtime
they'll be brighter than the stars

I was your Saturn sun
I was your darkness won
I was a murdered dove
I was your hated love
I was strong but weak
and I never needed that peak
I tore into your attic
I crushed your velvet pops
I was your addiction
Then your time stopped
I held onto your cracked breath
I held onto your pain
I held onto your sacred touch
I dove into your frozen rain
Every kiss was magic
All the lust was the same
I miss your ****** face
I miss your lullabies

So until I see your swollen heart
I'll love your grave stone
Like I did from the start

the moon
                 is no longer
                                     a bright
                                                  silver  ­
                                                           sphere
                                                                ­       in the sky
rather a muddy brown circle
                                                  at the bottom of my coffee cup
while stars
                   that used to
                                       dance
                                                  throughout the heavens
instead play behind
                                    the lids
                                                 of my
tired
bloodshot
eyes
       and
            dawns first light brings
                                                     not
                                                      joy,
nor hope,
nor relief
but stings
                 the nerves and
                                           ushers forth

regret

            at a night's lost rest
                                              on edge from minutes
of sleep my
                     weary mind wonders




*why oh why does it have to be finals week?