Gracefully, I dash through the void
The void of grassy meadows and defined, gently held flowers
By the strength of their delicate stems, their petals held only by the miracle of bounteous life
And yet, the winds a metaphor as circumstance
They toss the blameless petals out into their destruction
Torn, tattered, tempest-tossed,
Disintegrated, forever lost.
I sprinted past the aching in death,
Beyond your ultimate fear,
And in it,
The reasons behind all your actions—
Mortality.
For beauty gives you nothing—
Except your values and meaning and hope
Then sing to me, why so few seek it
It slips below their noses, beyond grasp
Don’t look at me as a fool,
I have found reason to rejoice.
As I race through pastures cloaked with beauty
I’ll question—Truly?
This is your final desire?
And with dissonance to my ultimate unwavering choice,
I’ll contemplate—for not quite a second
Then am dashing, rushing, charging into grace,
Before leaping to the finished line,
The turning point, the answer,
Source of life so it can carry on
The reason that I have this hope

Death.

I have purged my sacred atmosphere

of billious and twisted countenances

the only one spitting bile this time

is myself



i ***** poison into the eyes of my love

but she keeps on kissing my aching skin

she says she loves me still

even though her eyesockets are but hollow gapes at this moment



i'm so scared to leave this prison

the place i have been living for the past 100 years or so

i destroy the passion i once felt for my kindred

so that i may leave with you, on our ship to the stars



let me be your moon at midnight

as you are the all-encompassing vacuum in my heart

let me enter you and combust within you

it is the reason for my creation



i dream of writing your forbidden name into my skin

your secret name, hidden even from your perception

for if you hear it, it will be wounded

it has happened before

it must not be uttered

i only scream it inside when i shatter and die within you



kiss me now



kiss me with those lips that you we're born with, but that belong to me

The sun was shining and I was free and warm,
chasing little yellow butterflies
alongside the garden where my mother was working,
a source of food for our family
along with factory pay and Saturday night band gigs
with bare feet and lilacs I rose above it,
watching myself, a small child caught up in her world,
thoughts and music floating with purpose
uninterrupted wondering if there was another
version of me doing the exact same thing
at that exact same moment,
in China, in India, in Africa,
although I did not know the names of such places,
I knew the pictures of dark skin and brightly colored
clothing, from the Encyclopedia Britannica's
prominently positioned in the
bookshelf, center of our living room
and it seemed that I could feel the other “me’s”
that we knew each other and spoke via the
sound tunnels created by earth worms
and the encyclopedia girls seemed happy too,
simply to be alive, dancing to their songs  
yet there seemed to me another, quasi Diane,
this one not so different, nor so far away,
but she was beyond my grasp, and unable to hear me,
and I felt a vivid, deep longing for her,
eventually, after minutes of chasing, the butterflies
could no longer be found, remembering reality
I was sad for a moment, but I imagined that
one must have fluttered off
to that other little girl
through the hole in the air that I could not see
and I smiled, hoping she would be able to catch it.

I know we've never set foot in one place together;
but I've dived deep in to your ecosystem
treading along the puddled paths
and having you by my side
telling me how one patch needed to be stitched and how one was already mended,
you gifted me the key to unlock the equations circulating in your veins;
I know.

I know there was never a day our laughs intertwined;
but right when I find myself in one of those troublesome cracks
you'd recite a joke or two,
caressing me with the warmth of your words
& making me fall more intoxicated in you,
you'd make the ends of my lips curve up with every whisper of your existence;
I know.

I know I haven't yet inhaled the scent resting on the base of your skin;
but love, oh love was made to be created within,
in our minds we have played the game, and in our hearts, we played it even more,
I'll let you know the scents you remind me of:
like freshly ironed clothes,
morning coffee
and football,
I know.

and finally,
I know our story isn't binded yet,
in fact, I know we'll need a million more pages,
so hold my hand, will you?
let's travel to cloud 9
and let us weave this love story together.

dear mama,
i know i left too soon and
i know i miss you but
i met a boy with
eyes like the river styx and
a kiss like a funeral.

dear mama,
there are no seasons here but
the light on his face and the
heart of the beast that
he killed for me a week ago are
bright enough to tell me that
time doesn’t exist in death.

dear mama,
sometimes he gets so angry that
the foundations of
our palace shake and shiver and
the fire in his soul and the
fury in his heart
frighten me.

dear mama,
it’s my last day here for
this year and he
holds me like he
doesn’t want to hold anything else and
i don’t know if i want to
leave at all.

The smoke signals have been sent,
I keyed them in on my fiber optics,
encrypted the secret-message
in their native-tongue.

Now, I'm going
to just sit back & wait,
knowing mother
will be here soon,
to take me
past the moon,
to a better place,
to another universe.

I.
I wonder if you remember me.
You said, “Go out. Find me
that universe, and take these
with you.” Talismans.
Good luck charms like Mozart
and fifty-five ways to say hello.
Navajo night chant,
Peruvian wedding song,
diagrams of ribcages, gender,
bushmen and bones.
Gifts for a people you said
I may never meet.

It has been thirty-four years
and I wonder if you remember me.

II.
Less and less,
we call across the distance:
sixteen-point-twelve hours
between transmissions
and I wonder if you remember me.
I nearly kissed Jupiter for you,
nearly skimmed Saturn’s bright rings,
but you said, “Go out.
Find me that universe,”
so I sail out into the dark for you.

I keep a photo of you,
twenty years ancient,
to keep away the quiet
between your calls:
pale pixel, distant dot,
my origin receding,
I wonder if you remember me.

III.
I know now,
you never meant
to call me home.
Dutifully, I will go out,
but I wonder if you forget me.
I am still here, sailing.

Once upon a time...
there was a shift in the way Humankind
felt and thought and created
that was in the best interests of all
of the known Universe.

Manhood and Womanhood
stood shoulder to shoulder,
eye to eye, throwing their blessing
outward to the Sun and the Moon and the Stars.

Every beast was befriended
and not hunted for sport,
nor force fed for consumption.

The very trees and the grass
bowed their branches and
along with the Dandelions
they paid homage to the Alien
who originated far, far away.

Humankind began to rewrite
their own history which included
All of the gods, Male and Female.

Now isn't that a doable Fairy Tale.