mere life is
plenitudes
disarray there is
subcutaneous actions little lies
subversive factions actively pursuing
evil deeds wrong hating
stabbing
the well felt
normal, actually
living beings,
I just don't turn
my back.

I long for you in the morning
I long for you when I'm cold
I long for your feeling of peace and home .

There is no I in denial.
They kiss in bed.
They roll around.

There is no I in denial.
He bought her flowers.
She placed them in a vase.

There is no I in denial.
They hug outside of
traditional thought.

I do not know how we got here,
but I know I don't want us
to stay.

There is no I in denial.
They **** in bathrooms.
They make love in gardens.

There is no I in denial.
She blew a kiss.
He caught a tough break.

There is no I in denial.
He holds a box of his things,
after being shown out.
She says they'll manage.

I do not know how we got here,
but I know I don't want us
to stay.

There is no I in denial.
They kiss in bed,
but it's not the same.
They roll around in bed,
but it begins
to feel
like effort.

There is no I in denial.
He bought her less.
She said it didn't matter.

There is no I in denial.
He feels like his father,
imagining things
she's doing.

I do not know how we got here,
but I know I don't want us
to stay.

There Is No I In Denial.
They don't talk as much.
They sit farther apart.

There Is No I In Denial.
She asks him what's wrong.
He resents her care.

There Is No I In Denial.
He gets drunk and
breaks the vase.
The flowers lay,
covered in wet glass,
sleeping in a puddle.

I do not know how we got here,
but I know I don't want us
to stay.

THERE IS NO I IN DENIAL.
They don't talk, they yell.
They don't remember each other.

THERE IS NO I IN DENIAL.
He drinks more.
She feels less.

THERE IS NO I IN DENIAL.
They were married underneath
an oak tree,
  She said, "I do."
He smiled and said,
  "I'm so lucky."

The flowers lay on the floor,
  dying.

I do not know how we got here,
but I know I don't want us
*to stay.

Love is not a symphony
to be played and danced along.
Not a musical soliloquy,
and not even, at times, a song.

My heart is not your violin,
to play whenever the mood is right.
There are no symphonies within me;
This silent soul's voice is stoppered tight.

Words are all I have to offer;
No songs beg release tonight.

You remind me of an onion.

As the layers peel away,
I struggle not to cry
'cos you're just the same inside-

and in your heartless little way
you blinded me with love,
enough to make me stay-

to cut you up in little pieces
and chew you like
"Take that, you frickin' onion"

where  what is
(left)
to do (right):
this
expectant journey;
this between
the dawn yellow;
before the violet nights?

except, construct
innocuous
inconsequentially
Rubic cube spiels,
send
myself off  into
eternity.

(unto) the
mausoleum;
dig my grave:
before my last breath?
The autonomous;
casket maker:
asks?

I watched the moon creep across your chest,
Held your hips against mine,
Bare and alive we shared the twilight hours,
Tangled sheets among thighs,
Read poems beneath your waist,
Felt the shiver of your spine,
Heard nothings in the holy of night,
Gave way to the thought of forever,
Kept me awake till the sun

How fragile in innocence?
A voice held in a small body
Reaching out
Crying and sighing
All it says is
"I don't know if mommy and daddy are going to be married anymore. I'm scared"
Pulled close, whispering words calm him down
But I cannot save his innocence.

Feathered woman,
With wings that grew
between shoulder blades,
Point me to the gates,
Forgive my brooding,
The clocks stood still,
One hand pointed me north,
The other set to the south,
So please if I may ask of you,
To lend me your wisdom,
Point me to my destination,
Because time forgot to tell