I’m just passing it along,
All has come – to become gone

But for a fleeting instant at most
love is a guest of an eager host

I become aware that sender I must be,
which is how it now arrives with thee

This golden dove, thy gaze, the time
Carried by messenger from the Divine

Over the Bizarre – this cloud passing by –
Is a trader’s exchange across a bartering sky

Tis only suspended by my arresting eye
Then off again, I let it fly

A poem, a song, a painful illness
Ecstatic whirling around the axis of stillness

Gone from gone, as gifts unwrap
What’s given is done, to be given back

Finding it’s way to hand and heart
By hand and heart once had a start

So you who arrive had come before
I saw another close a door

Waiting, a package sent to ourselves
arriving like stars in a hearts black well

I lean over the edge of introspection
Down to dark waters of a captive reflection

In the ripples of light and shadow I see
A present returned, and the present is me

Am I light emitted or light received
Where am I on the wheel of destiny

All I seek is its cycle’s center
Blessed reunion of recipient and sender

God undoes everything
From interstellar crystalline
To keep a distance in between
Each fair feather
in gusting flocks
in shifting weaves
with sequenced wings
numbered bezels of the clock

ripples role in circles, serpentine
spilt in pools of synchrony
beneath the melt of icicles
drop by drop, a metronome
ticks echoes in the vacancy
and tocks within those secret spaces
of snowflakes falling
and that between
a billion stars reflected, all,
in separate eyes that
once had seen until
all light went out in unison
with one wincing blink,
so darkened skies.

Such well planned placement,
where all things converge
into the vacant.
Where all things converge,
Into the vacant.

Distraction! The skirting board is alive.
Last year's grit at the back of a desk;
you have a story to write,
a good friend to deceive, phone calls
to make to indifferent ears.
Dirt accumulates, black algae
in the carpet, and nothing on your mind.

There is an ****** in the sidelines,
it will have to wait – a soap opera,
a bath of salt, a supply of coffee:
catalyst for the morning,
some razor blade, a brand new face.
“A necessity!”she drools, a fragrant potion,
whilst children cry and die in Gaza.

The cigarette falters in its promise,
the fantasist friend, last year's prophet;
you have a life to live
but that can wait another year.
Love sits in your mouth, fat accumulation;
tasteless reprieve from hunger, a motion-
anything to escape stillness, immediacy.

Men in drag lift their skirts to the screen,
the fool is on the hill, the billboard; a dream
of fame litters your focus, your self-hood.
There is a pyramid built for better people,
all these old institutions – indefatigable ladder!
The rings of tea caramelise on the table,
married to the places you have been before.

Elusive enterprise – unfulfilled spark,
you suffocate in oxygen, heat lost to air,
embrace yesterday's comfort, tomorrow's snare.
Take another day inside this indistinguishable prison.
The walls are glass. Eligible, you vote for Hope.
For the drug of the future, a disbursed present
for minimum wage, accepting slave; your eventual grave.

We are young men buried in books
Shoveling words every day
As we are gradually shaped into tools.

Ours minds drained deep in the pools
Of knowledge. So they say
We are young men buried in books.

We find ourselves caught in hooks
Of wisdom seekers shall we pray?
As we are gradually shaped into tools.

Exhausted, some will turn into crooks
While we proudly remain grey
We are young men buried in books.

We bear fruit of hope from the roots
Of pain so follow the rules we lay
As we are gradually shaped into tools.

Are we zombies in schools?
In our paths we never stray.
We are young men buried in books
As we are gradually shaped into tools.

Reality flashbacks
life spinning on a dime
open the doors of perception
let's commit a crime

the daughters of the street begin
their journey in vibrancy,
pretending they hadn't been
afraid of their own voices.

the soles of their worn-out shoes
beat in rhythm on the soil
that breathes tulips and coughs dandelions.

some of them will be wishes,
objects of desire in the eyes of men
who look like they have lived
their whole lives in subway seats,
ready to strike.

and i thought i would stay in this place
of directions and dreams,
thinking i could pick one off the sidewalk
like a dropped penny.

they never keep the buildings up
long enough to rust,
rain doesn't stop anyone.

suddenly there are two of them
facing each other's weaknesses
and neither will give in.

she's up to her neck in
unrealistic expectations,
he is up to his in all his confidence.

the only difference
is doubt, splashing up to her nose,
trying to get into her head.

and when she looks in the mirror
all she sees is who her mother was
and who she wants her daughter to be.

my hands are tired from all the squeezing
i do when i'm alone,
trying to get every last drop of
anything they'll give me
when i know i deserve better things.

maybe i'll just walk to work
and see the flowers on the other side of the road.

i wish they'd toss me over there like a stone
or there was some crosswalk and a crowd
i could hide myself in
and pretend i am one of them.

there is only concrete here.
how can we grow anything in it?
yes, we have the water and sun,
but nowhere for our roots to stand.

it's getting crowded on this side of the street
they speak of throwing some into the river of cars
so we have more room for our feet.
oh, won't you let some of us cross
so we can cultivate
the flowers on the other side of the road
they're drooping under your shadow.

As I fixed your collar,
my fingertips barely
grazed your pulse
but it was just enough
to feel the blood rushing
underneath your skin.
Pulse quickened: check.
I only had to make
brief eye contact,
look up
and down again,
to see the expansion
of your pupils.
Eye dilation: check.
Don't think that
I didn't
hear or feel
the breath you didn't
realize you
were holding in.
Shortness of breath: check.
Hmm.
Interesting.

It comes full circle
Each time you fall
Fall down so far
That the dark part
Is mandatory
You wallow around in it
Toxic sludge
So foul
It seeps into your bones
Round and round
You fight the round
But it keeps you down

It comes full circle
Each time you fall
Hit the ground so hard
That the pain place
Awaits
Your own private chimera
Terrorizes
Each beat of your heart
How can you defeat
This wicked vicious *****

It comes full circle
Each time you die
Confront the sorrow
That lurks inside
When days gone by
One after the next
Each step
Devil hexed

It comes full circle
Each time you’re there
Engulfed in cancerous
Despair
Grudge against it
Climb up
Claw out
When you remember
What’s forgotten about
Run outside into the night
And look for the pale moon light

seraphs in the sky,
they come chanting,
a thousand wings beating,
drinking from storms.
the window in the kitchen
flew open, bringing snow
and their shadows,
aligned with their forms.
mars and mercury may think
about this day,
and never tell their secret
to the moon.
the thought bruised my head
purple as the nebulae,
or summer's last sunset.
she twirls around the room,
turning with the earth
on its axis,
as i toss in bed.
enchanted, she reaches
for a hand of mine,
i give her one of venus.
now it is just i,
and dew drops,
beads on a web.
i do not dare disturb,
stir a puddle, or step
in any of the water
so this woman, mysterious,
may drink again.

Remember 4th grade?
When we used to buy those orange candies and the blue marbles
But we never had more than 10 bucks so we always had to choose
But I guess the times have changed
Because all we buy now are packs of cigarettes and cans of *****

Remember 5th grade?
I memorized the rare candy cheat and you memorized the master ball one
Oh the good times when we used to play Pokemon and zwinky
But I guess the times have changed
Because now we're all about DOTA and call of duty

Remember 7th grade?
You fell in love and  a week later you fell out of it
And then you smashed that thing... What was it? A photo frame?
I was just standing there trying not to laugh at you
And two days after that, you yelled at me for taking her name

Remember 8th grade?
We used to play basketball all day
I was 4'11" and you were 5'2"
And although it was just three inches
I looked like a little ****** in front of you

But some things never change
Like those marbles and the place where we buried them
I bet they are still as beautiful
As they were back then

Yes,some things never change
Like the part of my mind which memorized that cheat
A44A FB0B 6808 D662
I can't believe I still remember that ****

Yes,some things never change
Like the pieces of that photo frame
And the fact that you still hate her
And the fact that I still call her "The ***** who shall not be named"

Yes,some things never change
Now I'm 5'11" and you're 6'2"
But its still three inches
And I still look like a ****** in front of you

Yes,some things never change
Like the part of me which loved you then
Because I still do
And all these memories
that are made out of you.