I encircled her waist
with my hands and
lifted her, not as
a trophy, but
to  kiss.

little dark girl with
kind eyes
when it comes time to
use the knife
I won't flinch and
i won't blame
you,
as I drive along the shore alone
as the palms wave,
the ugly heavy palms,
as the living does not arrive
as the dead do not leave,
i won't blame you,
instead
i will remember the kisses
our lips raw with love
and how you gave me
everything you had
and how I
offered you what was left of
me,
and I will remember your small room
the feel of you
the light in the window
your records
your books
our morning coffee
our noons our nights
our bodies spilled together
sleeping
the tiny flowing currents
immediate and forever
your leg my leg
your arm my arm
your smile and the warmth
of you
who made me laugh
again.
little dark girl with kind eyes
you have no
knife. the knife is
mine and i won't use it
yet.

This rock
Spinning in its orbit around God
With oceans full of souls
And souls full of
wishes,
wants,
and whispers
so shallow like a baby's breath.

I've toiled and fought
and loved
and lusted
and lived seething secretly
in a seemingly impenetrable fog
and once the sun came out
the secrets were all gone but not forgotten

They were carved into stone
and torn into the flesh of me
And while I sat
stuttering
and muttering
in a drunken mess,
the sun came out once more upon this rock
and showed the perfect skin
was nothing more than old leather
cracked and craggy and full of holes
So many holes that my rib fell out and tumbled away.

There I sat upon this rock
with God and sun and sorrow
There I lay dying with a wet face
and the belief that there really was no tomorrow,
yet a spark was still in me somehow
Or perhaps it was just a soothing thought
that gave me a sense of peace even if just for now
that even though my fate seemed bought
there were still more lessons I would be taught
and more things for me to do while dying.

I sit and look out upon all the sorrows of the world, and upon all
    oppression and shame;
I hear secret convulsive sobs from young men, at anguish with
    themselves, remorseful after deeds done;
I see, in low life, the mother misused by her children, dying,
    neglected, gaunt, desperate;
I see the wife misused by her husband—I see the treacherous seducer
    of young women;
I mark the ranklings of jealousy and unrequited love, attempted to be
    hid—I see these sights on the earth;
I see the workings of battle, pestilence, tyranny—I see martyrs and
    prisoners;
I observe a famine at sea—I observe the sailors casting lots who
    shall be ****’d, to preserve the lives of the rest;
I observe the slights and degradations cast by arrogant persons upon
    laborers, the poor, and upon negroes, and the like;
All these—All the meanness and agony without end, I sitting, look out
    upon,
See, hear, and am silent.

You made it
onto my paper
from
in between my ribs
to
in between my lines
&
all I can do
is sharpen my pencil
every time
I reach the end
of each stanza

When the daylight fades to night,
when the sounds of traffic cease;
when the moon's a slice of heaven,
that's when my soul's at peace.

When the stars cry out in silence
when the darkness hides the light;
when sweet slumber covers me,
then I sense the world's all right.

When your love forgives my sinning,
when your strength, it makes me weak;
when I praise your name in prayer,
that's the solace that I seek.

When the wonder of your name,
becomes my only choice;
in the quiet of the room,
I hear your precious voice.

When the blessings flow like water,
when your grace becomes my song;
then the pace of life is pleasure,
as the days of life are long.