Now and then I like to look in the mirror and pretend there's no reflection.
Pretend that there is no existence and no possibility
for the imperfection that haunts that slab of float glass and aluminum daily.

        sickly skin, natural scowl
                 cracking lips,
      bloodshot eyes forming tears.


Now and then I like to stand in front of the mirror and close my eyes.
That way I can ignore what is dulling the bright surface
and synthesize an image on my eyelids that doesn't hang so stale.

     shining crown, sword and
               shield, stand
     in triumph on boney field.

Now and then I like to draw on my mirror until no space is left but eye holes.
Then I can keep staring intently and be disillusioned
as to how my soles have become hopelessly glued to this tile mausoleum.

     wings take me higher than
                   feet ever
      could, grazing the clouds.

But most of the time I just turn out the lights.

December;
Biting cold
Stinging regrets
A year's entirety
Lost in the threads
Of space and time
One more year rubbed from your life-line

Less hearts to warm
Less gatherings to endure
Tinsel glistens in the draft
Prickly pine needles stab
Dry, calloused, aging hands
The tale of Bethlehem
does not explain who I am
or where I'm going
Is it easier, knowing?
Every question answered as the wind's blowing,
roads and trees groaning

The end of the beginning of the rest of your life
We embrace with lists of grandeur
Resolutions ****
From the root
An autumn fade,
A crack change
Like we found all the chilling answers
to our silent questions
in the dead December air

When
                                                         ­                                                               wi­ll                                      *I

                ­                            




                                ­                      find

                               ­                                                         the­ true




                                                        ­                              meaning


of
       my
                                                              ­                                                                 ­                                       









                ­                                                                 ­                                                                 ­             *life.?

She only tells the truth
in the mornings.
Sunlight cracking through
the windows across her
face just as sure as the grin
that I put across her face.
Whispered words that
make her grin echo across
my face.

She only tells the truth
in the mornings,
but I wouldn't trade the nights
for the world.

Nothing I could
ever write would
capture the way
you make me feel
when you're not even trying.

...the tides swoop upon and siege the beaches
seafoam tickles my toes
***** shuttle back to their
Mother Ocean
pink clouds are entitled to this sundown
and they form like milk puddles on the horizon
and then I face it,
in these soft conditions,
I love you
reaching over to you
tiny electrical signals from my soul
jump across space and touch your hand
and, a warm
glow emits.

these don't happen often,
memories of moments
that cannot be replaced.
they're like winning the lottery,
the full moon in the sky,
or falling in love with someone's face.
they're mental,
not hard copied photographs.
the kind that can't be captured with a flash,
but rather measured by the sound of a someone's laugh.

i will wade out
                        till my thighs are steeped in burning flowers
I will take the sun in my mouth
and leap into the ripe air
                                       Alive
                                                 with closed eyes
to dash against darkness
                                       in the sleeping curves of my body
Shall enter fingers of smooth mastery
with chasteness of sea-girls
                                            Will i complete the mystery
                                            of my flesh
I will rise
               After a thousand years
lipping
flowers
             And set my teeth in the silver of the moon

Stop
Laughing like that.
you sound **A bit
Pathetic.

Hide that smile.
hIde that frown.
Thank your lucky stars.

Steam from the shower
Clears the mind and
Reveals the
mArks left behind
because I am Too fair or
should I say Caucasian
looking, Hispanic
doesn't comE
acrosS clearly like the mind.

Thank you, thank you, thank you, to
Everyone but me
becAuse I never got
anywheRe on my own.

Here lies the secret,
Eat it like dessert:
All of this has been done before
Little doesn't even come close to describing me.

Melt into movement
Ease into enjoyment
kNeel into knowing
Drown in deliverance.

Scratch.
Cover.
Again.
Repeat.