maybe

I'll write
                                               something

better tomorrow

to-night is one of those long nights
where i have a moon conversation
tell it my dreams & fears--it just spits cloud-wa-ter
back down in my face

where i climb the roof & clear
my throat--close my eyes
& pro-ject my melanchol-y toward the stars
punching the empty sky

it happens occasionally
some-times under a gibbous moon
(i don't have a choice)

where i lay on the cold grass in sweat-pants
shout & sing to the sky --or--
run a-round getting dirt in my toenails
swatting pine-cones out of the hands
of low-hanging branches

my ears & nose tip shine
under the feather orph-an
clouds

where there's still wi-fi no matter
how hard i tried to escape it

i get twitter-pated on a pretty girl's facebook
but never introduce myself in person

where i listen to mahler in the dark &
receive spectral messag-es

write scattered dew-drop poems like
ginsberg did

rock back & forth

maybe cry a little

rub one out--

finally
go to sleep a-round
dawn
----------------------------------------------------­----------
& wake again
snug as a bug
sleepy numb--reluctant
to find a ****-stain poem
w/ my last conscious fingerprint
expand-ed into cyber-space

i was standing on a street corner yesterday
and cars were whizzing passed me
i was reading nothing
i was drinking coffee
i was smoking
i was minding my own business

a man walked up to me on the street corner
and he asked me what time
my watch said it was

i told him.


he walked away.


my watch hasn't kept time
for weeks.

i am useless.
truth is, i knew this.
truth is, i blew this.

truth is, i'm stupid.

i am a waste.
let me forget how she tastes.
let me wake up in
a strange & awful place.

let me eat paste.

i am neglect.
do not treat me with respect.
just ignore me, perfect.

i am regret

it's rainy cold days like this when
i don't want to write at all i'd rather
sit on the porch as it comes down in curtains
& rushes through the downspouts onto
crickets squeaking happily & watch the
gigantic fox squirrel that's nearly as old as me
bounce dutifully across the yard

i tell myself i was never in jr high
humidity-caked-on-makeup never turned me on
& i wasn't remotely curious about sweater mountains
i convince myself that i do my best stuff
when the sun is shining anyway
or the stars are falling from the black sky
beside the esoteric but flavorful moon
& i'd rather get coffee-drunk & giggle at cartoons
watch the world jitter through emblazoned pink eyelids
or ******* to a time-lapse video of a dazzling
white tulip stretching up toward the sun
when i have the gypsy cave to myself

but i bust out the pen & crack knuckles
or pull up a pristine word document
& scar it anyway as the rain drops down to a drizzle
still kicking down the puffs of dust & lime-rock
that usually flutter around & wait for
the internal river of thought to overflow or
crumble thru the dam of my mouth & i shout
like a neurotic with savage zest &
thunder pulsing thru his veins

i don't want to merely know it
i want to feel it

i remember taking morning impulse beach trips with william
to the white sand on the right hand coast of old florida
wearing sunglasses on our eyes
and our hearts in our front shirt pockets
jesus, must have been twenty ten because
i was too young to drink in bars
and he couldn't drive
the windows were down and we were catching
intense sun on the opposite sides of our faces
listening to a playlist of songs we wanted played at our funerals
swore we'd be there for each other forever
as we choked down stolen purple vitamin waters
trying to smoke a divine bowl while discussing
the advantages of miller high lifes over
pabst blue ribbons for light beach drinking with
two tabs each on our tongues or buried in our cheek-meat
as we crossed that lion's bridge
dreaming we'd drift off into that cloudless blue sea-sky

i remember falling in love
for what must have been the first time
half drunk on champagne and ojay
blasted out and overdosing on sunlight
sitting pretty on the carpet floor with jennifer
with our legs tangled together
whispering secrets playing with shiny trinkets
and small meaningful totems
while the other boys laughed
and smoked on the balcony

i'm suppposed to be writing the world's greatest poem
but i get distracted by fractal ocean memories
because i'm already twenty-five and nowhere special
we've both sobered up by now i guess but i
saw ol' bill just the other day and we still
find time to laugh and sing to each other over tacos
he'll be married soon and i've learned finally that it takes
more than ******* someone to keep my bones warm
we've gotten our **** together so to speak but seperately
i'm still getting used to revealing myself to myself
figuring out how to be honest with the little boy in the mirror
how to be in love with my big nose
and that i'm really only twenty four

we used to lie awake at night
in the winter months
i kept a warm water bottle
at my feet like it was the old days on the frontier

we used to bet against freedom
and the people out there
"i bet i never make it out of here alive"
and clock the psych patients pacing
with the shards of
bathroom tiles in their hands

or make promises to it
"i'm gonna drink up all the freedom i can find out there"
"i'll snort all the dirt road dust
that the watermelon bus kicks up"
"i'm gonna mainline it directly into my vein
so much that my head gets heavy
and i swing back
and aspirate my one and only dream
and ******* into my blue jeans"

been digging for my heart
it always seems out of reach
but i’m reading the chart
i’m talking to trees

not too sure of the politics
can’t keep up with the fuss
got this coat from the lost
& found, i get looks on the bus

we all glide thru the city night
we’re all taking this trip
we’re all using the same hard drugs
but we’re trying to quit

gonna grow my hair long again
find a wavelength i trust
buy a new quilted cardigan
find someone’s mother
to ****

the imbecile boy found love again
walking aimlessly & self-conscious
with the year's regrets falling
behind like fat blossoms in
a summer shower out of
my longing i had invented her
it was by happy accident or
a subtle shift of scenery
in the numinous grove that
i entered that spring with an empty heart
so i wrote her all these songs
so i could live again
cue the hallelujah choir singing
'this is ours, the impossible'

my rib-cage expands
every time i think of her
like recalling a beautiful dream at breakfast
through a yawning smile
my prophetic dove lying next to me in bed
the first flicker of reanimation
with the heat of her veins
interdependent with mine
stripped to the waist
with tresses of her hair across my chest
& shoulder i'll thrive in a forest of it

i launched 'i love yous'
from a sun-lit country porch
& they traveled 300 postcard miles
over roofs & the tops of old elms
to collapse into her ear, exhausted
now i am the pen, she is the paper

she is delicate but
my love has wild-cat claws
& live pink lips above smooth
wingless shoulders & i am hypnotized
by the adoration & light reflected in her eyes
i built this cathedral of words for her
these towers like puffs of smoke
& exultation rising in our slow dream
i carved this river through the broad valley
where the fish nibble at
dazzling afternoon raindrops
while i get lost in her body awhile
this kaleidoscope is a place i could stay

repossession & co-awareness
now we're strolling across the air
together in perpetual acceptance
gliding like the first morning orioles
through six panes of clear blue sky
over the circumambient hills of the new age
toward the alabaster sea
with her bright compassion pressed tight
against my side for the journey
we laugh softly as our hands engage
never again to disengage

you made my heartbeat patter
in the driveway starlight
i was waiting for you to arrive
and i felt wonderful, child-like and perfect

i felt electrified like a timber-wolf
slipping quietly thru silver winter woods
as i watched with patience as
your silhouette emerged
you drifted low to find me
you were a brightly colored kite
an angel flitting in a hanbok
delivered to me by six black horses

you slipped into the soil of my body
like a whisper
i was already halfway there
in one sense and
fully realized in another
when i took your hand
i touched it with my hand
and i saw the secret harvest
growing inside

we were on the edge
of what we wanted
as our hands folded
into each other
into newness
i promised
and you
promised too

and a wind curl
blew our souls away together
a breath-defying disappearance
into the tented sky
into oblivion
into this future

take me down to the river
bathe my body in that brown water
caress me as i writhe and shiver
i promise you hell cannot be hotter
so bury me deep in that southern wet

because last night i found her lying
in a pile of white sheets on the floor
the sunset kissed her ribcage
but it wasn’t heaving anymore
her hand still gripped a ripped page
a receipt from the drugstore

i thought i’d get to be happy this time
i thought good guys had it made
but i’ve only been inching
toward the razor’s edge and
finally i’ve been shaved
and mama i am not happy
i’m starved out and paper thin
i’m alone and sad
and scared and crazed
i’m a ghost in my own skin

so drag me to that ******* river
down to that soft and ******* sand
hang me high from that
big shade giver
the way we always planned
the one that held us as we sat
for hours on warm afternoons
hoist me up and
cinch it tight
above the honeysuckle as it blooms
let me swing and meet my lover
send my *** to that restful night
lie back and watch me swoon

meanwhile it's my lunch hour --
the sun burns the cinderblocks pink
12:40 on a thursday with sawdust in my hair
and a piece of lead pinched between
forefinger and thumb fighting the
sudden onset feeling of vivid panic
i'm obliterated by the sense of being alone and
lost outside the plexus of purpose

my docile body is being stretched open
i am churning unsexed and weak
weeping on the steel edge of hysteria
half gouged and puttering beneath
this burden of butterflies in my chest
the girl is a great distance away but
maybe she'll notice my plumage rising
and receding like a brittle sail on a
dark green sea or hear
my cells test the very limits of elasticity
diverging terribly into flamboyant aqueducts
and humming on the wind like
the plow tractor trumpeting in a far-away field

she is a fawn lying on a summer picnic blanket
sprawled on the rolling meadow as if it were a beach
a genuine beauty in the white of the sun's light
wearing a pair of reflective sunglasses holding
her face puckered up expecting a kiss
and a delicate fire surges through me
my eyes are blinded by the green grass
radiant all around her
and my pulse thunders inside my ears
longing to be immersed with her in safety
ripped up by a lust to be accepted and free
and folded together softly against the hard world

i am being hollowed out into electric rivulets
by the painful consciousness of my isolation
by the broiling heatwave of july against
the longest winter of my life
my heart aches in my front shirt pocket
waiting on my phone to light up or ring
and so i fill my ***** glistening torso
with what i hope is a lethal dose
of papaya-coconut water

and so there she stands
your daughter liberty
alone and weak
because you left her unattended
in a sundress and fireman's coat with blood
on her chin and her face contorted
for the cameras to see
stupefied on the edge of the gravel pit
with the confetti ash swirling in her hair
and her eyes filled with animal fear
as her slack body slams against the railing
and a swan song swells in her throat

they use billy clubs to beat back the rats
under the skull of the moon and
the fickle stars like frantic pouncing eagles
the neighborhood dying has scratch marks all over it
diamonds etched in storefront windows
and rollicking clouds of tear gas to make it fun
there's a ****** taking a **** out in the open street
and where's the flag? oh i remember
it's snagged on a parapet five stories up
burning in the ignored sunset between
the silent buildings

we are an enormous pile of sentient garbage
coming up from the rot wearing life preservers
advancing with the picket line tide
blowing flashbang death on flugelhorns
outside the framework of the 2-party system
invented by the mongrels in hollywood
guerrillas moving in troupes thru the city streets
filled with exhilarating hope and
plumes of smoke insurgents chanting
violence is american as apple pie

i keep my tv dark to reflect the flames
of the grocery store outside and my insides
feel ripped up, i've never had a shave this close
squish my denim body against the window like a telescope
to hear the growl from the depths under the city
this is the moment just before something big happens

this is the flashover
this is when the panic begins
there's a man in a tree out in palmdale and
i need the morphine to tell me it isn't my fault
i need my pastor to tell me god doesn't lie
tonight the fuses blew out on an entire continent
tonight i wept

for my birthday
god gave me ten thousand white birds
so i wouldn't be alone
but i am alone
and for the sake of no one
i'm still awake
hot under the electric lights
deep in my own soup
so i am writing to you
dear lover
i am flying to you
over the asylum's main gate
gliding amidst horns and headlights
and i hope you are home
curled in between cool linens
i am writing to you
in every poem i've ever written
badly, but with sincerity
small-voiced and whimsical
i am trying to love you
love me
i have no shame

we had a lot going for us
i had found the glue
the secret that holds all things
together, it was you
you were my perfect place
where the outside noise
couldn't intrude

i swam to you
and you swallowed me whole

Cody -- hey buddy -- something
I want to ask you about;
Are her eyes still ice-emeralds
And her skin like a cloud?
Do you think Allison will
Sleep with me now?
Does she still have a soft-spot
For dreamers; down-and-outs?
Red-eyed poseurs, beautiful losers,
Fuckbois, dry-drunks, and fidgeting louts?
If so send her my way
Or tell her give me a shout
I'm ****** up, I'm so lonely
They just let me out.

come find me in the lurch
with the dogs beneath the avenues
on barefeet and scars on my knees
arms extended in hypothesis into the
sultry sky, bridging the gulf
between god and myself

i am a prisoner who
spends restless nights staring into the void
my wounds, to all appearances healed-over
open themselves inwardly and leak freely
thru the cavernous expanse of my body
absentmindedly retracing my torment with
the callous pads of my fingers in the dark
dancing over my own flesh like a cold stranger
my lips twist into a grimace and my cheeks flash hot
and wet as a bolt of grief sinks itself down deep into me

i am alone here
lost in listlessness gasping
for breath on this tumbled mattress
alone as i've ever been
with the clang of the bars and
the muted squawk of the captain on the radio
when it rains i am alone with it
alone too out in the sun and grass
and concertina wire
alone with the impatience and courage
particular to the condemned
listening to remote nestlings
howl themselves hoarse in the treetops
searching for the motherbird come to
subdue and nourish them as i am hoarse
and i am searching

oh beautiful mother please find my
withered eaten heart discarded like
a cut flower and sanctify it

my heart breaks again and again
under the reiterated gusts of shame
my memory thrusts against me

come and find me
look down here
because some of us will not see
heaven when we die
instead of tasting the delicious picnics
in paradise accompanied by angelic
flute-and-lute bands we will be caked
in layers of fresh **** constantly
raw sewage on our raw skin with
hairy black cellar rats singing the blues
***** by wild beasts dragged by devils
thru the packed streets of hell consumed
by a hopeless desire to start a new life of
chastity but there will be no second chance
just the eternity we deserve

in my mind there is a garden
and a combustion engine in my chest
there's soil beneath my fingernails and
wolves out by the timberline
i'm spinning out into the blackness
i'm dizzy from the searchlights peering in
i'm scared i've wasted the best years of my life
i'm just trying to be honest

in the garden there is a fruit tree
yielding sorrows and sweet things
it's where i go when i am lonely
and i wonder if it can save me

i ask it for the secrets
the hidden treasure of the garden
let me peek behind the curtain
i've been waiting for the harvest
and i want to know for certain
if i was put here for a purpose
is the mess that i am making
really a blessing

i can talk at the stars
from my body on
these sticky southern nights
in the garden in my mind
their light falls down
and breaks open on the leaves
all genteel and kind
and on my calloused palms
and on the bullet in my teeth

and when the wind brings the rain
down from the righteous sky
it soaks the secret compartments
and what's hiding on the inside
the burning pain between my shoulder blades
and the things i tell myself are important
my ***** shirt clings to the engine
and i laugh out loud
from atop this pile of rubble
in the garden in my mind

i'm still searching for to find
what they say cannot be found
but in the pictures it seemed so simple
like a wheel that turns around
it doesn't have an address
and i know you don't believe it
but it's just like joy and sadness
now i'm old enough to see it

the rain stops and the sun
kisses me splendid
bathing like a little white bird
i'm having a golden moment
down in the mole-claw dirt
and what if it never ended
just a quiet kind of singing
at the edges of my dreaming
always repeating the song it sang back then:
there is never anything to fear here

then the immense mass heaves up
and the streets all fill with diamonds
in vivid hot designs
and the country contemplates
the pagan city as a zero.
then the country, driven to pondering,
panics. oh, how the fire frequents the sky
with straightforward accumulation.
it boils the sluggish blood.
there is too much
too much fire in the hands
too much fire in the hearts and eyes
this engine consumes too much
and the fire rages out of control.

in the drifting smoke, i saw bodies
burned to bare bones and the survivors
lunge forward. the chorus girls sprawl
on the sidewalk and are swept away.
the quick flame is the dividing line
the end of the sabbath.

the books all burst into flames and the dancing
is boisterous. my cheek pressed into the wall
of a skyscraper how satisfying. the falling waves
of sparks uplifting and gyrating with the kickers.

follow the long curve of hose-water with
your aching neck and see
the influencers arriving drenched to the skin
in fire-spray to divert the journalists. but they are
helpless and impotent and the edifice slips into
the pavement. this is the unexpected harvest.
and i preach nothing.

the world has turned and said
just wait okay
now is the time, okay
you can stop, okay
you can go home
it's okay

the world has turned into
a blue bear
skidding thru a white
floodlight

the sun is a red lion
dripping wet paint onto day
the moon is a wet black dragon
with spirals in its eyes
and stars are the fireworks
that light the way

the men of the world have turned
the tears in my eyes
into glass
my eyes into glass
the world has turned
my body into dust
into dust
into dust
my body into dust

my favorite time to see her is in the morning
so when i found her in the kitchen
with the orange dawn sunlight
swarming in on her face, i was elated
i felt a rectogenital tingle

she was in last night's liquid eyeliner
& a faded Prince tshirt & just a
bikini bottom as she zigzagged her hips toward me

i ran quickly thru the things
i wished i hadn't said last night
& watched her face bloom into
a pout i was born to kiss

she smelled like new shampoo
& the half joint sitting in the
conchshell ashtray sending its musk
ceilingward in ribbons

when we embraced she let me grab her ***
& that's how i knew all was forgiven
then she sashayed to the percolator &
returned blowing softly on a bulging
mug she ate fruit while i steeped & asked her
what our plan was for the day

"the beach, dummy, look at me"
which i did & she followed my gaze
down & nudged her **** to the side
to tease me with its unfettered sway
& the shifting quotation marks of her *******
against her stretched thin shirt

i slipped into an involuntary squint
as i brought the smoldering paper up
& pinched it to my whistle my gaze lingered
on those coral pink lips but
she kept her eyelids lowered
wrinkled her nose
& stood with one hip out
the other knee bent into the apricot light
& stared not at me but at the
dust motes floating in the soft warm mosaics of light
bouncing in time with the pulse from her temple
& my heart melts volcanic

the city is dead
the heart in a tourniquet
i'm in the ivory tower
high above the dull roar
my mouth on a megaphone
but it's hard to explain
a subtle chemical change
we're all cinderella
as the midnight devours
so close your eyes
we'll wait it out
i didn't consent but
you woke me up for this
when i was dreaming deeply
and now everyone else is comatose
we're all alone now
standing behind closed doors
the silence has ravaged me
this raw wound is my home

I kept my golden hair long and my wings unshorn
to escape the magnet-hold of the earth mother. I am
a flying splinter longing for purity above all; the
ascending son, the moth mad for the light.

I was the great ancient hunter battling the new
psychic terrors and herding the demons of cynicism
and suspicion into clouds like the holy white buffalo
god. Tracking the ghost animal resources of allegiance
and truth against the abject sky of platitudes extended
by industrial *******.

I was waiting to be compensated by the malicious
one for my dainty life above ground. To be whipped
by the same wind who untangled the great sphinx.
To be interrogated by the shape-changing sick god
that dwells on the back side of the moon among
crystallized bat wings and ripped-apart bodies
of the birds we sent him.

I was wallowing in the titanic ashes -- hibernating
to become more human. Tasting the soot of the
death of my father, the sky-king. I was feeding my
body on sleeplessness; meditation, fasting,
occasional flagellation. I was starving out the snake
in my spinal cord, who once grew fat and lethargic on
lager, ecstasy, ******* machismo and astounding
mythologized ***.

I was the paltry son of a weak puddle of indecision
which I have emulated as the sacred king. Drowning
myself in alcohol, living in a dank burrow under
he earth; an oven bird. Existing like mycelium in
the endless subterranean bog.

Inhaling the disparate ether of stardust and
becoming buoyant; then
Exhaling the syrupy ambrosia of solar power into
the blades of grass which grew up through my mouth
and formed a pillow for my silent dreams.

I am the eternal garden boy.
Spading the soil, preparing a place,
sifting ashes into the bedwork from
all my previous warrior deaths. Here I
will grow the abundant climbing vines,
the exotic grains, the fragrant wild flowers
and rare apple trees in geometric design.

And she will approach me there, a sprouted seed --
by the fountain of course, that eternal spring. The
girl of solar fire, the girl who loves gold, and we will
lie together but never to each other. Kissing the fresh
sutures, we will quench each others' souls and be
hermetically sealed together there in the old stone-
walled garden, rolling among the lilies on heaven's
green swell, letting sunlight fall on us like the anvil.

Cloistered, caressing, sequestered in the
warm earth now, bundled together in the sod,
tranquil with the supple bliss of satiety when
every muscle lies snugly like a curved petal
at peace inside the corolla.

Here I will blend rawness into passion,
obsession into desire. Turn brittle
brown manure into shiny green
leaves, luscious roses; Breed
epiphanies from disaster.

hey looky here i'm
sun-browned & painless
barefoot & shameless
spent several hrs today
on the beach
w/ a girl who prefers to
remain nameless

single & ready
to cling mingle &
sing fling jingles
in a string ******
or be king tingle
& wring Pringles
crumb thingies out
of your box-
spring & belly-
button ring in the
mornings.

i'm just a silly boy
in a punk rock tshirt
at a local swamp show
shorts cut highwater
above the knee i'm
trying to not smoke
cigarettes anymore
or do as much coke
& that's not working
& i'm trying to convince
this girl to roll my bones
& that's not working
so i told her i live my life
without a harness or
a safety net & i told her
i play piano mostly jazz
i told her about the tiger lillies
back home that bloom & grow
the size of a fat man's head
told her to shut off her phone
& i told her how twilight mutes
the soft bell of the sky on
the coast if she's willing to get
beach-sand ***** & i told her
about the skeletal driftwood
borne by the tide like a ballerina in flight

but i didn't tell her about the scars
in my eyes or on my heart
i didn't say anything about
where i got the shirt & she didn't ask
& i didn't tell her i'm gonna
write her into a poem

there's a complicated relationship
between the sun my cat & me

so she wakes me up and i travel
to the kitchen. i fertilize her bowl
with a sprinkling of kibble or a left-
over half of a chicken blt from the
night before & she gladly eats it &
scurries off to claim the last warmth of
my sleep-spot for a pre-dawn nap
she's waiting for the sun to rise & warm
her completely

so what am i supposed to do?
she will wait there i assume until i return home
i am suffered then to toil in the kitchen for my own dinner
now the sun has gone again since it's burned me
quite enough after i put on pants & boots & reflective eyewear etc. this morning and for what

the sun has graced my skin
with her perfect smile
but now it's all dark
there is no reward
the moon is seething jealous
& the cat hasn't been fed.

twenty toes deep in daytona sand
i asked her if she'd stay
all night with me
and let me be her man
she shaded her eyes against
the southeastern sun with her hand
grinned and said never

but i know the dunes
shift with the wind
the pendulum swings to
and kronk pulled the lever

so i drove real slow
down the dusty sunset coast
and she straddled my arm
along those winding limestone roads
and bounced all the way
back to her daddy's farm

i've never been this wet
is what she whispered
with her tongue on my chest
and i really liked her style
she meant the rain coming
thru the open window
if i had to guess
and so we stayed like that awhile

now i'm still hiding out from the curse
and i don't even miss her much
just a few hundred tons worth
but some stones are better
left unturned

she has endless power
over me because I
gave her my warm body
to wrap herself in & when
she did I had fireflies living
in my heart-chest & sometimes
she'd hum to them a lullaby thru
my chapstick smeared lips
or lure them out by
tickling my ribs & calling herself
mrs-my-last-name

that was two winters back but
I can still hear her perfect white teeth
& tongue bounce as they pronounce
the last vowels in it

the sun paints squiggles on the table
over rooftops stands heat
but down here i freeze
the city is laid bare in the midday light
and it's the same town as before
where i saw no one but myself
in dusty hotel mirrors
yellowed wallpaper
back then everyone saw what i didn't want to see

i haven't been free for too long
i said
i don't want scenes
i don't want tears
i want to enjoy the short life at long last
there's nothing but the two of us
here in the shade
here, where time stands still
a leaf paints a shadow on your face
and there are no answers
because there are no questions

remember when i held
your hair up while you
danced slow against me?

remember i leaned down
to kiss your hot neck and
the grin you struck me with
made blood flood to my ears?

remember how our sweat swam
together and we both almost
lost conciousness that night
then bleary-eyed i fell asleep
on your tummy?

zappa blows cartoon music
out of a cerulean blue kazoo
in my kitchen while i
eat greasy cold pizza
out of a crusty cardboard box
& petunia the kitten gnaws
on my sock ankle achilles
& it's in moments like this
that i'm a-ok with being alone
my **** could stay soft for the
rest of my life no problemo
i'm beautiful alone i tell myself
out loud & petunia stops chewing
acts like she understands me
but i know it's only
temporary this feeling of adequacy
& full-time fulfillment tomorrow
i'll wake up cold & lonely again
& pining for smooth thighs
& butterflies
& a girl whose two best friends committed suicide

she pulls my blurry face from the mirror
and begs me to look out

begging me away from my folded brow
and my big nose
begging me to turn my back on the
turbulent mythology behind me
and look toward
the miracle lightning happening
all the time
all around us

she begs me to see it the way she does
myself and the world

all the smiles on the bright-eyed faces
all the slow moving water
glimmering in the starlight
all the kaleidoscope trees
with their infinity fingers
scratching at the sky

and so we are emerging
correction:
she is already dancing in the twilight
and i have begun to crawl toward the glow
i am a small broken-open seed
and she is the daylight on the face
of the sloping hill above me

she wants to introduce me to
all her friends beside smoldering coals
and all the painted clouds
on the yawning horizon and
all the neighborhood cats
that she nicknamed

at night in her bed
my feet hang off the end
hovering over the abyss
or the discarded clothing on the floor
rest them on the wood
she says begging from
her knees in front of me
bury them here in the ground
she begs me to grow roots
and stick around

at night in her bed
when i'm drunk on
the smell in her neck
and we're churning up
a confluence together
sometimes i wonder
if she's more in control than i am
with her hands on my chest
and her whispered words on my breath
i'm raptured
dumbstruck by the grip
lobotomized by her tongue

but you should've seen her when
i bought her flowers
the huge embrace
the long wet kiss
she doted on them for weeks
admiring them like the turning of planets
in a telescope
and i was admiring her then too

you should've seen her hair
that first time
the shapes it made in the sunbeam
like a hurricane candle
flickering against the wall
the way it tangled in my fingers
like her whole body was absorbing me

you should've seen her beg