Touch me if you know.
Walk with me
Hand-in-hand down this
Painful, crooked path
Of denial and deception that we pace,
Always paving.

This is my solemn vow
To you, my darling:
I will break free.

Cruel expectations, my only limit,
Not enough sand
To understand why.

She said, “Come on, we won’t
need our bodies anymore.”

I want to grasp her thorny outstretched arm
With the hope for a rose,
But the blood begins to flow and
I must let go.

The mystery haunts me,
Far too many memories exist without
Me, and I am
Increasingly
Doubting my own. I’ve been
Awake too long,
So has he.

Damaged Shimmer.

I held his breath,
And now I am
Waiting to breathe again.

I’ve found my place
Though, on the bridge
Between here and there.
I do not, and will not, wish
For ways to cross.

I can see the shadows
From the trees rising,
Over the bright green marsh.

I could be anywhere at this moment,
But here I remain.

Blood Red, same as the rest.
I am in love with the woman at the Plasma Center;
My veins pumping, full of minty sensation;
Plugged in, to the sound
The smell
The taste
Cooling the back of my tongue, near the throat,
And the inside of my
Chest.
Blood Red, same as the rest.
The machine spin cycles, Keeps us
Calm,
Clean. Blood Red, same as the
Rest.

The devil was never evil, just confused. So I am too.
I caught her before
She fell. The ambulance came and wrapped her up in blue.

Love and hate are not in opposition.
Survival
Requires them both to coexist.

And I can’t remember the last time I agreed with the arm
Or the army of truth.
No questions. No questions. There is no escape from the farm.


Maybe there was never a reason
Maybe we need imagination
Maybe nothing makes sense
Does that make sense?

Maybe its not supposed to
Maybe we can’t know evil
And we can’t know truth

Maybe our language represents
All of the lies we tie ourselves to
Maybe God created the world
And on the seventh day he slept in and hit the snooze.

Maybe there was supposed to be more to it
Maybe he said “Good enough,” and went
Back to his golden throne to sit.

He saved me, beat me up and gave me back
To the water, back to the river,
With the spider webs falling apart.
Back to the place I sat and I thought
And day turned into dark

Maybe we only talk to agree upon truth, and
Maybe my truth is a lie to you

An angel, singing
In the street.

I watched her breath,
It did not go far.

Tired heat, Ice splitting,
Beneath footsteps,
Pounding, down
The wintry avenue,

Passing the sweet
Smell of sorrow,

Where the corner Vicar
Told me
To be alone.

I found you instead,
Standing in the stairwell.

Your hair felt like
Feathers.

We spent the day
Chasing the sun,
Through the open door, and
Killing useless beauty.

I held the blood of
A noble ghost, the source
To works of ******* princes
And hotly discourse.

Your eyes, too old
Like glass, broken.
Cutting across thoughts,  
Floating away, unspoken.

We walked down the tracks,
And we smoked our cigars.
Our rational burning,
On stage for the stars.

Listen, you, who sit in the damp grass as the
sun arrives over the shadow of a broken day, The forecast
extirpates all the hate in this land grown up
too late but still clinging on to the month of may
Bird watchers,
        Bike riders,
                Bank robbers,
                         Blues singers
together make this world vibrate, accentuate
the hair of each and every nape after nape, I contemplate
how this day will end, which roads to mend, which twig to bend, but I,
I light up with the glow that could only come after a rain, all my stains
removed and thrown through the windowpane
I jump out, fall back and arrive in my final scene
Lights crash, crash through this day, beauty between,
If you don’t already have this engrained in your brain,
                *The brightest rainbows come after the rain.