in a house full of

                                  nothing

the camera
l
u
r
k
s
like a ******,

silently

                                                     watches

the floor weep into it's
--------------------------------------FOUNDATION----------------­----------------------------

and the knock!
                 knock!
                   knock!

coming from the                                                              ­  
                                                                                                         closet door

echos
  chos
   hos
    os

and we sit
and stare
at
heart-winning photographs;
the children we used to
be

                                                       we  silently

seep in the remembrance;

narcissus
was
   not
     in
       love
with himself

he was
  in
    love
       with
         h-h i-i s-s   s-s h-h a-a d-d o-o w-w,
the perceived


                                                        nothin­g


Just a trick
of  -   -   -   light
f
a
  l
    l
     i
      n
        g

out of books
like
l
e
  a
   v
    e
     s

of emotion,
like

F

       A

                 T

                              H

                             ­             O

                                                 ­         M

                                                     ­                      S

                                                   of suffering

                                                /  T / O / R / N /
from your
l  i  p  s

like black tar on your
s   k   i   n  

camouflage
for
the



                    A              B                 Y                      S                       S

she sinks to her knees like the setting sun
all reds and golds and streaks of purple-blue
and weeps for the things and the places she has lost
just a child, steeply barefooting around gnarled upturned roots
afraid that if it rains again
she might never be able to find her way back.

in the dirt-filled pocket
of this concrete street corner
lies a little note,
written on college-ruled
lined blue and white paper
and it says
"GIVE
IT
BACK!"
and nothing else.

To the man with the sword
to the man with the plough
to the man with the wife
with whom he must row,

everyone sleeps
from the same pool of eternity
and walks closer each day
to it's shores.

From the woman with the rings
to the woman who wears rags,
from the lady who sings
and makes puppydogs wag,

everyone eats
from the same grainy earth
and toils in the soils until death
from birth.

my stomach is an empty pit
hard and well-lined with the stories
of a thousand nights of hunger games
where you play to eat and sleep
you lose and die, shuddering as your organs
fail
one by one by two by two

I'm just wishing for the turkey dinner
the crackers and cheese
the milk and water and juice
that sits untouched on grocery store shelves
too expensive for me to take
and fill my body up

I was eleven, the first time I saw you.
I thought you were sweaty, and that your hair was too long.
I had just skipped two straight months of school,
they had told you about me and I hated that.

I was twelve, the first time I met you.
I remember my classmates were uninspired
and equally uninspiring.
I wrote things for you, I wanted you to know that
I wasn't like them.
I not only thought things through, I couldn't stop.
I wrote to keep from going crazy.

You showed me your plays,
your poetry,
your short stories.
You showed me college english textbooks
full of various prose,
each one flavored slightly differently.

You showed me The Giver,
and Dead Poet's Society.
I wondered if you really fancied yourself
the captain,
leading your charges into vast fields of knowledge,
and what's more,
appreciation for the knowledge.

You were the teacher that made kids
want to teach.
You looked after me.
Made sure I was fed.
Signed me up for extra credit,
even when I said no.
You showed me what it was like
to have someone's support.
You showed me love.

When I went to high school
we stopped talking,
except for the occasional email.
But I had a boyfriend
And I smoked ***
And I didn't want
to let you down.

When I graduated, I sent you an email.
Explained everything.
I begged to see you,
to talk about all that happened.
You never replied.

You died the week before I received my diploma.
Since then,
I've been going off of soundbite bits of advice
you once gave me,
trying always to remind myself that I can do this,
because
you showed me.

hello.
you wanted answers
to your questions
they are bleeding
you dry, like so many
needling worries
do.

I'm calling you to tell you
that I don't have anything to say.
It's a lie,
but I'm too stuck to tell you
that the thought of sitting
somewhere quiet and cold
watching the stars pop out of their
black velvet bed
as the wind and the cars
whip by
to turn and look at you
your eyes reflecting red and green
bound in gold and browns
it's the only thing keeping me
going,
like a thread of ribbon,
beautiful delicate
stronger than you'd think
but lost against the
repeating fabric
of daily tedium and survival.

Much to do,
and
no way to do it.
nodding your head
you say,

I

like the way you
only sing
very
early in the morning.

you
only sing when I'm
up.

Hey!
I don’t often think about it anymore
But there was this dream I had once
Sleeping next to you some long ago
Sweaty stupid south Florida night
And the whole world was falling apart
No one knew what was going on, not even me
But none the less
We were all stood there, this whole community
And me
And asked to go into the gym
Wait in the gym
And you were there beside me as we were
Pushed into this massive empty building
With the crowd
And I remember the blue tarp on the floor
How it seemed strange
And we were in the middle
Where there would normally be a big circle
Meaning change sides
And the crowd was pressing in everywhere every inch
And the floor fell into water
And it turned out we were standing on top of a pool
A very deep and wide swimming pool
And it was storming
The power had gone out so everything was just
Darkness and touch
And I was trying to hold onto you
As I fell back and down with what seemed
Three hundred people
Babies crying
The splash and then no sound
There were too many people
Weighing on top of me I was lost
Drowned
But the dream went on
I saw you climbing out
Breathing air
Finding your parents
I saw you board a plane that was
Trying to leave through wind and rain and lightning
Because something bad was happening
End of the world
Maybe
End of mine?
Definitely...
And I never told you, but
when I woke up I felt
so glad
that you made it
that you
breathed air

even through the
rain
and
wind
and lightning.

When I can't take the silence anymore
I type my little message,
send it to your cellular device
"Goodnight, sleep well."
When I really want to say
"I love you, sweet dreams."
And a few minutes later you say,
"Oh yeah. Good dreams."
And I want to kiss you,
smile at you, eat frozen raspberry yogurt
with you,
and I can't so
I guess I'll go to sleep.

The rain fell with the night,
all groaning thunder and vociferous lavender lightning
the water staining all it touched like old black ink
streetlamps dissolving under and into darkness dripping wet
and I watched from the cold side of a second-floor bedroom window
breathing onto the panes and drawing smiley faces with my thumbs

When the rain had finally stopped,
I was still sat there,
still thinking about how wonderful it would be
if you were on the cold side of this second-floor bedroom window
with me.

there is a buzzing
     it's coming from the walls
the tiny electrical snaps and synapses
the mindhive that seethes
the radios and beeping pulses
we have reached the
singularity.