I went to bed with a Ghost tonight,
he slid in by my side--
all gentle-like,
all lovely hands,
that held me, long and tight.

I went to sleep with a Ghost tonight,
I lay here in his arms--
a wisp of a kiss,
a loving caress--
his touch so warm and right.

I fell in love with a Ghost tonight-
he says nothing at all-
just holds me close,
my lovely Ghost,
and wards away the sky.

I left my Ghost alone tonight,
away from his touch.
He leaves me, too-
at dawn, too soon.
Alone, I face this petty light.

a hug from you
is just text on screen.
an online "thing"
how many do you
give?

it is devastating
I should know this by now
depressing, even, to speak
to a man.

because he flatters you
and makes your heart beat--
thmpthump, thmpthump
--until it beats for only him.

but sometimes, I think,
he only likes me when he is drunk,
or perhaps he is just very shy sober,
but he is still amazing.

even so, I am left alone at the
post office, with letters
that are filled with hearts
that all returned
unopened.

It is not
fear
that grips me
when we are so high in the sky,

above the clouds,

yet beneath the sun,
where people are molecules,
and buildings are
ants.

There are countless words I can use,
        my darling,
        an infinite number,
to describe my adoration for you,
        but none are adequate.

I would build up a mountain for you,
        my darling,
        using only dirt and a spoon,
and I would tear it down again,
        if only you asked.

I would fight for your freedom to choose,
        my darling,
        if you so desired,
and I would create countries in your name,
        just say it is so.

I would create new words for you,
        my darling,
        for none truly can describe my love,
and you are so worthy of new and beautiful things,
        only wish it so.

I would write encyclopaedias for you,
        my darling,
        containing pages of my admiration,
and my devotion toward you, to tell the world,
        simply order me.

I would create an altar at which to worship you,
        my darling,
        made of gold and ivory and dazzling gems,
you are worth all expenses, worth all my faith,
        just deem it be.

You do not even realize it,
        my darling,
        but you are so perfect,
so utterly gorgeous in action, so kind and gracious,
        but so small
                in confidence.

If only, my darling,
        if only you could love yourself
the way that I do, so utterly and completely;
        just say the words, my darling,
                and I will follow you.

I let my dog out back and watch him
because it’s cold out and I’m
not wearing a shirt
my arms are crossed and I watch
as he disappears in the inky blackness
and I turn to the sky


Mintaka Alnilam Alnitak
eyes drawn to Sirius
and back
to Betelgeuse and Bellatrix
Rigel Saiph
The Pleiades, and
I like to pretend I can find
Procyon


My ******* and my hands press closer
to the glass, and it is freezing
yet my eyes are locked on the left of
Orion,
at a star I don’t know
nearly blinding with its luminosity
a planet, but one I do not know
and it thrills me


This is how planets are discovered
I think
anomalies in the sky that
make man wonder
it is bright and beautiful and my face is
against the window
my breath fogs the glass
yet still I see the nameless Star—
and I open the door, to bring myself
closer, to war the cold
in hopes that being near will
fill me with knowledge and that
elusory star will tell me its name


And my dog, invisible in the night,
jumps back from the door and looks
reproachfully at me
and I stare at that gorgeous sky
and my naked skin is already shivering
and my arms cross against my chest
as I turn and go back
inside,
staring at the Pleiades and Orion,
and that white-hot star
once more.

They are a personal awakening
    like an old song from a time
  more intimate and meant to be--

Such devastating commitment,
    all embraces and soft sighs
  and half promises of forever;

A touch of breath, a gentle caress
    with nothing but a halo of content
  revealing both nothing and love--

Their affair leaves nothing to wonder
    no petty doubts, nor fear, nor lies,
  only a promise of always;

Some complete and happy union,
    leaving no worry of their loyalty,
  simple a dazzling eternal infinity;

There she remains, a bride of could-be
     across a chasm of my own device,
   a gentle beckon from her heart
to mine.

As I immerse myself in a field of gray
    not picturesque, not meant to stay,

I smell the coffee in your hands,
    begging me back to majestic lands;

I fall into your embrace when beckoned,
    only to drown in whiskey second.

I opened the door
And walked into your world
The door swayed (like trees in the wind)
And you turned
And walked out the door
That I opened (when I walked into your world)

A few years later (I re-opened that door)
I walked out of your world
And the door shut with a slam
I remember it swaying (like trees in the wind)
And you walked right through me (with my heart in your hands)
And walked into the door again (and locked it behind you)
And wouldn't allow me in (into your world again).

This room smells of cigarettes and ******* (“My daily cologne,”)
Before it was bought, this place was a home—
But now it’s just storage—
A place to get horizontal.

You don’t have a religion (“This isn’t adultery,”)
You proudly show your body
You’re not afraid of sin
You’re not afraid of this intense heat (“I’ll let you **** me thin.”).

I can reach you at *69
Being away makes everything hard.
It’s a 1-800 number—
Payable by cash or card.

Even when we were teens (“When you were sixteen,”)
You could always pleasure me (“And I was fourteen,”).
Even though I’m married (“It was the best time for me.”),
You’re the one I need.

You’re the angel in these bed sheets (“The devil with my chains.”),
The local roaming God—
We down whole bottles of sweet Champagne (“You didn’t even have this at your wedding,”)
And stand up on the balcony (“Having *** in the rain.”).

Sweat glints on your body in this smoke-filled light
And shimmers on your neck.
(“My eyes are open so I can remember,”) My eyes are closed so I can
Forget, forget, forget.

You won’t change yourself (“Come away with me,”),
And I know that you won’t cry (“I can make you happy,”),
But even though my eyes are closed (“The tract marks will disappear-”),
I like to pretend you try (“We can live forever if we make it past thirty.”).

This room smells of alcohol and ******* (“The scent my wife just knows.”),
Know that I remember and love you (“I don’t want a wife, I want”),
But you’re not just mine to have (“you to be with me.”),
Just try to save some time for me.

This romance of ours is deep (“We’re not going to make it.”),
Even if it’s two hundred and hour—
You were always worth the money
Saying the one is me (“Even if we try,”).

We’re going to die here together,
Just you and I (“The tracts are way too deep.”),
We’ll be in each other’s arms
In life we couldn’t do that (“But in death we’ll **** well try”).

It was as if the earth could breathe
But it couldn’t, I remembered, even after the
Sky yawned wide and ate us both.
        (of course, we weren’t the only ones,
        but you’ll suffer for poetry?)
You held my hand tight because you
were afraid
        (maybe it was I who held you?)
But we had nothing to fear
So says you, but we never did
get anything right.
        (not intentionally, anyways)
“Forever isn’t black,” you suppose, “there’s land still”
I nod and agree but do not speak
You open up and can’t but say “It’s as if the earth can
breathe”

Her eyes look greenest when they are
    looking down from above me
in a sultry, cow-girl style;
Yet her mind seems weakest
  during the night-time.

Her hair is longest when
   it is twined between my fingers,
her body against mine;
And her hands seems gentlest
  when they are tap-tap-tapping against
the window--
  waiting for the car that will never come.

Her body is the most graceful when
dancing
softly, as if afraid to be caught;
   all contour lines in a dress of cotton;
and her heart is most fragile
    while held in my hands
       my fingers, a loosely fitted cage.

It feels good to be noticed
like a hand gently held in your own--
forever in balance with the hand on
your heart;
Squeezing tightly when you're average.

I do not believe in love,
    Nor in starry messengers;
and I do not believe I will ever
    be in love,
because love is for the old.

And truly, I admit, I am
      old.

Old fashioned, world weary--
The young want the moon, and the stars,
   And for love to be writ in the sky--

And though I know I am
  deserving of love,
I know I am too ****** to
    love
     the way
      the young do.

Inhale, exhale
A quick intake and shuddering sigh
The last thing he wants to do is this thing here and now.

It's pointless he says sourly
He has potential but he hides it behind the ****** job he got
As a freshman in high school.

It's a horrible habit he'll never kick.
Potential-hiding that is.
He's not legal, but I buy him the alcohol he wants anyway.

Because I went to grad school, and still I see myself
Wishing I was this loser dropout
Still splurging paycheques on condoms and red solo cups.