Too right-
a cup so full
cannot hold
cannot comprehend
focus or push back

a cup will spill, trembling
when held in unsteady fingers
knuckles white, nail beds stark

a soul pushed
a soul stretched

has no balance left

In time, you will walk on

my fingers will become stars
my lips, branches
my heart, brittle moss
you will go away from me gently

and grow upon this loss

Sometimes I feel like a walking calamity.

sort of unfinished-
like a painting missing just that last daub.
Like a sketch instead of a snapshot.

I'm clothes that don't totally fit.

I feel ungrateful- often.
Smarmy and altruistic.
A vain liar.

the princess ideal is not for me
nor is the martyr

but lately I feel I wear both the dress, the cross and the crown.

Invisible stigmatas staining my palms.

Bearing everyone's burdens but my own.
When did I decide that was my job?

Who chose to put me in this role?

If I am in charge of my own destiny, why did I choose such a lousy one?


in the final fight,
I won't walk to the light. I'll brandish my umbrella for the storm cloud.

I've painted on the silver lining for others. They've eaten my words.
But this is something I cannot swallow.

Oh life- you bitter pill.

Drove my sleepy heart...

Today, all I could give you was coffee

but you've already got more than that,

when you're ready to wake up.

I can make my voice strong
but the truth of that falsehood makes my throat burn
I am losing ground

slip-sliding over gravel
boots into wheels and I am back
and that control
is not over you
and it's not over me

it's just lost in space floating
between my pillows
and my quiet thoughts at night

the balm that I hope I can bring by turning off the light does
not quench

sleep does not smooth and
the jolt of decisions overly made
hashed and delayed

has my existence catching itself at the door

I don't want to be human anymore.

So Stuck.

Mire of Muck.

Inside my Blood.

On top of my Soul.

where on this bridge do
I rest?

poised over the water, rocks
reflecting their game up over
the rivulets

bubbles are cheap-
that's what she's said.

I hold your fingers between mine
carefully pinched, like a tattered butterfly wing

now the powder of my choice clings
I blow on it softly, unsure
asking it to disperse in the wind

where are your eyes?

what is this heart?


Who is my song?

feeling of wrongness
sheen of oil
power shower
can you get it for
a soul?

when it lights up, and it isn't you...
and it's not. and it won't be.

I strain through the cloudy ether-
struggling to translate those fragmented strands,
crystalize them into some sense
but the swirls, and the void-
it's impossible to detangle

I see the shining pillar through the mist
but the fog around it-
is that your doubt, or is that the ultimate truth?

why did...?

maybe it's time I stopped...
tilting at windmills.

slipping gravel grains
through my fingers
bits caught sly, in the creases
briefly.    but this
sandbox-
it's just a
garden for fools.

Who are you in the in-between?

"Love."

a title. italics space don't forget the paragraph please...

odd space new
face teeth eyes memories

and how to
reconcile?
the odd shimmer of spirits between
the used up
and the still yet
undiscovered

how do you jump
twice
without tugging the dentist's sleeve

to issue: fervent plea.

*Novocain?!

The openness of concrete space
casts a trance
Caffeine sings its drying song
A sheen smeared thinly across
already unsure synapses

Purposes lost
sit and wait for the time inside to go somewhere-
To do
Nothing

Hum of the machine
Touch of the sun
Cup
And a view, productive.

Liars,
all.

Oh
Laundry basket- mysterious as an Oracle.

the loss was a slow ache
creeping in like ice fog
after the time for mourning
should have been tolled

a gravedigger clearing dirt
grain by grain
was this heart-
stalling on the burn

proclaimed problem-free to public ears-
cleared like dust
from a smooth pane of promises
lifted like prints
from the scene of a
victimless crime

now the key loses
its lock
trapping that moment,
forever

in this web of
practicality
that we signed.

Setting down the icier path, my steps are sure.
The moon, launch-lost, hangs a tentative smile in the fading blue.
I spy the unfolding future in my compass face and deem it wise.
Thusly determined to keep my heart aimed at the sky.
You already set your course, Dark One, away from this wilderness, and into the wind.
So.
Here is where We end, and I begin.

and they did come, like rain, after a time
over the planes and rocks of her cheeks
pooling in the crevice beneath her nose
shining upon her lips in limpid drops

and in their wake

the promise of someday-sunshine on a sea of glass

There are cycles.

My pattern.
Two and fall.

and Some.
and Days.
and Now.

Here I am.

Again

missing the time in between
what was won't will be sometimes often
didn't

easy to forget the reasonable logic
behind the now seemingly nonsensical choice
that left you in the current Yearn.

the sweetsour regret, softly ignored scratches
the polish and veneer of worn out synapses
a  pleasantly blurred fastforward-lacquer

I skip the years like stones
pausing fingers on the page of a smile
turning my face away from  the cracks
stepping blithely over the day your words carried false

licking the envelope on an argument
stamped To Forget.

I choose

instead.

to love the memory of You.

Sometimes I feel it in my feet, a ripple
A puddle, then a pond
Windstorm rushing up my throat
Hurricane around my neck

Empathy Coat, wear me well

you will never
know and yet,
neither shall I,
what bruises  the wind makes
or the sorrows we
hide-

the skin shields we hold
the bone arrows we forge
for ourselves, by our kin
or the world at large.

So it is vast, and it is wide
it is small, it is fair
but I have no glass
nor other magic means
by which to
take you there.

I say goodbye to you often,
in letters and scribbled clouds, penned and hidden
under the keyboard on your desk.
tucked small and sleepy, as I pack in
your wake.

and just as frequently,
per month,
you greet with
wishful kisses, me teetering
unbalanced, off the escalator,
luggage strap, cold nose, bags dangling.

a myriad collection, sealed with "love you" texts,
taxi chits and spoon wrappers.
is this our way now?
our days, a matrimonial, cross-country conundrum.
a strung together , part time marriage,
intermittently stamped by the vested men,
marked by my travel clock,
wrapped in your worn out coat
and bolstered by the broken bed...

back to our separate hemispheres,
in such a hurry.

thread by thread it
is Cut.

scissors crafted from entwined roads
battered cities,  unknowingly sheared away by miles
promises snipped.

blunt cost computed-

Paid in full.

balancing on the tops of trees, I
see everything, still,
in clarity, in the sharpsmooth confines
of my frustratingly stoic pre-frontal cortex

I sluggishly struggle through  the snarls and tangles
of my "emotional conundrums"
to quell the misfiring synapses still bouncing wetly within.
no pressure to focus
no tactile center to make it stop
the speeding car we nearly didn't miss
the feeling of this space
gently and dangerously adrift.

the shakes of a savior
who feels like a fool.

I  really didn't want
to have to skip school.

I didn't know that
this is how you see-
how you feel
how you do
how you survive...

Unaware of the fight
waging silently in your guts
or the marks of the years
upon your wrists,
like the partial rings of a tree.

I have the ears of a listener
The rules of a King
but still, all your words often fall deaf
on my nodding head-
What kind of guide, am I then?

I give you license and praise
to mark the stone
bearing mind that I feel false,
in my own direction-
a fault of my own.

She lives in

the shaky in-between-place.
the sigil behind walls.
the cracks through which
daisies spring,
where the
cold sunlight falls.

I am the Autumn wind
blowing its way through...
Harsher than a broken
spring.
Tougher than the tightest trap.
And  even yet, Zephyr,
I still feel I've
failed
you.

I ache with Alone
we are hand in hand

empty to the bones
the lines I can't leave
on the surface of my
Maybe skin.

Sorrow is the hood
with which I cloak my ears

All I do now is
wait for the Rain.

My gratitude is a girl in
a red dress.

I keep her in the palm of my right hand.

the wind blows, hard in her hair,
whipping it,
in the many directions of good fortune

but in my left,
the compass spins
with the magnetic compassion

of a broken watch.

and I fear my luck has
fallen bread-side up.

lost in poppies
the flower of Forgetful
slumber in
feathered fields of unknowing.

wander blue
into the cloud.
embrace the
soft plumage of
reaches uncharted
between cerebellum
and heart,

for the map is torn
beyond God.

Appologies to the spider
I crushed clumsily, by tracing
what I thought were the lines
of law.

make them to break them
bridges of bone
no way to even phone it in

if you don't save
the number.

Dear The-Way-It-Is,

You are a wall of un-change
a tidal wave of useless titles
a blast of helpless brick bits
a  futile hale-storm maelstrom of styrofoam hopes

this is the forecast I cast
throwing knuckle dice.
feeling it in my knees.

no carving out of entrails.

due to my extreme kindness
to geese.

my whole body is wanting  for your
cells.
wrapped around mine like
a straightjacket of warmth

I need the fingers laced
pressure of bones on bones
not in or around
but on
senses fulfilled
smothered
in the passion of closeness

but the miles are thin yet numerous
stacked upon each other
melted graham ******* bridges
fossilized seemingly breachable
but not

shoulders itching with the distance
tendons, muscle fibers to light
floating away.


your shape. It is missed.

I swim
through the ocean
of my own consequence
one I've  forged
with my own neurons and
feeble synapses.

I traverse
this plane
existing as I do by
the seat of
my own trouser legs
frayed edges show
only in the closest
of light.

I float
Backwards in my own
consciouness, my
existance a waking
moving riddle
my own eyes,
the eggs
on the skillet of
this reality.

this constant
cosmic breakfast is
a mystery to me...

Unable to cast off the cloak of the day,
the slide of satin and pillows, no respite.
Sleep is no haven-

In the dark, they swell my heart.
In the murk, the memories of others clang about
ringing, shouting.
skull echoing to capacity.

it ebbs and flows-
the small brooks of tears
I
scoop them up in my basket
throat full of osmosis emotions
specks carried home like fleas on
a host beast

You take me there too-
flash your refusal and fear
through my sleeping mind
dream bits splayed, smeared, crossed.
richocheting through my inner ear

turned to the wall, I
send out a prayer that
I will see all of you
after the night.
whole, living, safe
with open eyes
bursting with
rage, hope and strength.

But who knows the morning?

it's already been written myriad-
the elusive verse,  
felt numerous
by others
dimensions parallel to mine

it's why we do
it isn't
it?

but what of
the depleted word bank?
slowly drained like blood so
precious with only
silver floating plasma left
ethereal, just synonyms and
consonants still clinging
to the edges of the canister


what will I say-
when nothing else remains?

sharp lines work their  way
through my veins
run the labyrinth to my heart-
a spiky, futile, mercurial art.

where I dance in spirals unknown
pondering the number of steps down from my throne
crown of thorns, I'd never wear
rather, I dare Delilah to cut my hair.

plucked at the web, spoke you your lies
Atruistic voice, the most formidable disguise
my chameleon dance done, Exit Stage Left,
Dear little Psyche, still on the run.

title goes here
fingers go here

I fixed the sharp
you forced the flat
don't forget to
tighten the strap

hammer the note
bar it with a snap

but with
all these notes
clouding the air

I
can't hear
where we're really at.

don't go to bed angry
don't go to bed scared

go to bed strong
because the world's not fair.

stepping beside myself
slipping sideways

leaving
my soul
by the fireside, to watch the
coals lose their heat

being a shadow that
only cats see

is that what it's like
to go to
Sleep?

You were home once.
I was too, for a while
looking for the light left on.

and in my heart, in the
dark
the wick sat still
waiting to be nurtured into
flame.

I bathed it in wax and protected it
from the wind.
I waded through the storm.

open the box of matches, now.
get the logs set.

I see you standing near trees,
wanting for tinder,
straining through the gloom
calling that you're out and need
the oil.

as the twigs crunch under my weight
I hold my breath and beg you to
check at your feet.
for starters are numerous.

But you bumble in the dark,
searching for my face so you can
meet my eyes.

As I find your fingers, under mine,
willing to let the bark slip through
I wonder if you'd freeze,
if I didn't help
you.

kick your legs like...
coy tilt
to your hips just...
that, yeah.
hold it-

Now...
bite the red
lip, flash
your eyes.
hair curled into
an unlikely peak...
pointed toes align.

Oh,
*****-ish Skin,
slick and soft
I wish I could
wear you more often
but like so many
in disguise
the mystique thins
if viewed repeatedly

instead I will
keep myself in
a closet of
seduction and pull
out my pinup on
a rainy day.

the glitter and stars
will keep the gloom
away.

D is for dinosaur who walks in the rain
C is for canary. she'll never be the same
E is for eskimo

F is for functional - she feels quite insane
G is for girlfriend who is never to blame
B is for backboard I should have never came

M is for meeting he couldn't postpone
L is for license, or rent to own
P is for pretty

All of your Alphabet stepped out of line
couldn't arrange them, there just wasn't time
instead they're all jumbled- but it's gonna be fine
oh oh oh

So if you're spelling with plenty of vowels
means the wind's still blowing in, something's afoul
you're late to the blackboard, best just throw in the towel


School's almost over, this isn't a start
we've all got you, this won't stop your heart
Fall back and trust me, you won't come apart.

XY and W just weren't the same
after they learned that Q had stolen her name
the rest of the letters just did not care
That's why we're ending- so I'll just stop you there.

I struggle against myself
folding and unfolding within my
skin
fighting my knuckles
kneading frantically against my
own bones.

fleeing from the reflection, inside
out.
harsh, harsher
underneath the lights,
and in my echoey head.

skin,  invisibly splitting with concern
swollen with responsibility
quivering against attack.

wet, rounded eyes-
sharp, sad, and big.
my face exploding in
the lines.
worry, hesitance, caution.

age old forehead.
teenage ankles.
baby soul.
Infant heart

I'm smiling quiet,
gazing at your face in my head
tracing the indents of your mouth,
behind the backs of my lowered lids.
in the distance we
are close,
laced in the fingers of our souls,
even when I'm empty,
you make me whole.

it only ticks sometimes,
passing the hours at its own whim.
but still it measures-day clock. life
clock.
relative minutes.
replaced from sand
for the grim grains fade translucent and slick
after
a time.
yet glass ultimately shatters,
flinging shards like dangerous paint across our mortal floor-
and inevitably-
we all cut our
feet.

blurred hands
christmas present shreds
paper snowflakes on the floor,
anticipation- snap

next slide shows...
was it a woman- my aunt?
why was she carrying fruit-
it was late in the season

I remember,
placed on
the table, linen cloth
blowing in the -click

late afternoon, blue
sky cobblestones red
balloon. carnival somewhere
I was-change

only four
and in a life
I've never yet-
lived
before.

popcorn venom-
no I
won't, you dumb
c----

watching you become
daunted by my
expectations.

truth-
can't let anyone
down if you

throw
back  the
catch
without eating
it.

under the layers
of inky, endless night -

no stars
no planets.

only bitter dust.

Oh
the things we
see when

our dreams leave
us.

Where will you
refuse
today?

will I find
it in your eyes?
pupils widened against
actual rejection,
wildly seeking some small
life control

in the clench of your hands
gripping your seat as your
sneakers kick out

or will I distill it in the
frantic voice-
I'll smash you with
my will if
my fists don't find
you first

in your body
I see you carrying all
the weapons you can't
toss.  an arsenal of hope
I wish life hadn't forged
but I'm not the one
that made it so.

So you take that feeble
power and just keep saying
No.

How are you?
[no I'm not. I'm not. Everything is falling apart] Great!

Hi!
[I need to hide. hide before my seams split open] What's new?

How was your day?
[frustrating. brick walls. ice daggers. you name it. I need a tall building] Not too bad, yours?

How are you feeling?
[shattered. please don't...I can't] Sleepy, a little.


[bursting out. spilling. tidal wave of complete wrongness. ribs rattling around uncontrollable feelings. rage. throat tight. calves twinging. head spinning] Smile!

Could you-
do you?
really desire this knowledge?

Unwanted, unwarranted, personally, so I won't regift.
I'm not sure your ears  really want the weight of
it, anyway.