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 want to
draw but
my hands don't
have those
dynamics I
want to sing
for you but
the words
and the melody
got caught in
an alleyway, had
a fight and
now they're
just not talking
so until
they do let's
just sit
wait this out
sip our water
and pray.

My fear is a pool
Ripples washing ; the wind is deepening.
This ebbs with the moon if I can freeze my reality
But
Radio is the enemy
TV is a liar
I wake up every minute wishing I were dreaming.
1984- 2017
a new world awakening and inside
I am
Screaming.

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?

I scramble to tally all
the things about this that are wrong
Clinging to
And clawing at
Careful pieces of
Someone else's song

Ringing harsh around me are these lyrics in my ears
Clashing, ripping, tossing feelings out of my eyes with
Traitorous ******* tears.

Somewhere there is laughter
Somewhere there is death
Somewhere someone is fighting
For their last and desperate breath

And here in our bubbles it's hard to see the trees
But the wind it still whispers
Catching me 'round the knees

You are mortal
You will be mortal
Your life is in a shell
Be grateful for what hits you
And what isn't- so
Guard this well.

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.

I want to
delete all the mistakes
in my life like
a typewriter
shove in a cartridge
ring of the bell
erased.
wouldn't that
be
so
lovely.

there's a
storm out
there inside
here too.
but mine
doesn't melt
on my cheeks
when they are
warm.
it crystalizes
in my chest cavity
poking up
painfully when
I'm scared and
trying to breathe in.
and when I turn
out the lights
and try and pull
my security around
my body
the wind howls
reminding me
that even if I
shut the windows
I can still feel
the burn
of air coming in
on the tiny rips
in the sides
of my shield.

and it was you
and it was me then,
stuck together it was us.  
in a vessel.  
full of stars.

Blue eyes, but only for me-
Standing fast, holding their ground.

Fluent in every single one of my
languages,
Except
French...

**** you, Magician.

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.

'be safe'
is a talisman we
carry with us when
we lack control

we 'touch wood' to
prevent the fall
of our skies.

look down, lest we
break our mother's backs

and pray
"Please God, don't let us
trip into
the
cracks"

we "don't worry" as
if it does

halt the thoughts

just like swearing on
the cross

You love her
in her many
copies.
blue, beige
destroyer, creator.

You hate her
during some
hours away
from sun.
procrastinator
fighter, complainer.

You fear her
the control
you can assert
but can't reign
in. Boycotter
scaredy cat.

You're in her
swimming but drowning.

Your psyche should
not be a
tiger trap.

There should be leaves
and soft earth
not sticks.

As your fears sharpen
them, the pit
will become deeper.

So learn to watch
where you walk
in your veins.
Control your thoughts
your habits
your acts.

Or perish in
your own sea
of troubles
Hamlet's slings,
and arrows will be yours
And let's face it.

You just don't have
that kind of
thick skin.

found my heart in
your hands.

didn't even know
it was missing.

but I guess now
I
do.

Once I held all
the balloon strings
of a few colours,
some shifted, popped
with the wind.
others burst with a shower
of gold
others swirled with translucent
smoke.
but a monstrous gale came,
snagging its claws into my palm
cutting my knuckles with hail
painting my cuticles with frost
and I cried out, bleeding in
the cold and crying,
stepped out of the ring
let loose all the tails
and  so ended
that particular
song.

I need a place
an attic in my head
to go there
sit in the rose
coloured light
the golden hour of
my mind and watch the
willow tree
growing quietly next to
the brick
in the place
I am who I always was a
growing chrysalis
a changeling constant stasis bug
movement beneath crystal
flickers underneath the
ice
but it will be quiet still
and the door will be locked
and I will stay there not
to hide from
myself
but to flee the potential
for crisis
if I don't cross swords with
the inner speed demon
find my zen
and go to the
supermarket.

Reshape the void-
add a backbone
form my lips
mould my sentences
build my breath.

make me human again

once again I hold
my cup and
again it's brimming

tears are locked down
no need for a wet shirt

in my infinite loop now
but I wear my smile

this is the mask- your
warrior face for
survival

keep your place
tap out the time
metronome ready.

measure it out,
or drown.

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

you paint it
golden, you know...
Sun, good job
on that whole
deal. You turned this
ugly strip into
something more than
a mother could love.
and as it goes down,
taking those ugly
dishwater fluffs that
I am ashamed
to each call
Cloud, and setting them back
on the horizon with
sparkling amethyst slabs
decorating each city
window
I decide, Hey,
when you do your
job so,
beautifully the
day
is not wasted
And as long as
you keep bringing me
nights full
of stars
and a living earth
in the morning
Everything will
be just
fine.

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.

waking up
without
and there's no
warm barrier for
the wind.
the shell
of duvet, pillow
and sheet is
scentless,
soulless
and no
longer a haven
for my hours
without
you to
guard
me while
I rest.

I see your wings.

even if You
Can't.

A harsh wind is blowing
Whistling and shrieking down
The peeks and ridges of our collective anxiety
Only live, only hope
I look at you often
Stare into the corners of your eyes and I catch
The tears that shine there
I examine your fingers wrapped
Over and around mine
The thumb that I labeled perfect
My own little spiders tucked under
The warm shelter of your solid bones.
We are two, you and I, but really we are one.
Farther than the sun
Way past the reaches of stars.
Deeper than the ocean.
You sink into my heart and I try to commit your face to a memory that can only exist while there is a vessel.
But no matter the Galaxy Path I am destined to take
The string remains.
This love Is Unmovable.

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.

hard and
soft the curves
of all of
you in
my memory
the different
lips I've
kissed, the
taste of spring
water.
pushed up
in the stalls
after school.
crammed,  
dark,  in
the car before
it turns
to morning
and the
memory of
irresistible fire
shooting  through
my legs,
is thin
and hollow
now that
the years
have covered
up the
feeling part
of my every-
-day- nerves
with an
awful gloss.

I was Loathe
to use a cliche
like 'dying
inside'

until I saw
the Ashes on the
snow

Alas-

this time, the genesis of
my own words
is  just not great enough...

having to reach out to the rhetorical masses might not have been the protective net I wanted-

but it's here to catch me,

unlike You.

Russian stacking dolls.

I layer like a jawbreaker
Folding one face
over the other.
My hello, smile, freeze frame.
Molten sugar shaped into points and curves
for eyelashes and lips.

In the days, flourescent and white
I lead, I direct, I juggle

Night spent, curled in the orange glow
bracing against the pain of
distance, wiping childhood away,
being the proverbial 'strong'
picturing your eyes
and mouth, both of us
mimes and mirrors for the other.

Conflict- do I open a portal
to the distance,
and
nod to our promise and hug you
with my heart

or fixate it on it, decline
and hold the refusal
in my mind, whispering into the pillow
consoling the dodge of not
trying to lie about salty cheeks.

'balance on the wet stones,
continue your creation.
You made this construct,
and you know the way through.'
-this is my feverish mantra.

But...
In this dimension I fracture my soul
to live forever, only to get through today,
this year
this week...
while we are on opposite ends of this
fearsome Bridge.

And when the lace comes, the celebration
the toast,  I ready myself to take our bright flare
the kiss, and our promise, back with me to my painful, green cave.

and hold it in the dark, cover it, too
in salt.

and pray with every bone and fiber for
the place where our timeline can
converge.

When did I start
writing 'Woman?'

Always a ******* the
Inside.

Took two
glasses-

To See.

You said I
shouldn't
eat it before
dinner.
But I
did
anyway.
Sorry, Mom.

don't know
how to feel when
I see your face.

hastily shove on
this mask  and
become
prepared and
blank powerful
and cold.

angry to be
full of so much
sadness, blocked
beyond pain.

and  then I morph.

into some sort
of businesslike
zombie who
packs up this part
of her life.

cobbles together
her dignity.

andgetsthehelloutbeforesheremembershowtocry
again.

I don't know you
I didn't know you
but you make him hurt
on a memory
from a picture I
only saw once
there were trees
tiny smiling eyes
and you were a
name that used
to make him happy
or so I was told.
I am sorry
that you are gone
now, and
I can hear his
I heard his tears
on the phone
bringing mine up
for a stranger
who is part of
my father.
please let him
dig away your
image. and bury
the spaces you put
between all of
the people you were
supposed to love.
let him not be
weighed upon
by ties you broke
without even
building them.
I hope you rest
in peace without
pain. and I
hope you make
me stop crying
for the little
brother you
stopped remembering
when you
forgot the importance
of
yourself.

like ******* crumbs you're
still on my tongue the
stomach ache I can't
escape

the old haunt I missed
before ever stepping through the
door

the scrape on my knee ghost
of which still stings

and for a while still,

I  may cry at normal
things.

Try.

It's a small word
divided into three
it becomes mightier.

the power of shapes
against the sword of a pen
for it, the shield of
defeat

the two letter 'no'
you would think three would
beat two

you would be wrong

'yes' also invokes
yet at it's strongest,

really means 'no' too.

it is time, dear one.

to move ( no longer dally here.)
and stretch your legs into the unknown-
dangle your toes into chaos and
tickle the chin of change.

inch onto the branch of
choices and follies and casually
inform fate that she's got a nice ****

So spill your daring chant
roaring the words of a cowardly
lion as
you sally down this saffron road

no scarecrow here, just the winds of tomorrow

to tell us where
to go.

it's too much.
these beds I made.
my skin is so heavy.
I am under this
parachute of
coyness, but now
it's falling down
around me and I flail
in the waves, choke,
cough and toss.
remember how they said
don't wish for a thousand
coins because they'll all land
and crush your body?
I think, it's probably
best to be careful
for what you
ask  for, whether
it's forward
or backwards in
time. because once your
grass is green,
you have to roll
in it.
whether it tickles
your collar
or not.

We see life in the subways.
On the playground.
In the garden.
Even in space, on planets covered in hostile frozen water.
But all of it is wrapped in parcels.
Nobody knows what a microrganism is thinking.
Me, I like to imagine what
they'd say.
Stories about the bag lady,
wearing a quilted poncho, once a blanket,
clutching a bag with a drawing of a lion peeking out of the top.
How did she land?
I stare into strangers eyes,
imagining how they'd feel next to me in bed.
If their hair would be soft if it accidentally brushed my arm.
Does the lost looking girl balance her checkbook in her head,
or did her boyfriend leave her last night? Did she remember to pay rent?
Did the bus driver eat breakfast this morning.
If only I could ask.
What prevents us from pricking the thin casings of our fleshy balloons.
We walk around in bubbles, draw lines around us.
Somehow everyone got the memo not to toe those.
Even the three year old, flicking his eyes up fearfully to you,
then his mother, when she pulls him too fast in the market
and his hand bumps your market basket.
In-scripted on our genes, and
woven into our jeans.
Nature briefs nurture.
They have lunch together, just before babies are born.
Then the stork kisses them on their tiny little foreheads.
They scream because that's just
too young to have to absorb all those rules.

Stone waits
in the Rain

it will move

just
give it
Time

smash with your fists
bash the drum
slash the strings

hit harder
sing louder

turn it right up
but for the love of
god don't stop

I don't want to-

accidentally hear
my heart.

You were always afraid
your heart filled with pause
and your eyes touched by ghosts.
But,
your back stayed
soft
strong.
muzzle filled with wisdom
ears full of silk.

the dance I do with
myself
somehow, deliberately stomping on
my own feet.

stopping just before the gap oh-
I mind it
don't mind if I
do pass right THROUGH it.

shoot the foot? I have holes
to the stars.

I could hang hooks on the wounds I've
pierced in my nervous little soul.

Confident bark, blink and nod.

"Padlocked and sealed," I'll say.

But through my teeth, raw, I know I'm just treading mud
and banking on the Gods.

my fingers are bruised
left, inside contours, running along the point .

a dull smear of pain

accidental smudges
of my fragility are  just
there-
lightly traced
against my joints

outside injury
where did you come from?

either way,

now you match
the

ache inside.

We are comprised of such precious fragments.

Pieces of ourselves that we forget to
Remember and remember to
Forget.

crawling out
sideways

I read the newspaper on
your lap predicting
calamity

smell the coffee on your
breath keeping you
afloat

looking through your
eyes the lens blue not
rosy

holding my own eight ball foggy

I can't tell Your future.

but I see Ours.

and it is
Gold.

we can't see eye-to-eye
[literally]...
you mirror my smile.
whether it's because
it's like my own
or because we're
peas, I might not know
because
you're a book I
still can't read.

I want to
remember who I
was How
I was with you
with them
who I am
with me
Alone
all of you
and walking
on the sidewalk
at night
But I can't
seem to trace
in the blurs
the faces of
my many personalities
I can't
seem to connect the
dots, to find
the numbers that match
up to draw me
a full giraffe
with warm squishy
insides.
All I do
when I crack
myself open
is see a chocolate
cavern, filled with
not Easter eggs
or green fake
lawn but
empty
empty
air.

When you think about
All the sheep you wasted
counting on your pillow
Remember, you'll find them
later, lining your slippers.
And keeping them warm.
For the cold, Outside.

And if the stars still
fall away from your
grasp, step out into
the night, and touch
your face to the moon.
maybe then the universe
will take pity,
and grant you rest.

If still no,
lay awake, my love
find my forehead,
listen to the
waves in my
heart and I will
take the hours for
you.

Tail like a river
heart like a soldier
eyes like wet stone.

Sleep now, Easy.
with the scent of honey
And guard the threshold
of the world beyond.

Bad news here-
and I have to let it settle and
diffuse
sprinkle it over the surface of my shield
like salt.
lest the slickness not melt
on the bumpy road to their
Path and force a crash.

What I hear...
I can feel it-
want to let sink into my heart- but
To be their defender... must hide my eyes,
avoid their wounds.
Lest I faint, fall, falter.

So instead I send it
to heaven
Courage, Strength, Hope

Hope someone up there can...

is listening...

I am a full cup
balancing on the shelf
constantly testing my surface tension

just waiting for a little jiggle
to break the slack.

and When It Happens
this camel is gonna start running.
and she ain't never looking back.