It's sweat season.
The thick-air season,
the "I can't breathe" one.

The uncut clovers,
can you bring yourself to mow them over?
Can you watch Virginia Creepers creep
and hold your mother while she weeps
and save that mouse while your cat sleeps
in the sun so deep
into the air,
it feels as if
it's almost there
to touch,
to burn your small hand on?

Bacon grease and black cement
burn your bare feet,
the gravel digs into your knees
and Finally, some summer breeze.
Finally, thick-air relief.

one moment of silence,
and it was too loud,
and i still could not say no.

and then the light broke over the trees,
and my faith was restored,
and my faith was stronger than ever before.

stronger even than it was
years away
countries away
in that cathedral which saved her life for just one moment

and i thanked God for the sunrise
and i moved my body around,
twisted it up into the air
and i asked him if he wanted anything for breakfast.
and we moved on,
and that was that.

Please.
Give all your pain to me.
Please.
Give all your pain to me.
You got two left just
flush 'em down
or give 'em both to me, just
tell me that this loss I feel
I'm not feelin' for free, and
please.
Give all your pain to me.

O God,
help me to stop
borrowin' your time,
'cause where we're from
there's not much left
unless
you make it out alive,
but I see
it ain't that easy when you
visit home and find that
Please.
Give all your pain to me.

You ran up to the mountain top but
pain don't give up chase or stop
just 'cause you think you're free,
you **** it in the way
your mama taught you on her knee.
Please.
Give all your pain to me.

I know two folks
who died
the year you
cracked my wrist with
sudden strength, hot fear, you
seized up on my floor
my GOD I cried
so hard
when I found out
what the pills were for.
I made a call for you
and still today
you called to say the
same old ****.
Give all your pain to me.

No I ain't mad, how could I be?
I wish I hadn't done it too and
made it out all safe and ****,
and what makes me so different?

I sit up high in Boston,
far from home, so far removed
I didn't even know (her name here)
died real quick then
got up slow, I had to hear it
in a booth with you and
now I'm thinkin'
'bout the odds that you die too,

so young like (his name),
still a teen, still
runnin' on the football team
'til everyone in school just
cried 'cause
he weren't comin' back.

And (her name here) with
flowing hair,
she couldn't breathe.
She used to sit right
in the chair
I sat by in our class.

It doesn't matter
'cause you cleaned yourself.
But now we're here.

You promised me and
I believed
that I would never
have to see you
scream like that again, but
please.
Give all your pain to me.

i've got to get out of this room.
i've got to get out of this skin,
and into another.

who will i be?
i could be anyone. who is it tonight?
who am i tonight?
and will i have the same skin
in the morning light?

what does it feel like to be me,
and who can i ask
to get an honest answer?
you suggest the mirror,
but do you understand the weight
that comes with that question?
do you understand the chains
that come with my obsession?

if i cough up blood, is it the blood of another?
if my mouth bleeds red, is red really my color?

don't lay down the truth
if the truth isn't ready to sleep,
and don't lay down your life
if you have no life to keep.

do i have a light to keep?
and have my teeth sunk in so deep?

i can't reap what i sow
if my arms are full with the burdens of others.
i can't enjoy my pleasures.
i'd like to know what tethers me down.
can i not just float away?

can my sweat be blood condensed
and drip into glasses dispensed
to my dearest friends?

if they drink it,
when they taste me,
will they understand?

goodnight.

For Katherine:

    I act on impulse,
(and you forgive me.)
    Or on fear,
(my dread outlives me)
    But that's not
what brought
    me here.

    Some simple words
and simple flowers
    for a girl
who steals my hours
    when she doesn't even know it,

    so here's
  some love
to show it.

write about the deep planes
of the woods on your back.

how peaceful the morning is,
the dawn begins to crack.

smooth chill ****** on my skin
to remind that i'm alive.

i wonder if the trees can feel it too;
that i'm alive.

are they crickets?
perhaps frogs?
calling me
between
the wet whisps of the wind
and morning fog?

collect my fears and my wounds and
my hearts and my tombs, all the
dead that i've buried
and the living things too.

wish it weren't over.

take a look through
the steeples and pews.

underbrush fire, pious desire,
pale-soft leaves that cut you
like briars.

Carbon Monoxide is seeping,
it's seeping,
I don't seep, I sink.

I sing,
like the breeze.

I sleep like the sun
in the months
of perpetual rain. I slink
and I hide
from the fire and sage.

And nothing
could stop me
from feeling this way.

How simple it feels
to let go of the strings
and fall upwards
into
the stars and such things.

How hard it must be
to love with your heart
but fear that your head
will tear it apart.

What name should I call
when I’m all alone?
Whose hands can stretch out
with one pool of hope?

Whose hands can stay clasped
but gentle- devout-
to keep that wet hope
from drip-dripping out?

From running to drought?