"I have a religion
I just don't ******* know"
so spoke
the blonde boy
across the aisle
in the beanie and the falcons shirt.
(he's a high school freshman
and already so
disillusioned?
would that I had been so wise!)
and that's my problem
I just don't ******* know
(no one ******* knows)
where is
your spiritual magnetic north?
where did you find your deities?
in the bracing wind
shearing slantways along your soul?
in the crackle of sparklers
arcing towards the ground from burnt fingertips?
in the murmur of dawn
crossing the horizon-threshold with trepidation?

"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)"

do you think
that when the leaves
selfimmolate
in amber and scarlet and sienna
it's their equivalent of blushing?
and when they are
coerced earthward by
the insistence of gravity
it's how they fall
in love?
if these are true
do you think
that the leaves
are as enamored with each other
as I am with you?

count to one, two, three
take a deep, deep breath
expand your chest
let it all go slowly
take another
let it out
slower.

count to five this time
slap yourself in the face
does it sting?
if not, again
do it until
you wake
up.

there’s no more counting
get up, shake off yourself
become new, leave your past
there on the floor,
and see how different it is
how unlike you it is
how little it means
as you go
forward.

take one, two, three steps
with your new legs.
feel how your new feet
bury themselves
in this new earth.
start walking a new path
and find yourself a new
destination.

come on,
it’s time to go.

you were my Doctor.
your touch my own personal TARDIS.
guiding me through new worlds
of pleasure,
introducing me to new species
of endorphins.
(I've never been
so ******* hot
in my life)
you made me feel
gorgeous.
(if only for a moment)
you made me feel
special.
(even if you've had
other companions
before)
you unwound me
lay me bare;
I was like a padlock beneath the
sonic screwdriver of your
delicate
oh so deliberate
ministrations.
(please come back)

I am not the ocean.
The ocean cannot fit in a drugstore at nine pm, blinking up at fluorescent lights
hearing giggling
being ashamed.
The ocean drowns the people inside her, if she wants to or cradles them but, I?
I am drowned. I am cradled. Held and held down by so many tides, so many hands,
ever-changing never-staying.
The ocean commits herself, she stays put, she holds open her palms and whispers
"I am not afraid to let you stay here. I am not afraid of you, exploring my depths."
I am not the ocean.