I've got these ink stained hands

untouchable, unwashable

even by the sands of time

ink stained by my words

Words I say, Words I write, Words I hold

words written on the page

concealed within my heart

The words I still hold

ink rubbed off from my

hands,my heart, my soul



Seen by many, Understood by none

fallen on the deaf , the blind, the dumb

fallen on the ground, slipping through the streets

in between the cracks

left to walk back and forth

left inside its crying cradle

Yearning to be with more



    Words that I hold

no matter how heavy ,

no matter how long

I'm Atlas,holding on as long

as I can-

Until I let go-

and I watch them spill out from my hands

to those loose leaf pages

margins too small

filled with words with the beating sweat of my palms

Sweat smeared pages so sweet

It's a living, breathing, part of me

So Spoiled

Sitting there so comfortably

disreagrading the silly lines that try to keep them neat



No more lines left on the leaf

no more words spilling out from me

left in this body

Sealed and Shut



I can't do it

I give up



-CQR

Panic
my chest beats
staccato on a snare drum
Fingers twitch
pen skitters
letters, syllables, lost
Run!
run far away and
leave this place-
there’s nothing left
of your humanity.
The gods embrace my tremors
and their love
enflames destruction.
Inferno consecrating,
consume the ash
a phoenix
(my soul sings)

Wasted days
accumulate

An increment
to useless years.

Gasping inward, I awaken
To overwhelming thoughts of you.
Within my dreams, had I mistaken
This ethereal kiss for true?

"It simply cannot be!" I exclaim,
Upon this revelation.
For I find my racing heart aflame,
By in-the-flesh creation.

But were it fire that tugged my mind,
or something more concrete?
Indeed, your eyes the gods designed,
To make a loveless man's heart beat.

And though, from the sight of your gaze, a man may walk away,
From the thought of those green-brown eyes, they may never stray.

Tell me who can
Catch a toucan?
Lou can.

Just how few can
Ride the toucan?
Two can.

What kind of goo can
Stick you to the toucan?
Glue can.

Who can write some
More about the toucan?
You can!

I thought you were my friend - yeah!
I thought you were my friend - yeah!

But now you're not my friend - yeah!
But now you're not my friend - yeah!

I thought you had my back - yeah!
I thought you had my back - yeah!

But you stabbed me there instead - yeah!
But you stabbed me there instead - yeah!

Ohhh, ohh, you're not my friend!
Ohhh, ohh, you're not my friend!

Sitting in labyrinths of cobblestone intestines
I’m learning to eat the entrails of sacrifice
only domestic, never hunted.
pick up spoon. put down
put down. put-down.
pick up. um . spoon.
um… putdown.
there are motions for eating and I do them.

soothsayer, look down
pay attention to positions, shapes
knife. butter. um…
bread. no. breadth.
better. no. butter-better.  focus.
knife. better. bread.
knife, knife of haruspex. knife breadth.
okay… deep breath.

I have divided the livers
and the watchers of victims.
I have written on
the anomalies in my bronze living,
what I should look for,
what they should allow for.
my protruding viscera,
my ancient autopsy of starving.

Starving made me easier to tie.
easier to lift. made me feel
gutted out like finished
ice-cream containers
but, starving made me
full of household gods.
made me divine. made sheeps fly.
made days disappear and made cold cold cold seem like
simmering. made staying out of sight a piece of cake.
cake. starving made me rich when I found little
boys betting quarters for eating bowels of
goats. made me small enough to fit through
playground gates so I could swing
swing in earthquakes, and portents.

now, I listen to Memor, a man
who knows nothing of starving
talk about how starving I am.
tomorrow I have to advise
tomorrow I have to weigh
tomorrow I have to swallow
tomorrow I have to
tomorrow I have
tomorrow I am half

and starving made me whole.