Humanity i love you
because you would rather black the boots of
success than enquire whose soul dangles from his
watch-chain which would be embarrassing for both

parties and because you
unflinchingly applaud all
songs containing the words country home and
mother when sung at the old howard

Humanity i love you because
when you’re hard up you pawn your
intelligence to buy a drink and when
you’re flush pride keeps

you from the pawn shop and
because you are continually committing
nuisances but more
especially in your own house

Humanity i love you because you
are perpetually putting the secret of
life in your pants and forgetting
it’s there and sitting down

on it
and because you are
forever making poems in the lap
of death Humanity

i hate you

i will wade out
                        till my thighs are steeped in burning flowers
I will take the sun in my mouth
and leap into the ripe air
                                       Alive
                                                 with closed eyes
to dash against darkness
                                       in the sleeping curves of my body
Shall enter fingers of smooth mastery
with chasteness of sea-girls
                                            Will i complete the mystery
                                            of my flesh
I will rise
               After a thousand years
lipping
flowers
             And set my teeth in the silver of the moon

The readers of the Boston Evening Transcript
Sway in the wind like a field of ripe corn.

When evening quickens faintly in the street,
Wakening the appetites of life in some
And to others bringing the Boston Evening Transcript,
I mount the steps and ring the bell, turning
Wearily, as one would turn to nod good-bye to Rochefoucauld,
If the street were time and he at the end of the street,
And I say, ‘Cousin Harriet, here is the Boston Evening Transcript.’

i could go to the courtyard, if i wanted to.
i won't, but i'll pretend to, so i get the heady rush of possibility.
but i never told you why i love the smell of rain and you never told me why you love like rain
i guess we're even,
i guess we can't rely on karma to get by.
i think you should know that i love you, or used to love you, or will love you
i think you should know about the incisions. three over your heart and around it
and, and darling, is it too late to tell you about the fireplace? i hope not.
it's ashy and unused. we make a fine pair
you can be the puppeteer, if you want
i your perfect marionette (pale and pretty,
pearls at my throat)
your mind is racing. do you remember the cave, princess?
sorry, i know, you hate it when i call you that.
do you remember the blood on my hands? do you remember tipping my chin up, drinking it in
first the blood and then me
it was fast, but i understand. self control is a luxury
we can't all afford to be precise.
but, sweetheart, you misfired, didn't you? or didn't fire at all, meant to fire but forgot.
you don't like hospitals. you don't like orders and you don't like order
i know this. we both do.
(i know why you sit the way you do, back ramrod straight.
you're afraid of falling.)
you're afraid of your reflection
you ask me to paint you and when i'm finished
you bite your lip. "you look like your
father," i lie through my teeth
you couldn't be more different. i love this about you.
you listen to the same three albums on repeat
when i get tired of hearing them i ask you, measured
to please turn the volume down.
you turn it up,
smiling like you know a secret that i don't.
i stop asking you for things. it's okay,
this is normal.
you stopped answering me a long time ago, anyway.
when i turn to look at you, your fair hands are stained red. i do not breathe.
we stay like this, quiet and unsure
you filling the silence for me.
if you do love me, it's not in the way that everyone talks about
it's a hurricane love. this is not like breathing
it's like drowning
but you taught me to swim twelve years ago in a kiddie pool in the backyard
and i know i will never leave you. my strings are clutched too tight in your fists.
i move around but not beyond you. this is how it has always been.
when you kiss me, i taste metal on your tongue.
my mouth comes away red and i do not care
loving you is a blood sport anyway.
i will fold into you, become a bullet,
cry myself hoarse.
this is the only way i can be close to you.
i could go into the courtyard, if i wanted to, but you're there
and i don't want you to know about me.

The well lit room
glows warm,
the fan, cool against my shoulder.
i've talked to you,
coffee infused lips
creamy crisp
milky flavors dance
to the fizz of my brain.
The ice, all shrunk,
slips down my tongue

with a yawn,

a warm glow
in my arms.

I'm up to my elbows
In Summer sun,
I've hit my funny bone;
The gangs have hit the pavement,
No one mentions home.

The towels are stretched
On sand dunes,
Water falls free and clear,
There's no time for dwelling
On one's sun-kissed despair.

There's amusement parks
And animal farms,
Camps and hiking trails;
Boats slice turquoise water,
I've daughters tugging tails.

And there,
Beneath the snuggled moon
Couples spoon,
Leaving room
For air.

We end our daily frolics
With our evening walks;
I'll find time
To lift my elbows
After equinox.

Don't give me that
Smack me with a brick
before you flash that
Colgate smile
Take your eager flight
to your far off place
and leave me to
my sugar coated
shards of glass.

                             {Flight Departing At: 9:30AM}

Remember when we would sing
to the radio
                        and laugh because
                                                                ­                     we didn't
know
                                             the lyrics?

                 {baggage}    
                                               or the time
{security}
              {Take off shoes. Remove Belt}
                you cried   
                                                              ­                   in  my bed?

                          {How many bags are you checking in today?}

we both got so
sunburned   once
you had the imprint of your
                                                            ­                           tank-top
on your back and
I thought my
                                         nose
would fall off

                                              {Flight Itinerary}  
{Drivers License}
                   we rushed through
sushi
and I accidentally ate
                                                      too much wasabi
                                                          ­                          {Is anyone sitting there?}
                                            awkwardly held on to each other
on top of that concrete sculpture of a
                                                                ­              cat
or was it a
                               pig?
                   {Airplane Mode}
            ran to the          
   beach and climbed that         really uncomfortable rock?
                      {sleep}          
     I was so
                                                                ­                                      content
next to

                                         you
                                      {Silence}

            ­                   {Fasten seat belts}

{Baggage claim}
                                        there was a time when we made each other                             
       happy.

                              
you had to                                                           move.
All the way to                                        good Ol' North Carolina.

It was a
                             chance                        we took.

What we had was only               temporary

                                A               looming                     date.

At some point
@ some                         airport           in               San Francisco
you would leave                                                            ­        


                                                      ­               me


at 9:30AM.



{gone with the clouds}

Modern and Contemporary Poetry
takes up most of the passenger seat.
Pages' edges ruffled like the balled-up polo I'm wearing. Tommy Hilfiger'd
be rolling in his millions. Twenty minutes till work's screen door crashes on the frame twice before settling. Three salad plates, a skillet, and two jars of unsweetened tea condensate
on the metal counter. They soak dinner bills and paper towel coasters.
The front door vacuum seals behind sandal families reeking of Chlorine
and hairspray. Beachy look. Three more families crowd in behind them, taking turns sifting through the hostess desk peppermints for discarded toothpicks. Reservations for 7:00 come in at 6:50 and demand a table. They're  just like the mints packed tightly
in the lobby, but there are a few patient ones at the bottom.  They're the ones that inspire stanzas in **Modern and Contemporary Poetry, the college textbook waiting on my passenger seat. *Three more hours.