How swiftly
Your eyes took me
by surprise
Distilling joy
How can I begin
to describe
The rushing tide
That curls up to my heart?
Your words
are like the breakers
On the beach
That roll in, fleeting,
But always returning
With a new mystery
Of something brought
From the blue.
What can I offer you,
But my shores, my cliffs
That flow through time?
To you, and meet you
Not at the edge,
Like so many see
at the surface,
But beyond
Where not anyone
But us can be
Where the roots
of  land
converge
with the depths
of sea.

You can never tell when/if they’re coming
will they reach/snag your sweater
with their mossy claws
and leave your body shaking/rigid in the darkness, and you
*******/choking your own breath.

You might/never see them,
you can(t) always feel their
breath, sticky on your sweating neck/knees
as they stalk with practice/perfection,
keeping you blind/sided.

Perhaps they are circling/behind
but they still he(a)rd your dank mind and
they can taste/fear because you taste it,
acid/tar clinging to the back/tongue
clutching the roof of your mouth
s(l)eeping in(to) your lungs.

Your sense of direction(less)
lost in attempt to hang (on) tattered flesh
to remind your self of time/reality?
to wonder where/when you left you and whether
you’ll ever walk back to your body—

But this, this is yours/your mind/mindless
being surreptitiously shepherded,
invisible to your eyes/your intuition,
which seeks/bares(t) gasps of light.

Hang on to those/sustenance,
gaps in the cloth of your (de)constructed mind
that withers/shreds/hopes again
only to find claws closing closer.
Where’s your reality?

Find it/they’ll get you/they’ll have you
You’ll have you what’s the difference?
When your mind is severed from its guy wires
just as your earthquake saunters from quiver to roar
and it all (col)lapses, you swallow you
into cavernous depths where your calamities/

Twin peaks pierce the sky
air of my reality twines
around their reaching heights

Eddies of stone slip under
my breath-blown snow
and winding clouds slide
into each fold and crevice
as I search for the path to
fiery gold striations
living in the center seams

But I have to breathe
and the caverns give way
to narrow passages
that condense my breath
suffocating into stillness

The night prowls gently
Just skims the ground,
Brings truth,
As all things shift
To darkness, breathing
In wait of

The orb
The eye
The white glow
Evenstar, awake,
Show the patterned iris
Entrance without a blink
Earth’s emerald call.

Sift the folds of light through
Dusty night in
A forest of dim arches,
Cast a gaze upon branches,
Smooth seeming

Yet they know eternities
Of watching
One another sway
In the spirit of wind

A silvery presence
In the midst
Of earth’s core truth,
The mind of alone
Whispers of hunger
In the night

That prowls gently.

Her two golden lamps made me pause,
As she spread her liquid gaze upon my flesh,
And slowly blinked
When she discovered that I stared back.

The dry valleys of age ran crazily over her face,
Deepening as she squinted in the sun,
A sun whose weakening hold on life
Put forth its meager attempt at warming her.

Her tattered, faded scarf was wrapped demurely
About her head; I am sure they had lived together long
And seen and watched many like me pass
On the graying pavement.

When she approached, she was like an old cart
With as many creaks, the difference being that
There was no one to pull her, help her along;
Certainly not I, who was mesmerized by her limping stride.

She cast her golden lamps into mine, lifting the shade;
I could see where her pride had been interred,
Left for dead, yet a shred of dignity still tried to dance,
As she plaintively asked,

“Could I, perhaps, have but a cent?”

They turned the lights out
on us again
they turned the lights out
so pull me in
your pool of candle light
we’ll find
firelight’s hotter
than the halogen kind
that’s cold like window’s
panes of glass
we’ll mist them up
with our breath’s caress
ghosting across
my hands.

I never thought about my whiteness,
other than to realize
that I’m ghost-white
and therefore
not as attractive as some
tan buxom babe.
I thought more
about my economic status:
upper middle class
with plenty
that would give me a leg up,
that I knew I’d never
lack for higher education.
It has gradually occurred to me,
though,
that even though I may have
a societal advantage
being white and all that,
I’m still a chick
and therefore have
several strikes against my success,
or at least a comparable salary.
Not to mention the load of ridiculous
expectations to be
mother, successful career woman,
housekeeper, **** star, and ******.
Hooray for the Bible Belt,
where church is next door to the ***
Adult stores targeted
at hick white males.
Hooray for my mother’s
Texas family
where it’s okay for an adopted
daughter-in-law
to be gay
but nobody else is allowed
and some of them will look
down their noses at my
Indian boyfriend
and ask me why
I’m diluting
my blood with a foreigner.

Vertical majesty unfurls
across the sky;
so many green dreams blossom
to gently sift the wind.

These, new—
born from age and cracked brown skin
gaze upon withering cities
that sprawl out from the earth,
rooted in foundations of steel
instead of life.

Their silver trunks echo mine,
but are devoid of the lilting dreams
that begin to flourish in my arms
only to fall away.

The ring you gave to me
bore a beautiful trillion stone,
and a band with artistic wave
polished to perfection shone.

The shine obscured the lie,
your dazzling artifice,
for in place of gold and gem,
salt and sulfur kissed.

worlds collide
on a yellow night
lies slicker than the sun
pooling on horizon lines
color starting to run
down sloping sides
of alibis
waiting to
come undone
when moonlight
shreds the hues
of sleight
presents it all
from dark to bright
shadows dance
where once was
light.

Effortless gaze, turned upon
varnished wood and open keys;
A perfect melody ringing forth
never drew me in like that night, when
I discovered that
loneliness really was
oppressive, and my
Vermillion lips shaped words, an
elegant, beautiful declaration, like
your hands
On black and white, dancing,
Unleashed.

Give me your glass
I'll give you mine—
Drink down that liquid fire
Watch it gleam in our eyes

Smiles conspire
We'll light up this town—
I'll start, drop my cigarette
alight on the ground

This bar is a beacon
A torch in the night—
Sparks singe our skin
Raw but it feels right

Give me your glass
I'll give you mine—
Drink down that liquid fire
Watch it gleam in our eyes

We tear through the streets
leave flames behind—
raze the city
with heat off our tires

They won't ever catch us
in our deadly machine
'cause we run on agent orange
instead of gasoline

Give me your glass
I'll give you mine—
Drink down that liquid fire
Watch it gleam in our eyes

I'll kiss you and accelerate
forget about the wheel—
taste heat on our tongues
our incendiary dream is real

Veer into the flames
our sins will detonate
a sensuous Little Death
for our immortality.

My heart withers when it sees
your perceived world of twisted fantasies
and it wonders where you went
and why these demons seem so
completely yours,
and yet,
in the end, they are always mine?
Where have you gone, and
Why don’t I know you anymore,
But did I ever really
When I tried to look inside you and me
to see where maybe our hearts would meet,
And instead I found cavernous uncertainties
that loomed from my arteries,
swallowing your overtures of surface grace
Who are you,
Now?
And who am I, indeed
with my façades of sanity,
And thoughts that rush uncontrolled
toward cliffs and over waterfalls—
And how can my mind lash you
until your images are like tattered ribbons
of surreal flesh,
Until you are not there,
and suddenly there’s only the anger
of my flaming stare?