sharp and sweet I imagine
That I must burn a smell
up the inside of your nostrils
just where the bridge
of the nose
meets the eye
but you let me in
and inhale it all
a tangle of life edging
to the back of your throat
flavouring your tongue

Why is it that we never truly appreciate
The value of someone until it is too late?
A hundred flowers on a wintry grave site
A torrent of tears cried at midnight
Groanings of morning dawn prayers' sighs
Added together cannot ever realize
A past that has passed

Alas, that weighing debt
Of unreconciled regret, becomes a treasure
From which we measure
The relationships of today, tomorrow
Maturing into overflowing blessings
From that was empty sorrow

anger uncontrollable wildly swings to and fro
a weathervane shifting it's glaring arrow
from me to you to me to you to me to god
this tempest boiling over from my half full mindset
spills forth from my body a black wicked liquid
its leaks from my pores and pours from my eyes
spews from my mouth and is felt in the
tremors of my hands
incensed irate rabid sick and shaking
my mind like a dog should be put down out back
an execution style burial one bullet to my head
just watch for the blood spatter
don't want to infect anyone else

a jazz club in new orleans,
late evening.
the girl who grinned at me from
behind the bassist has
oysters on her breath and
hints of my lipstick still smeared
around her neck,
but i won’t tell her.
i’ll let her forget me like
she forgets the rest of them,
then notice the shy little
smudges from the other side
of her vanity and wish that
her familiar bourbon street boys
knew how to let their fingertips
slide down her spine the way
mine did.
the timing’s got nothing to
do with it. my ghost is lingering
on the skin of anyone who has
ever tested (swam in, drowned
in) these waters.
they’re playing “bye bye blackbird"
and she’s forgetting already.
i’m letting her. the remembering
comes once i’m lost at
sea.

To you, I owe each sleepless night

Which I pay by every turn and toss

Until morning drags her violet light

To collect my dues, each hour’s loss

This is not something that I resent

I have found delirium to be a pleasure

As the only things dreams can present

Are fleeting moments, a frantic measure

I know we spent at least three days

As slaves to desire, instead of rest

With crimson eyes, a rosy craze

And even passion had confessed-

That she grew exhausted, and so she left

Yet still our bodies found each other

Knowing her absence was no theft

For the true criminal was another

A crueler kind-his name is Time

And it seemed as though a second spent

Brought upon the cathedral’s chime

If only to remind us of our rent

Late again, and again it’s due

But he had taken our every cent

I will never regret giving me for you

For sleepless nights is all it meant