sometimes you just
      Don’t
want to think of it
anymore,
—you know?
but it keeps comin’,
  like you’re in an
  ocean or a toilet
or any sort of place
where you can do nothin’ but drown.    

     and it’s the same
            for all
            of us
whether we’re drowin’
or burnin’, freezn’, or bein’ crushed…
—it’s the same
ya see?

     and it keeps comin’
even when we don’t want
to think about it.
          so just let it come…
     like a stinging wave,
       or a sunburn,
           pin ******
or pressure…
  and let it go.

Because that’s how
    it is, sometimes,

for all of us.

I lost a battle
when I was hiding
with you—
casualties made way
for false saviors,
sweet lovers—
*** and snow,
that froze the pain.

You never said no—
not ever
not once
to me.
—A butterfly emerges
without permissions—
you might have said
(if you had said
anything at all).

You were that type—
that wide river,
that spanning branch
—a zen koan wrapped
in flesh

One fall evening
I stumbled through
the roses,
was bitten by the thorns
came clattering in,
fell limp on the
corduroy cushions.

You smiled,
always smiling—
serene like the Dali Lama
or some other
*******  

you never said
anything—
till you did.

And when you spoke
I heard
the truth of it
the truth of it
the horrible truth of it

thank you

………………………………..A transmission to my son:

sometimes i can catch
            a
glimpse of you
through the
                     slipstream
our   galaxies al-
most
align
THEN we can both Hear and See and SPEAK! The super-nova brilliancy of it is…
   .
   .
   .

   everything.
those
moments
so
precious
i
i must
i must
  (just breath, just breath)
…please

“That ******* town your obsessed with”
you said
like you were accusing me
of lying in bed with another
life (worse than another man)
another future
one that I was shaping to fit me

and you
left
left in my shadow
I’m Sorry.

one must be Daedalus
and one
must fly straight toward the sun
leaving only shadows.

I always wanted
to be the wilted flower
in the corner-
lashes petting two demure doves
folded over slender thighs.

But, I am the bull
and you are the china-
my loud braying
and pointed sharpness
shattering etiquette.

Your politeness
is a starched collar.
I itch
and fiddle with my cufflinks.

in this moment

fleeting

fluttering

gone

i have stolen your eyes

and replaced them  with the heat

of my breath.