this place is not my home.
but I don't know where home is

this is the closest I have ever come

(in two years I will be twenty)
(in three I will be twenty one)
my Spirit shall not abide in man forever,
for he is flesh

will I ever find a place of my own
(it all comes back to the old dream
of the landowner,
the homestead,
the acres and harvest)

sometimes I feel like
I'm searching for a way
to quit this earth
and carve out a place
in the belly of the universe
and call it my own
(will I be safe/happy/loved then)

my alma mater is not my mother
and neither is the holy ******

every non home has a shadow
(my mother has a power over me)

To the initiate
the blank specter of the welder's mask
looks more intimidating
from the inside.

And you want to take it off
to see the grinning shadows thrown
by your own hands.

And you want to be blinded by your work
and burned with the holy fire.

Someday, when you're sick
and feeling especially perverse
you should blow your thick nose
without a tissue
and just watch it all come out.

And maybe,
if you're in the right mood
you'll experience that perfect, beautiful
disgust
and you'll wonder
just why we invented tissues at all.

the last time I kissed you
I had just brushed my teeth before bed
and you were drinking orange juice

and all the time later I would remember
all the bitterness and softness
and my utter disgust

For the clouds
take the elevator.
All, all the way
up, up to the top
where the wind blows and your hair
is wet and frozen to your ears
(burned red).
You can’t see the sun
(and you can’t see anything else either)
not even the clouds
because they've swallowed you whole.

I was born an idealistic stranger.
(But weren't we all?)

I fell in love with the world.

When someone said
‘**** your darlings’
I loved them to death
and broke my own heart.