i still haven't figured out the color of his eyes. when i look into them, i swear i'm staring directly at the sun because they are blinding but just warm enough to make me stay and i can't look away. his lips taste like mint and raspberries and when he smiles at me i don't know to stop my hands from trembling. he says my name so softly i stop breathing but i almost catch my breath long enough to ask him to say it again and again until it's all i can hear. i want to fall asleep to his laughter. i wouldn't compare him to anyone from my past because he is a place i have never been to and he is so intriguing i want to explore his entire being. i want to know what it feels like to have his calloused hands on me and to feel his lips pressed against my collarbones and i want to listen to him talk about his day. i want to see him get worked up when he is trying to say all of the things that he hates about himself and i want to tell him how wrong he is but i don't love him. i don't love him. i don't love him but i want to.

"--you know, I've either had a family, a job, something
has always been in the
way
but now
I've sold my house, I've found this
place, a large studio, you should see the space and
the light.
for the first time in my life I'm going to have a place and
the time to
create."
no baby, if you're going to create
you're going to create whether you work
16 hours a day in a coal mine
or
you're going to create in a small room with 3 children
while you're on
welfare,
you're going to create with part of your mind and your
body blown
away,
you're going to create blind
crippled
demented,
you're going to create with a cat crawling up your
back while
the whole city trembles in earthquakes, bombardment,
flood and fire.
baby, air and light and time and space
have nothing to do with it
and don't create anything
except maybe a longer life to find
new excuses
for.

You know you're really out of energy when you can't even get negative energy from painful memories

do not date a girl
who writes.
she will internalize
everything,
carve poems
into your eyelashes
instead of
kissing them,

she will analyze you,
calculate age
from the rings
your coffee cup
leaves
instead of refilling it.

she will memorize
the way your
lips curl around steam,
but not that you
take it
two sugars,
no cream.

she will read your
palm instead of
holding it
against her chest.

she will not
blink
when you leave,
because she is
already
romanticizing it.

Einstein's Relativity tells us that time slows at fast speeds,
So much so that it stops when travelling at the speed of light.
As you look up at the stars tonight think of this:
The photons that travel across the universe to your retina,
Are created in the depths of a star and destroyed within your eye,
In the same instance.

i will stop writing poetry like a eulogy when you start making me feel alive