little dark girl with
kind eyes
when it comes time to
use the knife
I won't flinch and
i won't blame
you,
as I drive along the shore alone
as the palms wave,
the ugly heavy palms,
as the living does not arrive
as the dead do not leave,
i won't blame you,
instead
i will remember the kisses
our lips raw with love
and how you gave me
everything you had
and how I
offered you what was left of
me,
and I will remember your small room
the feel of you
the light in the window
your records
your books
our morning coffee
our noons our nights
our bodies spilled together
sleeping
the tiny flowing currents
immediate and forever
your leg my leg
your arm my arm
your smile and the warmth
of you
who made me laugh
again.
little dark girl with kind eyes
you have no
knife. the knife is
mine and i won't use it
yet.

I met a genius on the train
today
about 6 years old,
he sat beside me
and as the train
ran down along the coast
we came to the ocean
and then he looked at me
and said,
it's not pretty.

it was the first time I'd
realized
that.

Ice tastes better from a glass but you can't bear to part with plastic. I cannot for the life of me understand why you keep your room so cold. The window open, the fan blowing. It's set on high and you sleep undisturbed, unmoved, and unflawed. Splashed across the face of your television is a glossy reality that is anything but. When will you learn that life viewed through rose colored glasses is not a life at all? Worn tight around your finger is that ring you bought at the market eight Sundays ago. Impure metal, as I said, will stain you. But that's you, isn't it? Constantly going for the gold, but getting only green. The barren, glaring space beside you will soon be filled. It's love that you seek, but it's merely warmth that you'll find. Goodbyes were always difficult between us, so I'll say it to your sleeping face. Goodbye. I hope the world is kind to you.

.It's 4 a.m.A hotelbibleisspreading thegood newsto a local wino,as ***** childrenof intimatestrangers areplaying X Boxwith addicts.A young girlis learning toinhaleup on thegravel rooftop,scribing poetryon her armin the sparsemoonlight.Razor writingis sucha wasteof type O..

I fear the way you love me:
That tender-touching kiss
Seducing me to nightly
Sink deep in your abyss.

Those smooth caresses take me
To places that I dread,
Your cunning fingers rouse me
To plan such lies ahead.

But while we writhe and tumble
In lust's hypnotic hold,
I fear the final stumble
That will see the truth unfold.