At least if you don't ask,
I don't have to lie.
I've spent most of the past
few months asleep
on the bathroom floor;
sick of keeping everything in,
too tired to let it out.
"Home" is such an empty word.
I'm not sure why it felt
whole coming from your mouth.
I'm not sure
why I felt
whole.
We both know I'm just an idea
to carve into sheetrock
with swollen fists;
leaving worn out holes that
your heart never fit.
I try not to wake up,
but my body is used to
(everyone leaving)
routines.

Climb into bed and...

Hearth embers of body heat circulate,
Tourists on self-guided walking tours,
Exploring the cabalistic eighteen chai holies of the
Human body, temple depository of spark divine.

Heat sparkles cross over the isthmus of Touching Toes,
Continental negotiators, swapping free heat for icicles,
2 X 10 interstitial connections, now land masses filled,
Global warming credit trading par excellence

Fingers, jew wandering, exiled to freedom,
Intertwined within soft-edged, graying sea grasses,
Coverlet over pounding chest,
Hands illegally mining tousled head hair,  
Nestling, nesting, without proper permits

Lick away the rumbling hoarseness
Coating a neighboring sleepy throat,
Gate crasher bringing surround-sound comfort,
Seeking to seal and still the groans,
Escaping prisoners of the ills of the wearied mind

Your favorite parts inspiring, demanding
Song, word, drawing or simple quenching,
Tonic of revival, an affirmation of self,
Existence proofs met through need

I write this for me, for her, for you.
Suckers for iron pyrite, most will skip this polemic,
What you don't know about me could be a
Hit show on prime time cable TV.

Like a cute commercial that makes you smile,
For a product you'll never buy,
I write this for me, for her, for anonymous you,
I am the voyager, you the ******.

Middle of the night envisioner,
Re-writer of The Gift of the Magi,^
If I die today, I leave this as my last
Will and Testament,
Just another love poem
You'll never read.

so listening to Sondheim talking
art, composition and
inspiration,
he says something that so astounds me, my core shaken.
hundreds of songs composed,
but only one,
only one!
autobiographical.

ashamed. I am ashamed.
99% of what is scribble-scribe, about myself,
so I flunk my very own poem exam.

worse, I knew it true
but would not say it lest,
my shame public pronounced,
till now.

his target market was the theater-goer,
the public, you.

mine, myself.
you invited into ******~voyage,
to peer into me
peering into me

but I have an oath modest taken,
from know-now on,
I will write
About You,
For you,
Less-on me,
Lessons of us....


Jan. 25th 2014.

It's near to midnight,
and the work week fright,
so let's last-raise our glass,
and be upstanding,
let the words of
sleep-steeped prose of
a younger poet
rest our heads,
leading us to wander
off to sleep,
where we meet and greet
our poems borning
in their rawest form:


*can we walk
swaying like the tide,
along the damp, moon-lit breast of the beach
and fill the empty bottles in our clenched fingers
with lavender and red ocher,
a pallet of dawn
reflecting off glass?

can we...
drape ourselves in hanging hammocks under a
wide eyed sky?

i only want to listen to the distant roar
of water attacking sand,
like soft, silk whispers in a
salt canopied bed,
crickets chirping through the night time
warmth,

and tropical, sleeping
breath
slowly unleashed.

pink lip stick, purple eyeliner, orange bracelets,
green hair, writing with black ink on white paper
blowing blue smoke rings into the air, with time the
walls turn yellow
everyone always compliments the pigmentation on my
face, they call them freckles, they're "cute"
everyone always wonders about my color choices, they think it's
funny, that there's too many vibrant color and they don't "match"
they think there is something wrong with my eyes, "maybe she's color
blind"
but that's not it at all, because all i see is colors, i do not see anyone as a person,
but as a color.
they wonder, they do not ask. they sit and stare or smile and nod.
if they did ask, they would realize,
to pigment means to color, and i am forever color in my existence
inside and outside the lines