the things i feel & mostly what i think
about every face i see when walking home
at 5 am, at 5 pm, when the sun is grudgingly
coming to terms with the night,
they are ephemeral & strong
entering like belligerent intruders,
& even if i always leave my door open
words & images filter in through the window

the cracks in the cement speak to
the cracks of my mind & the sound of a man
yelling at someone else on the phone far away
brings the sound of trumpets to my mind
i have no way of conveying this to you
or to anyone i may exchange words with.
words, in any tongue, offer no justice
to the things of this life & my perceptions

for i am made up of a thousand different things
endless comings & goings of happenings
& circumstance. the memories alone could fill
volumes, but it is not of any significance
like i had once, rather naively, dreamt.
this life, marked by a series of omens is
mine & mine alone to *****
i hold the present loosely in my palm

in the faces of others, that fade in & out
i see myself & every other man who has
walked this earth alone & in the company
of other strangers. they reappear untouched
by the passage of time. just as my being
seems to go on regardless of the slow rot
that is this lonely communal  life.

at first, i kept my distance, for fear that
you might burn down this secret garden
of myself, timidly opened up to a slash & burn
of the field where others had all planted seeds
& where many things had lived & died before
then when i thought i knew you, i hoped that
you could get wild flowers growing along
the endless edges of my blooming mind

as with all things, the signs & symbols
spoke to me in an incomprehensible poetry
& it’s only just now that i come to realize
your incompetence is not yours alone
but that of us all, who understand
that to be alive is to inhale the sharp beauty
that wears the clothes of stimulation & death.
these human ashes will feed the greenery to come

i nod my head & acknowledge that this is what
it is & what it shall always be, release my grip
& shall merely go along for the ride

i want you to tell me why
when all has been said & done
you’ve said nothing at all

the song on the radio
takes me back to places
i haven’t been to for a while

my heart skips a beat

it’s not that i want to return,
only that i’m happy to be
composed of places like that

one day, when i’m a woman
& more than an angry girl
i’ll let one of them love me
as i suspect they could

but now i am too busy
trying to put black
butterflies in black bags
& wasting all my time

trying to swallow them whole

des espoirs,

toujours nombreux,

dans sa tête,


des regards,

souvent curieux,

dans ses yeux,



des clopes,

toujours une,

à sa bouche,



des verres,

toujours vidés,

dans sa gorge,



des angoisses,

toujours présents,

dans son cœur,



des papillons

parfois volants,

dans son ventre,


des pensées,

souvent gonflées,

à son sexe,


des mains,

jamais ses propres,

sur ses cuisses,



des trémoussements,

toujours violents

au niveau de ses genoux



de la danse,

toujours frappant,

prend ses pieds



la guerre prend lieu

sans approbation

dans son corps



des tensions,

et la détente

en bataille éternelle

beneath the stillness of my ocean,

there are currents overwhelming,

& it’s a gentle, persisent undertow

-

they pull me down.

-

I can not tell, at times,

when the sea only whispers,

those waves of wonder,

I am all smiles on my vessel.

-

but lo! at times, I remove my hat,

And without, I can see reflections,

(refractions too!)

of the sunlight, illuminating,

the trenches & dark spots,

the layers I seek not to swim,

-

it is there, where I search for a map,

but there is no map, or guide of sorts,

my ocean remains ever unknown

it is there, where I float alone

-

they pull me down.

-

what is the worst; to know not

your ship or self?

I do not see either…

I can only see the reflections

-

that truth is drowning me….

-

I have made my boat bright,

intertwining daises freckle

the sides, but it is not me

-

& true! the piece will work

but for how long?

-

I fear I have not made it strong.

-

still, I shall sit in it. it carries

me well…

I have made seat enough for two

took the time to fill them up

no! my boat is full…

-

I must make for you, a space!

have my seat here…

me, I shall lay on the floor!

-



yes, I like it better here…

I can see only the sky…

& for miles & miles, I will

dream of, one day, sharing this view

-

& we won’t have to tell at times,

what the undertows are murmuring

-

I will not listen;

I will not let them pull me down

i want to give you what lies inside

of me : a raw, dying hell cry

seeks its way to the Light



call it forth with a glance,

coax it with the force of your hand

submit myself to your whims



lay me down in the coldest cold

extract all of the dancing demons

that haunt this carbon frame



only in the most violent caress

can you set fire to the pulverized

ruins & rubble that cage me