wet ink is a constant river
weaved with octopus fingers
running back home to the sea
salt water drinks your poetry
a small song riding her waves.

the sky was pink

lost in bed, room 26

blue motel walls

silent narrow halls

soft music in the streets

my hands, your cheeks

soft sighs

angel eyes

maybe

t h i s

is

the

P a r a d i s e

i've been searching for

Night fell around me
like a wounded animal
in a garden of statues
closing their eyes,
not dreaming,

they are blinded
by the moon
as it cruised by
like a ghost ship,
or a sack of ashes,

the only sound
the quiet humming
of sleeping souls

and a shovel
clearing ground
for digging
the deepest dark hole.

The sky opens up
And the clouds of my mind rain down
Pour on the dreams of tomorrow
Until they're soggy, ruined things
Bleeding into one another until all that's left is a mess
A jumble of black ink.
Broken memories of a time before
Are swept into the flood
And the river of me flows rapidly
Until the sharp stones are worn smooth
And I'm left with little of what I once had.
Until my emotions build a raft
Of good times and bad
Of uncertain hope for the future
Void of fickle ink that can blotch
And written instead with permanent marker in its place.
Because the good times are now
But surely there are more to come
So I forge paddles out of thin webs of happiness
And begin to fight the current
To start moving back upstream.
And the webs weave into permanency
Until the future irons itself out
And the past replays over and over
And they both meet in the present
So a golden light shines on it all.
I can breathe without the fear of drowning at last.

i.

branches of black night
the rain taps on the roof
everything is unguarded
a bird breaking open the sky like
a dark tear.

ii.

our love, rooted to
the earth, scattering
bright oceans
tender as a star.


iii.

dance of love
limbs wild and joyful
lull of a kiss.

iv.

ocean breaking, each wave,
flowing back to its watery song,
flooding and flowing,
flooding and flowing.

i do not love you
words are not in abundance
i am not drawn to you
like birds migrating to
warmer heavens
i felt something brief,
my breath was caught
by love's noose,
but stranger things happen,
i do not love you,
because to love you
would be to become you,
to capsize like a boat,
submerging into red seas,
i do not love in small measures,
to do so would be worse
than blasphemy,
i feel for you,
but i do not love you,
i do not search for your
face in crowds,
i do not love in honesty,
only lies pounding
hoofs on loves ground.
i cannot love you,
because the taste of it is
strange in my mouth,
an unwanted flavour,
like sand and dust,
in the midst of something
that should be sweet.
i do not love you,
or i cannot love at all.

My body,
host of the latter beast of being  
Has infected me
abhorrence flowing through the veins as if a sweet ****** remedy
What earthly holds it has on the simple minded
What policies it makes of the limited.

Jesus,
Would you kindly redeem me?
And take the aching bones and implications from underneath me
Lord take my flesh.
Have it for your own.
And as for my brothers and my sisters
remove the cursed metaphors and fixations that contain their inept perceptions of identity

Allow the spirits to Dance,
On their infinite spectrums
O We'll make a routine of it.