as we
loom
our hands

tethered
like a
cat's
cradle to
the sky,

a slight shift
of foot and
the landscape
scatters
drunk
as the blue
seas of the
cloud,

the tide
strides to
the open shore,
wind in her
arms,
salt on her
breath,

every step
decadent and
rebellious,

every sip of the
wind an icy
storm,

and the sky
hangs like
a pendulum
in an old
grandfather
clock,

calling out
crazy minutes,
breathful
seconds,

i stand next to you,
knock on the door
of the airy sea
stare out,

curve like
an echo in a
cave,

a handwritten
poem, carved
out of air

while you,
boy of dream,
kiss me like
a wild sea,
restring the
broken violin
of my heart.

My words are like a lemming of
forceful regrets, as my phrases
Seem hell bent on the destruction
of themselves/

Not walking but running with
syllables closed, each word wrapped
around another, then they just walk
on air into the void of nothingness.

I am alone and my words are not
heard for they are lemmings, reaching
the tip of my tongue and then just
fall in silence, **I'm frightened.....

let me yoke to you.
twist mine into yours.
***** me in at the hips.
lift me into your if's
and have me, present.

our torquing bodies
charging each other,
holding back the

bloom of darkness.

yes, it is true:
we are
closest to the dark.

but we are also
sown to the broadest urge
that wrote us.

this ebb is lit with written poems,
receding into the lightness of dense being.

so,
jot me
into this

and i
will
exist in
your margins,

like nice little notes
that mean everything in the world.

i can move furniture around as much as i’d like, and you will still bounce off the cushions;
you’re down the hall, i’m waiting for you to come home, you’re in the holes from thumb tacks, you’re calling my name from the other room
do you still feel the weight of the wall/door/body on your knuckles? does it still sting from contact?
you’re in every song, you’re the space between here and there, your fingerprints on DVD's, your mark on my bedroom door.
how is it that i am stuck holding your rearview mirror in all of this rubble, how you went from always watching your back to checking mine for exit wounds to becoming one?
months later, and you’re in bills and documents, your shorts in the old closet, your tie from prom under the dresser
your ocean eyes cracked into old photographs ripped from frames, your chicken-scratch left handed writing across paper in green marker, i should’ve read the signs.
how is it that somebody can take every bit of you with them, but leave pieces behind so you can remember the crash?
even the stars spelt out your name, the moon held us together, i handed you all of me on a silver platter and you spat it back in my face
remember when the world felt so small, so effortless, when love was always returned? I didn’t know what I was getting myself into that day in March, I didn’t know how it would feel to rest my head on my pillow, swallowing back tears. somedays I wish I had been less reckless, but most days I think about the way your tongue wandered my mouth and I remember that love isn’t meant to be held carefully.
why is it that i cannot get your ghost out of these walls, why is it that i cannot get your voice out of my head, everything moves in clockwork, if only these clocks worked.
maybe things would be different, maybe everything wouldn’t feel like deja vu, maybe i wouldn’t be checking my back for you to re-enter,
im gaping.
you made me feel like something more than a few broken plates and then you broke one over my spine and the world shifted on it’s side, what happened to us, baby?
your hands suddenly on my throat over you ******* another girl behind my back, i caught you but you snatched my breath right from my body
and i was blue like your eyes and i forgave you
and here i am, clinging onto pain because that’s all that’s left of you
when will you stop poisoning my thoughts? when will i be at peace?
you prey on the weak, but i am not a weak thing. it takes the strongest kind of person to hold another up when they’re already falling, my hands never shook when being your brace, maybe you just needed something to reduce the swelling of your mundane childhood, maybe it was the absence of your father and the anger you had built up for him, maybe you could contort my face into the one of your father, i can tell you now that painting my skin black and blue gave him no consequence for his leaving.
you cannot hurt me anymore. i no longer fear you. you cannot hurt me anymore. i no longer fear you.

Beauty was the only thing simple about her,
for she was quite simply... Beautiful.
Her voice was a 1,000 years of happiness:
her tongue one precise moment of glory.

The sun melted into her skin like frost
on a late spring day,
as she napped like a cat;
feral in her beauty, wild in her heart.

She buried her dreams deep in the moonlight.
No one could steal them there,
but all her friends wondered
why she always lost herself in the stars.

Your love is addicting –
like…
******* in my beard
on a Tuesday night.

Teach me to see
as an infant:
I need everything to be
for the first time again.

I want to watch you bleed –
into the subtext and margins
of my notebook
so we can dispense with the periods.

Your sweat is bitter
like dreams deferred,
but I still long to lick
your mind and taste your voice.

The waves tossed about in her soul
while I drifted perilously in the deluge
all the while wondering what monsters swam below.

With thunder in her voice
and lightning in her eyes
I knew that the blood of the gods
still pumped through her veins,
but I was still just a man adrift.

I longed to calm her tempest,
but I wanted it to rage just as bad.
Her lips were salty and solid,
and gave no hint of the hurricane within.

She was a storm destined to be wild.