So you have lost it.

Relax, relax -
we are only witnessing the passage of an era.
Relax, relax - it is only
something new.

How life, with something removed from it,
falls down on its own floor,
like a cupboard with a suitcase taken out.
Like the crowded feet and shins
of a demolition.

You are only
whatever fits in a cupboard on the Earth,
and the Earth has greater mass,
and boy,
it will hold you down.

Why, it goes on forever.
Relax - we are only witnessing gravity.

Well.
Life does not desist its tangling.
Two dogs fight for a warm corner
where sits - one
abandoned man with a handful of soot
Wood is ash minus fire.
That suitcase was empty, anyways.

Find something else to do with the space you saved.
Find something else to do with your hands.

So you lost it after all.
Fill your life with tennis, and poetry.
Shroud yourself with something like knowledge,
swaddle yourself with something like comfort,
and exult as you are waved ahead
to fatten your bag with the delirious new.

A skinny cat mounts a brick wall
to admire the scenery -
sprung up out of nothing
by new climbing.

It's a good feeling this
positive vibration of the spirit at
1 forty 8 in the dark
which
        dare I allow my fresh naive thought to venture out
              into our sleeping world
convinces me that
tomorrow is going to be
a great day

Harsh wind come
chill my bones and
lead me to birth
my own fire

there is something tragic about the young.
there is something haunting about the ***** of a young man’s browning neck.
his neck and those sweet earlobes and the tremor and clench of his thoughts provoking him
and tension bleeding quietly through the tissue and muscle and precious bone. there is something tragic about the young.
men, how they break out of one neediness and into another….

i had this lover who hated women
he hated women because his mother hated him.
when he told me this i decided i would forever keep my heart away from him,
he was dangerous
and full of fear
and full of this need to destroy.
he needed to ruin.

he needed to tear into something tender and pure and foolishly expectant
and pour all of his darkness into the frayed, howling gap.
suddenly he needed something in my slightness, my body whiteclad and open and unbroken ...
one spring cold with persistence
i forgot about that promise to myself
when for some reason i felt                                     so ugly

and then yes  he ripped,

ripped softly

into me.

do like rain severely
smaller lips smaller
kissing lips kissing
tinly divided mouths
kisser mouths kisser
like rain do severely

At the center of the planet,
I believe there is a fountain.
I think that once you've made it through
the Earth's core, its hardened shell,
you pass through the curtain into the heart
of everything, and there,
you'll see it for the very first time.

The fountain would be simple,
shaped from rough grey stone.
The water rushing softly over pebbles
tossed into the pool at its base, left
by every traveler who's passed through
before you.

You have a pebble of your own.
You've kept it since you started digging,
and it's stayed with you since, lighting
your way when things grew dark, and
showing you where to go when you've
gotten lost. It's kept you company, when
no one else could.

Let the pebble slide through your fingertips
like a cool summer's rain, and keep your hands
held outstretched, make sure you don't
miss anything. This is important.
This is what you've been waiting for.
The Earth receives your blessing.

She is waiting for you outside the curtain,
and as soon as you pass through, she takes
your hand. The evening shadows in your heart
pull back, receive the light, and you fall into step
with the tide. And this, never forget this:
the moon will always sing you home.

Turn out the lights.
I want to dance in the darkness of my sin.
I want to let down my hair
feel its length run wild down my spine.
I want to feel my arms reaching out into the nothingness,
want to feel the touch of the shadows
as it burns my flesh.
Turn out the lights.
I want to dance in the darkness of my sin.
I want to hear the silence of my solitude, hear it screaming
at me from the pinpoint horizon
I can't actually see because I
turned out the lights so I could dance in the darkness of my sin.
I want to feel the void
at the very center of my being
shaped like the soul I sold to a devil disguised as angel
disguised as man disguised as devil.
I can't tell anymore. Even in this
darkness, it hurts to keep my eyes
open. Even in this darkness I can
see the outline of my nakedness shining
like a beacon out to sea.
But this is not the beacon calling
to lost ships like mothers call to children.
This is the beacon that blinds my eyes
and reminds me of my imperfections.
So again,
turn out the lights.
I want to dance in the darkness of my sin.
Please, just turn out the light
that burns within me. Cut out its source
and let me fade back into the darkness.
Turn out the lights.
I want to dance in the darkness of my sin.