you have a downward symmetry about you, your mouth rests a bit too deep in your
chin, so to speak, you
speak in skinlight   my eyes slow to
capture all of you at once, b eaut  iful

honey, you
could speak in deep tones, rich and creamy
hard to swallow but   just
another
bite

and yet your words bubbleout like brave
little warriors - they emerge in such
formation and
present themselves
, not to
question

where are you, asleep?
with all my childhood dreams
some foolish fantasies? and
the clouds I've already tread on.

where are you, in a classroom with a
notebook full of everything but what
the teacher is saying? poetry
things you've known all your life, like
the back of everyone's head.

where are you, underneath the
foundation of my house? I hear
it creak and I can see the cracks
grow and
grow.

where are you, driving your words somewhere safe?
they'll melt in the rain, over-thought
and un-
cared
for.

Every morning I wake (It's alive! It's alive!)
I wake with a sense of new. A sense of old and
a sense that I'll do something minimal today,
at least, before I return to my cave and sleep or
read until the sun has made the rounds of her everlasting day.

Through the motions, in the motions,
on this boat in this vast ocean of 'HELLO MY NAME IS'
and an abrupt goodbye to something I hold very dear.
Or held, should I say.

Well, hand in hair ( I have so very little) I will go on.
Not too proud, but not shameful that I have something
to gain yet.

I have taken to taking each moment
with you
and trying to
put it into
words, but
you tend to
distract my pen
to the extent of just drawing
on you, on your back and
then abandoning that and just
holding you,
folding you
into my pocket,
I carry you,
through my day
and I dare say, you
carry me too.

the folds in my shirt appearing and dis-
appearing as my hips make the rounds, I
love the shape I take on when
hands caress my curves, they came
out of nowhere, it seems I was a length
of wood, a slab of material with no
definition until
the subtle crook in my arm was noticed,
the length of my neck and the fold of my thighs
as I lay on my side, too.

creeping along my hairline in
beads of sweat and in
my eyes, in the corners he
urges along tears, rides them,

painting

down


my




cheeks,



then onto my neck,
kissing my collar bone
and, in passing,
tickles the freckles
between my
*******.

the little that's left of him fingers into
streams on my belly that has
been hungry for him -



- he knows.

these nights we
hold each other's voices and
wait for the clock to stop staring
before we unravel our sweaters, our
shirts our socks and
start to hum the tunes
we were taught as
children

You have a morning in you
the only reason for which I wake.

the rain begins first
                                     -timid

and the drops make no sound but
they are tiny bombs destroying tiny
countries destroying tinier cities and
even tinier
us as we
walk
                                     -unsuspecting

and kiss the cement with our
arrogance

oh
yes

work your way
into my arms, love,
work your way into
my hands, work
your hands into
mine, love,
into

mine.

if you pulled back my skin you'd find a layer of grey underneath.
there is nothing new in me, my blood no longer red my flesh no longer
pink just grey and worn parts like the paint thin upon an old metal dinette
set. no ash, for i have not burned, no
mold for nothing could live off of the nothing in me.

then again, there is a heavy in my chest that sits. i cradle it
with my throat (try to pushit   down) and in between
my ears again when i begin to fall asleep, it
urges no dreams but
i like the pressure on my
temples.

my lips, my cheeks like a layer
of icing on a display
cake.


every soft haired, long
fingers will pass me in strides, avert their eyes and
eventually they won't
see me
at all.

after the time it feels good to
sigh, it feels good
to moan a little and die
a little, it feels good
to try a little (I have)
give a little more and
take what I can
get, it feels

good.

If there really is a point where
everything
stops being
funny,
I sincerely hope that I
never
reach it.

I'm standing (just so)
the way you're sitting (just so)
just so, just so
you'll see my
hunched
back, see my
poor mouth that is
twisted (just so)
with cracked lips and

for you
I won't fake composure when
I haven't any.

My eyes are falling
asleep for me,
and my brain has decided to buzz
and keep on
buzzing buzzing
bursting!
and then softly humming
back
to me.

I'm wandering and I wonder if
the wandering should
cease
so I can wonder a
little
longer.

There's no one here to
distract
any part
of me.

So, I am not
lonely, I am
alone.

There is a
difference, my friend and
you
can take that
to the
bank.

fiddling with the hue of your skin and as it darkens so does your
outlook, how you love winter and all the things I don't and how you
somehow find a way to make me feel like
the worst person on earth just by
telling me
I am.

give me alittle warning, I could
have you  a little place cleared in my lungs
ready for whenever you need
to take a breath, give me a little
warning. I'll have you a
drawer space clear,
a fist's portion of my
heart in which to boil your blood and
a patch of sunlight in my window
for you to lie in,          bloom
                                   alongside
                                                 me

Erase
erase
erase and
rewind.

As long as I'm a child,
I won't mind,
I don't
mind.

I'm cracking under
no pressure just
pleasure and I'm feeling part-
icularly bold this afternoon, sitting
on my sofa in my den in my
by-all-means-I-do-matter life!

I'm loving the sunlight coming through that
window and thinking how much I'd like
to be part of it, to go up in flames and give someone
else a chance to sit comfortably in my
blazing glory..


I think maybe I need to step everything up a notch.
I'm not very good at math.
Perhaps I could do that.

I wish I could fill your glass to the brim
and have you
                   over
                      flowing
always.

I said 'best'
and then I realized.
I
lied.

You have never been
my 'best'
And you have never been your
'best'
You have been
and will keep on being
what you always were

a fair-
weather
friend.

Are you really under everything that I touch?
Or are you just pretending to exist in my world,
as I have done with so many others.

(I have trouble
believing
you)

you say things so charming,
they practically
take my shirt off

for you.

It may be a man's man's man's world but
I'm glad I'm a woman, not just
a girl

in your eyes
anymore.

let every smile be the kind
that melts into the face like butter,
spreading  itself in the heat of
this moment.

but most of all, I want it
on your
lips.

For as much I
don't
know,

and as much as I
want to
know,

and as much as I
wish I
hadn't
known,

when it turns out I
didn't
know

a thing,
all
along.

you should never go looking for something
because then IT can't find YOU.

and as natural as things are today (not at all)
I WOULD mind if you held my hand (not at all)
just not too hard because that would mean we had something and
we don't.