she sat in the corner and asks

                                                   g                            WHY am I always digging at the bottom of this red box
r                                              n         ­                                                                 ­        '   w'''
  e                                         i                                                            ­                          '''e  '                           '
   a                                  h                                                            ­                         '          e   ''       '
     c                            c                              ­                                             '        '          p''   '          '                 '
       h                     a                                                            ­                    '          '              i '                      '
          i               e                                                            ­            '          '  '           '         n    '      '
            n        r                         ­                                                 '       '           '         '            g        '
                g                        ­                                                                 ­                                               '        '        ­       '

                                                              ­                                              Begging for understanding while the claws of misleading whispers are speaking sweet nothings, pretty as raw sugar. Which is the sweetener and which is the bitter black?
                                                                ­                         YELLING
out of frustration                                                    ­   YELLING                                                     out of patience
out of disappointment                                              YEL­LING                                                          out­ of ideas

      but take me by the hand                   drape me across my bed post
      use the other to pick me up  GOD   tell me to stop crying and
                                                     come home

Forgive me
I know sorry c doesn't always
                        u
                        t
                        it

  ­                                                  WHY is it when I run to stains on the carpet You find me with even more force than the last. I never thought You were .........
                                                       ­                                          such a clean freak

                                                          ­                            I hope You know
                                                            ­                          that I keep pushing
                                                         ­                             You into last weeks trash
                    but the trash has a certain aroma
                                  [[[Corinthians 2:14]]]

sometimes Your Fabreeze winds are the only thing that
let me smile
                                                                ­     I can't thank You enough for

                                                            ­        r
                                                       ­               e
                                                ­                         a
                                                               ­             c
                                                  ­                              h
                                 ­                                                  i
                                                               ­                      n      
                                                                ­                         g
                                                               ­                                out
                                                             ­                                  letting me hear the train whistle
                                                         ­                                      imagine the cloth cubicles  
                                                      ­                                         even while I
                                                                ­                               blatantly ignore it
                                                              ­                                 and keep walking
                                                                ­                               this long road

                                                           ­                                      on my own


Stop handing me ~tickets~
I'm scared one day I'll take one
and board

Unhealthy things crave a cure
no, I doubt you need to involve needles
or extreme measures, like shocks and straps
probably just a fan in a cool room to
calm the sweat

I'm sweating up a storm
downright unbearable, this heat
heavy on my neck. I know there's a breeze, I can
see it in the curtains. All these shakes and
itches. I need a Trip away

Doctors always exaggerate, right?
Assuming what they said about you, being
addicted and all. I see them as having lied
before. They've scratched at bug bites, can't they
notice his arms took the price of red relief, that's all

I hate skin and I hate the color white
I hate the way people's nose curve at
the tip, like a snag a crook a flashlight
I hate the small amount of hiding places
and I hate that I can't crawl into the disposal

I think it's because he fell off a ladder
at the age of six-cried a puddle and no
one said he'd be okay. That little boy just
cried and cried and realized he could only fix it
by wiping the snot off  and shutting up like daddy said

There was a light I loved and loved said
I would take care of it never forget how I felt
never never walk away beauty always toward but
the light was high I was low I kept digging a hole
further I went and further I went

No I'm not a relative, but I knew him
once. Decided to stop by, it's been years. When
I saw him face down I thought I'd bring him here,
never imagined he would get this bad. He used to
call me his light. I had to leave, don't you see why?

*The wind will take me and
away I'll float
to the sea to the moon
where no one is there

no one is there

your lips
       promise me
                beauty and possibilities
                             I love indulging
                                    in the whispers of
                                             glass slippers and
                                                   love letters
            but
                                                      sometimes
­                                                             those suspended moments
                                                         ­                disappear along with your
                                                            ­                       exhales of
                                                                ­           ~  ~  s ~
                                                               ­                 ~   m~
                                                              ­               ~   o~~
                                                             ­                  ~~   k~~
                                                             ­                ~~ e~~~
          and the taste of
                                                              ­                             reality overwhelms the
                                                             ­                                     sweet butter cream dreams
                                                                ­                                          all I want is a kiss
                                                            ­                                                     to end
                                                             ­                                                        happily ever after

I didn't like the smog
so I curled up deeper into
the corner of your pocket

when you reach for chapstick
to fight off the dry
there might be lint
there might be
paper leftovers from the cut outs
holding hands
there is still some white
under my nails

I hope you didn't see

I fell out of the hole
along with the coins
singed my sleeve with surprise
I had to avert my eyes when the
check came

I hope you didn't see

put your head higher
toward the sun and you
could be blind and deaf
everything is pretty
when you just don't realize
what you're missing

I'll reside beneath the ceder
wise about what is beauty and
what is molding wood
don't call for me
when all you see is
a rotten bench

I hope you see I'm missing

Just because my eyes
are slightly more red than the
average, and my ears listen more to
                                                                ­                                                    roars

than normal talk. My fingers are
more greedy, reaching for things
never yearned
                                                                ­                                                    before

I met you. Why now do familiar faces wish to
pour into my sharp eyebrows
                                                        ­                                                            speec­hes

I don't care much to hear. Does
it matter that running feels more
natural, instinct that I should feel
                                                            ­                                                        afraid

b­ut I don't. Do I care to
figure out
                                                                ­                                                    the monster

that reflects back into my cheekbones.
What does it hungar for? What does it
know? I'm not sure if I have the  
                                                           ­                                                          will

to overcome it. Or the ability to pry away
the nails that resemble too much
the rage of
                                                              ­                                                        claw

mar­ks. Dare I take a light into these dark
thoughts and search for long sentences
that traveled
                                                        ­                                                              awa­y

from the mess. What do I expect to find, what
is it I look to now for answers? Should I
stand on
                                                                ­                                                       what's left

of this old bridge with these rotten logs and
aging secrets? This sight- is it part
                                                            ­                                                            of me

or is it just a sad painting I keep confusing
with a sad memory. My heart aches for beauty
in the intriguing hues of gray.
                                                           ­                                                             or maybe

this gallery, this mueseum of
inner maps will lead to new rooms.
Red eyes, angry claws, mighty roars,
sharp eyebrows
                                                                ­                                                        the monster is

what I believed to represent. Perhaps
it is only a mere splattering of
                                                              ­                                                            brush­strokes

I allowed my mind to be absorbed into. Like
all good art, it captured my soul, paralyzed.
                                                      ­                                                                 ­     and I

was unsure of reality. How funny
it is to be so lost and not know it. Now
I see clearly, now I can
                                                             ­                                                              continue

to know. Know what I hungar for, what
I crave. I am what I want
                                                            ­                                                                 to be

and that is as comforting as walking
onto a porch to observe the sun as it
dives into solid ground.
                                                         ­                                                                 ­    Free

as the cool night air, welcoming
the stars and all the promise a new
morning has to offer.

when her toe hit the wood
                the nail split in half
                                                            ­                        in the center
                                        cracked just right
                                                     so when she applied pressure
                                 on her leg to be straight
                                                 up and down stretchy muscle
       the split
       splintered
                   and while falling she pumped
                                            air through her fists, open and closing
                                                         ­          maybe for the tan bar which
                                                           ­                         she could command in practice
                                    which she demanded now
                                   yet the stage was only the light and
                                                             ­                                              pieces of wood
                                                            ­                                                           and nail
                                                            upon­ landing the crowd gasped
                                                          ­             in entertainment
                                                   ­             at how graceful feathers
                                                        ­           flew from her mouth
                                                                ­     black and flawless
                                                        ­                            like the lace of her costume
                                                         ­                                                         envision­ing a swan
                                                                ­                                                   a crow
                                                            ­      it didn't matter at all
                   both could fly
                    but they had wings
                                              and she had faults, deep deep tremors
                                                 opened wide on the great black valley
                        coughing up feathers
                        when she wanted tears
and the crowd just stared
some smiling some surprised
                       all without blinking
                                     when the legs decided to extend some support
                       the mistake took root and gave her a rush of
shame
                               which allowed her to fly
                                          [briefly]
         ­        behind the curtains
                                                        ­                      like the crow
                                                            ­                   like the swan
                                      after the silence
                                     of awed mouths
                                                          ­gushes of applause
                                                        ­                           for the splintered tiny dancer
                               who tried to show the world she
                                                             ­    had something to say
                                                         but instead only managed to
                                                             sprinkle the audience with
                                                            ­            a few feathers.


They all gave it
rave reviews

ashes

litter the chalky concrete
black patches of dried skin scratched from the house
your house
swirling, because the creeping draft
stirred the leftovers, settled in the creases
by those two strokes of
troubled vision.
your face

it spread quickly, suddenly
as most wild things do
lazy and uninterested, red and orange
eating out of boredom, handfuls of
your house
what could I do but watch
you be swallowed
whole

the investigation proved to unearth
skeletons
rubbed raw in piles of
ashes
from the fire which ate
your house
I held up my magnifying glass
only the furrowed brows were
visible

they said it would be easy to
level the rubble
clear it out, rebuild- brand new
it would still be
your house
just stronger with steel frames and
brick walls (with windows)
if the fire came to
snack
the ashes would not
fall in your eyes like
dandruff
irritating right?
so will you let them
in?

I promise once you
let the steam strip away
the flashbacks
and allow the water to
blush your skin
the deflating moments of
ash
will not find the key to
your house
when I ask what's wrong
and you say "nothing"
for once, that can be the absolute truth
for you and I  both

Keep *Being A mouthed chord
Knuckle's Brace Acute angles, hoping to feel safe
Knots Bring Anguish to a man with no patience
Knit Better Antlers if *you want to survive in the wild
Kings Bombed Acceptance eager to heap on seconds, thirds
Knees Borrow Answers when shaved, scratched stiff
Knock Bravery Around and it will spin, dizzy and sick
Know Broken Angel's and in time jazz will sound like warm Yeager poured over January ice

Black ink
runs smooth
down the pages
into my cupped hands
for clean washing


A stain on your blue shirt collar
runs down
the front buttons
I don't care


smooth it does glide
but broken it will spill
I sense the clock
one minute late



the pavement is chipped
at the crossroads
of right and left
do you doubt me?



My dirt road
My dark breeze
My dead log
My black hand



do you doubt me?
I doubt you
I doubt the red stain
on your high pocket



it dripped on my shoe
I just bought
now might you explain
your lifeless stare?



I dare you to sit by me
touch my fall coat
and i'll hand you a leaf
red as the stain
on your high pocket

I tread the
space
crowded by the waves
and waves
of icy gray

tiny crashes
of percussion explode
against my knees
the mute sky
on my skin
gray

Beauty
of the vision
my binoculars
provide
allow my head to
bobble
above the line

for the fire
on the shore
by the lighthouse
is roaring
mighty
speaking
strong

Rain
will lead me
away
from the spot my feet
cant reach
instead
to a curling staircase
which leads
dare I say aloud
to the heavens

a place
my sleepy being
will stop moving and rest
forever

Burn it.


I won't watch the flames the same way

what are you thinking
at this very moment
.........
no really
..........
.........
.......
..
.
I wanted to know....

I can tell you anything
ok no I can't
something keeps me
from treating you like I treat my best friend
don't get me wrong
you're my best friend
but not like that
I would do absolutely anything in the world
for the best friend who knows me

I know I know
the same goes for you
but there are times
when I feel you tug up on the zipper
so I close it tight
sensing it just wouldn't be right
to spill

I want to
just throw it all at you
but your responses confuse me
throw me way off the track
you don't laugh you don't grin
and I know
I'm overflowing with sunny demeanor
into your half empty bowl

You said yourself you aren't happy
not long ago
and I let my oceans flow
while you said
more unimaginables
into my stained shoulder
from the back as you
let me walk out the door
carving canyons
on the way to my car
you were confident then
and I stood--a drained puddle

Do you know
that I think of you
every sun as it rises
every coffee and lunch
every blink every sneeze
every moon as it shines

the summer brings out
my pensive nature
and I want to explore
people's mouths
dip n dots
little bursts of tasteful
words and creation
it happens all the time
but especially in the summer
when my thoughts are the only thing
that could turn cold

They freeze often
too much to thaw
back to body temperature
while I shiver
I always think about glass

and how you put it between you lips
and breathe
how the jungle in your closet
paves the way to the bank
so you can spend less time
in the Subway
I feel sick to my heart
knowing you know
that I hate it

it wouldn't be that way
if it were nothing
but I see it in my sleep
brush it off my skin
wash it in my hair
taste it in my mouth
we both know
its something

I want to marry you
well
not right now
whoa that came out
kinda fast
don't run away I didn't mean it
but actually
[I did]
[I do?]
wait
did you hear me?
oh nothing

See I watch all my friends
twirl in true love
and I am truly in love
but I can't
twirl
if you don't move
with me

hey
what are you thinking
just say it
anything
that chair looks uncomfortable why do we chew gum today I had tea
I work too much my knees hurt I sit too much I hate bees
anything
anything
I love you too and I'm more than a motion I feel and think I feel and think and, well. what was I saying?
anything
anything


what are you thinking
don't hold back
I'm here and I want you
I want you to be my best friend
the one you aren't yet
........
you can tell me
..............
..............
I'm listening
...........
............
.............
........
....
.
okay

Emerging           are
            Wishes         lured


Moving                with
             Boosting confidence

Sustained
Staggers toward a long-term
                 Fulfillment

No, I can't ignore this
but
it shouldn't control me

it only took
my breath                        
                           away
and my heart
only sorta
                           fell      
when you said
I'm sorry
it's for
                          the best
for both of us

I walked a long time
yet when I snapped back
to the place I was standing
I saw I had only managed
a few steps
but that's a few steps I never took
before

my eyes keep shifting to the right
and I'm pulled to look at the road
transported
to this frigid piece of time
stuck, aching as it tries to move it's hand
down and force the seconds on
I'm not fooled, I know it's lost
in thought
just begging the world around to
hold their breath
so for the first time ever the moment could remain
unrushed and untouched
by anything other than
the past

like a fool I allow this
electricity in the air to
buzz and collapse into my
thoughts
and my heart starts reciting
a funny joke
that sounds like this:

"so this girl was sitting on
a curb
at this old campus
in the shadow trees cast
from the stars
and she kept looking
                                           right
and she kept looking
                                           right
this girl saw
these trees and these lights
and they acknowledged she was there
like a fine gentleman would tip
his hat
and she kept looking
                                           right
with some odd inclination that
she would find what she was
looking for
funny huh?"


I let my chin fall to my chest and
stared at all the pavement under my shoes
it was solid
I reached to shake the hand
of the fine gentleman's mighty branch and
it was solid
the metal railings, the reserved parking signs
all solid

I gulped in
buckets of icy electricity-
felt it stir inside
I can hear it humming
and it sparked this idea that

I'm solid too

I don't remember
how it feels
next to you
anymore

His cane bares as many wrinkles
as the tired sagging years
of skin
Trembling, the scuffle of leather
on the grass
ssswwwwissshhhhh
was not heard over the drags of
fresh air
New as it enters aged as it leaves
Does that glassy stare
see?
Is he searching for an X on the road?
or is he purely on a quest to
move
one swish in front of the other
escaping the burn of age
the spike of purpose the rush of
world
always better than the rush of
pills
8 a.m. "Have a nice day!" Grab, lean back, swallow
8 p.m. "Have a nice night!" Grab, lean back, swallow
escape.
shivering slightly
in the lonely place
skin thin as a
poorly made jacket
in seeps
all the cold
weathered from the storm of
living
the storm of
deaths

swwiisshh

-just move-

swwiisshh

-lean on the cane, lean on the pills-

swwiisshh

the Lonely Place, I live in the Lonely Place

swwiisshh

-NewOld  breathe  NewOld  breathe NewOld-


swwiis. Gaspgaspgaspgaspgasp

-Hold heart, reach reach-


*"I'm Scared".

I was thinking
skeleton fingers, all joints and points, are a lot like
my pencil
bare,  hard, with these cuts here and there that
I don't remember making, I don't remember happening
it would make the same screech
as nails against a blackboard
that scream of desperation, or is it anger, or is it fun
well anyway my blackboard is paper
harmless..thin..blank..
 ----------
|                |
|                |       <-------  see. blank. just laying there, anticipating.
|________|
even when the goal is
Everything.
wishing to pull together a string of words
--------la tee da---------there once was------------the end-----------the beginning------------
unfortunately, they all just hang there
                                         a
                                      little
                  ­           like ornaments
                         on a Christmas tree
                     but instead of sparkling
                like all good laughter and songs
           they sort of hang there with sad curves.
      these bits of gray. I wonder if they even form          
  letters. Really I  just see all sorts of crazy symbols                
                            crazycrazycra­zy                            
                           symbols symbols
                           crazycrazycrazy

Tripped and fell today
wasn't watching myself
all these twigs, stupid rocks, mud
so much mud. ugh
it's all over my feet
seriously, it's a feat to go without the
accidental step you hope no one saw    
keep your eyes up- idiot....
then at least you'll be
prepared

and when you make it to the end of the road/path/decision/idea/goal
success! (it's alright that mud will come right out no worry necessary)
stretch your hand out to me
ill give it a good shake, show you a firm pat on the back
ouch?
oh-yeah I know, sorry
forgive my bony fingers      
and let me know if you ever need a pencil

Curious about
           the way
                   you built this
                                               solid ground
==========================================================­====================                             
so strong, so strong, so strong, so strong, so strong, so strong, so strong, so strong, so strong, so fast
===========================================================­====================

Won't deny that
               It is so much easier to walk, think, smile, laugh
                                                 live
                             There is no crumbling world around my ears
                                                            ­      there is no pouring salt water
                                                           ­                                flowing freely from fallen faces
                                                           ­                                                             HOWE­VER
?????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????­???????????????????????????????????????????????????????????
quest­ions questions questions uncertain uncertain uncertain doubtful doubtful doubtful real real real  
??????????????????????????????????????????????????????????­??????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????

I­ can see that rose is red
              I can see it grows
                               I can see it bend
                                              I can see it snap
                                                            ­     It looks like a **** to me
                                                              ­                A **** that makes your fingers drip
                                                            ­                                  Rose seeds
                                                           ­                                   so red
                               it all depends on how tight you hold the stem

###########################################################­#######################                              
I boarded a train, it zig zagged--quick, unstoppable uncontrolled. It was nice. It was, steel
###########################################################­########################

peered through the window
of this train
(slightly fogged, slightly blurred)        
But I managed to make out the image of
this girl
(this woman?)
whose back rested against the cushion, eyes wide, face open, shoes tied
she mirrored
impressionism
I noticed
the small details
her coat was covered
her hands were covered
                                                        ~­ with red rose seeds~

Hold me
like the branch holds the new snow fall
supported, content, each knowing the others role

No
not like a dying man holds a raft at sea
I am not your savior
I cannot resist the weight
I sink too

Hold me
like a mother who feels the weight of her baby's blue eyes
deep, connecting, gentle

No
not like an addict holds the needle
I am not your answers
I cannot control your shakes
I get lost too

Hold me
like a man so in love he will never let go
committed, strong, encouraging

No
not like a boy searching for a puppet to play with
I am not lifeless
I cannot be controlled
I lead too

I will

cut those strings and run
to watch the mother holding those baby blue eyes standing knee deep in snow while the man who holds her hand will never let go

this is what
I get
for saying
I love you

To the creator somewhere above all our heads,

they (we) call you
GOD

G   osh
O   h
D   on't we all wish

that we really knew
who/how/what you are
so
we could send you letters, with all the stamps you need, and we could ask all these
?  ?questions?          ? that float                                   ?                      ?                      ?         ?                  ?
float and attach to our finger tips              ?                    ?                        ?­                             ?                    ?
we use whatever we can to smudge it across sur(faces)
like we spilled ink on our hands and we can't get it off
                                        get it off
instead we just end up living with it, learning from it, painting with it
almost as if we believe that we can be artists who
paint in black and white
but there is lots of color too, all settled in between the letters between the
lines
lines and lines of these questions that we try to ask
or get rid of
                                        get rid of
because you know we all just want to make living a little less complicated, a little less
covered in smudges
always trying to make the perfect picture
Perfect.
Like heaven
Heaven
creating our own idea of the word here
just in case we don't find it
later on


I don't really know what to say to
all this air
what I say, well
it just shoots across and hits the wall
smack
waiting, stuck, like a post-it note waits on a desk
I think i'll peel it off and re-read
make sure I meant to say it aloud
then try harder
see, the thing is I ran out of stamps
but that doesn't mean I can't still address a letter and let it
float

GOD

G   osh
O   oh
D    on't we all wish for


more

I was about to cut away the bruises
until I saw their charm

Reaping the trees
I snagged the deepening black scrapes
it said to me in its way
that I was all remaining hope

I'll hold you in my basket
sweetie
in the kitchen you'll humiliate the others
with your colors

soft to the touch, you squish inward
hardly able to stand up for yourself
splotchy red with shame
warped straight face staring

can you breathe
through those holes?
I was about to cut away the bruises
until I saw their charm
a struggling artist in the fields

you were different with rot
distorted, grieving skin
keeping only the brown of the stem
the way it's usually seen

I only took a bite
to relish the unfamiliar
                                             I'll realize later
                                             I want better

its not all bad
sometimes I'm lost in the fog
trapped in the endless stream of blur
the hope seeps out with the reason

still darling I seek the edges
where clarity leaks into view
bringing with it the possibility of
real freedom and simplicity

I know the world beyond
full of prayer, relentless confession
I catch myself wishing to stay undefined
I catch myself wishing

Have you ever set foot across
lines set for the point in life when it all
comes together. I wave over my shoulder
there 's always something left behind

shifts in the wind keep
the trails an impulse, thump thump
we are leftover wisps
sipping on the dream that one day
we won't have to float away to fly

it's interesting to know
the truth is
the only thing
the.ONLY.thing.
that will stand- vivid and tall
right next to you
through all the madness
and it will keep you company
whether that's to a good place
or a bad place
and you can be sure that
it wont change
it wont hold back
it wont worry
when it stares you in the face
with the look of a bull that sees red
and releases upon you
answers.

Well.
it's super, really-super
to know that tiny glimmer of light
at the end of this black tunnel
was my imagination
thanks truth!!!
Now if you don't mind
and you DON'T
I think i'll turn around
and start walking out in the sunlight

and you won't see me again
for a long time

for that, little fake glimmer
is what you asked for

Dreamer
Dream me a dream
A house on a hill
door red as rust
Ill peer through the window
and see if your home


Dearest
give me a hand
An hourglass tipping-tipped
Sand slippery, too real
Which direction does it spill?
ill watch it; ill watch it


Damper
allow me a smile
against all the laws
A hollow thumping sound
The key is under the pillow
Hot and dangerous


Darling
throw me away
A book without letters
Useless to discover
Run fast to your treasure
go seek the great find

A canvas is merely a mirror
Yet, I change to fit the image-remake reflections
Feel me as paper in the frame- might I be glossy as oil, will eyes slant along bends in light,
does the dull perfume of ink still linger? Hush -
is there a faint pushing of blood through painted veins?
I taste the sour stroke of an artist's mistake
Pointed footsteps echo insults, "Stupid Girl". Such prickly laughter slit
the base of stone statues.
I sense a million standing bodies
and a building desire to melt- hidden as one of the alluring ladies
amongst the crowd. I will chisel my features to charm the masses
The lashes that brim my sight mimic the bristles of a paintbrush-
yes I blink masterpieces!
Enchanted emotions engage everything
With the speech from a baton, the passion in symphonies will mesmerize
Dive from the stage, explorer- sometimes when we imitate we fly.
The image becomes me, I become the image.
Will the lens of film alter too?
Might the harsh flash of society disfigure itself yet again?
I stare at us all- each an individual glimpse of art

I could say I told you so
but id only be talking to myself

it's quite obvious that
this is new
stretching out my legs and
walking
              walking around without a plan
                                 without those thoughts
                                                          those ideas
                                                           ­                         that one dream.......
                                      (it was so lovely)..........
it's alright my [love] friend, to admit that you still believe that. I know you do. I know.
yes, it'll be weird
walking around              
without you

yeah, of course i'm
numb
I will be, for a long time
yet just like when
I sit cross legged
on a couch or red plastic chair
and the feeling is lost
in what becomes rubber limbs

once I begin to move
not shifting positions, not trying to stay comfortable
when I really
stand up and start
doing all that walking
                                    walking
             ­                               walking
                          ­         walking
                       walking
the feeling shoots back

at first it is so
harsh and unyielding
I think I might never move
without this fire striking me down
well frankly I don't want to
fall anymore
I just,
I just don't

                                                          ­                                      I went looking and I found you
                                                             ­                                   and it was just like it was, but it was fleeting
                                                        ­                                        you looked me in the eyes, in the eyes
                                                            ­                                    said it was wrong, this didn't change a thing
                                                           ­                                     and when you walked away (because you were able to)
                                                             ­                                   you didn't look back, not once                
                                                                ­  I clutched my heart and watched you go until I couldn't see you anymore
                                                         ­                                       that was when I too, turned the page
                                                            ­                                                              


­so.....

I tell myself to
just keep letting my shoes hit the
pavement
and soon that tingling rush of pain
will subside
and it will be ok

and it will be ok

greasy.fatty.fulltoofull.sodabubbles.brownbrown.dressing.lettucet­omato.bread.fattywattypattypack-onyourstomach.fried.grilled.toast­ed.microwaved.unwrapped.boiled.fingersandforksandspoons.
jeansare­tightpushitaway.letitbe.waitabit.waitlonger.okbackagain.greasy.fa­tty.
lotsandlotsandlotsandlotsandlotsandlots.Idon'tlikeourmirror.­Idon'tlikethatimage.
nowayisthatme.letitbepushitawaywaitwaitwaitw­ait.

"What can I get for you?"

*"nothing"

Filled out a prescription
symptoms include
chance of heart failure

Writing this
                                                            ­ specifically
                                                                ­                               for you
                                                             ­ yep, you
                                                                ­                               in the black beanie
                                                          ­     wondering
                                                       ­                                        (because that's all I do
                                                              ­                                  on the weekends)
                                                       ­         if you read
                                                            ­                                     anything
                                                        ­         here.
                                                           ­                                       also
                     ­                                            is there anything    
                                                                ­                                    you'd like to add?
                                                            ­     because that
                                                            ­                                        would be great
                                                           ­       would be nice
                                                            ­                        
                                                                ­                    I think anyway

I'm tired of writing
about you
wish I could just drop the pen
release all this frustration
some other way
or even better
slap myself across the face
and be done with it
all this effort- feels so useless
can you believe
that this is the only way
I know how to try

A problem was detected in the letters of her name, there was too little a space between
the first and last letters too many mistakes in the ink, the punctuation was
closing the end of the sentence before she could remember who was crying
who was waiting for the crunching gravel who was waiting to find a fresh box of tissues
so that the gift wouldn't look like they were closing on their own,  I stood on my own I held a pose  steady in front of your eyes and watched them shake with
                                          nothing
closing from lack of sleep to keep away from the mystery of my weaknesses the mystery of why I
run but it's not to keep away but to keep in pace with the questions: yes and no
many times I have wandered into such stuffy neck collars and straight backs
they say no. sometimes I believe them sometimes I believe me. I say no
then you gather me into the right side of the room and speak about the word "it". you say yes
it is mine, I am it, but not even I can define what that means and I will say that yes sounds more like a seasick captain than the right choice in the right side of the room
I have talked about "It" and I have let my hands do the talking lazy sign language impossible to interpret impossible to not lift my head to the ceiling and beg for understanding
Don't you realize I need to feel a slip of cursive in my back pocket from when I was distracted
like you said I would  find
or perhaps a round wave of blindfolds that reveal a place of such perfection because it was
made for me
like you said I would see
There is a certain kind of happiness that resides beneath the rusting pumping veins that surround my pulse
can you feel it
no
can you find me
no
is this it
no
they are stacking up against the
tower
and your unknown middle name
I realized today that I was never found after I took a leap of faith into your arms
I arose a ghost of smiling excuses-it will be ok it will be ok it will
close
one day, out of business
out of chances- your board broke the trick tricked us both
the two halves, will you hand one to me? I want to stare at the ragged edge  
how will you write about it
miss the charm? or will it rant about the unlucky
hand dealt. there is always the next game and i'll bet on you
and your poker face
I can serve the table and you will have the split second of eye contact before returning to your
"oh so successful life"
and I will grab my coat and
walk home

Take a moment to consider
the exact person
you think you are
at this very moment
                                                Are you able to sum it up in a sentence
                                                or does it continue down the page
                                                building a story
                                                you couldn't confidently claim
                                                or really recognize

Are you left with the feeling of a missing phrase
caught, perhaps, in a familiar yet unapproachable silence
pondering the forgotten areas of your past, forced to realize where you've been
and
where you've yet to go
                                                There is a shift, of course
                                                in your posture as you re-read the words
                                                regretting the ink, the inability to erase
                                                nodding with your past self
                                                there was no other way to learn
If there is anything left to fear
it is doing yourself the disservice
of allowing a broken opinion to define
what it means
to be the exact person
you think you are
in any moment
                                                I observed an answer
                                                in a place willingly abandoned long ago
                                                that the reality of what matters
                                                of. what. matters.
                                                is so extraordinarily simple and clear
                                                once we let go
                                                of a script
                                             written by anonymous, rehearsed by everyone
                                                the answer is purely
                                                to live unapologetically
Yet when said aloud
we cringe, clutching our script
always secretly relieved
that the burden of defining ourselves
is on someone else's shoulders
                                 There is joy in the unshackled, undefined road ahead
                                 When you read my story you will know
                                 that not only is it mine
                                 it is a promise that we are more
                                 more than anyone else
                                 could possibly imagine

surrounded*          surrounded                    surrounded­   surrounded
surrounded                                   I am
   surrounded                                              remin­ded
               surrounded                          of a breeze when                            surrounded
                  ­                               I think                                                        s­urrounded
  surrounded                                        ­             of you
                                                     here with me                                                             ­ surrounded
                                         * sometim­es overwhelming
surrounded*                                   *sometimes gentle                    *surrounded
              surrounde­d                                  always surrounding                             surrounded
                                                    ­        b r  e  e  z   e  s though
              surrounded                           t­hey are moving                                     surrounded
      surrounded               here             * there*             fast             slow            
                                            ­                           they come                                                           ­     surrounded
                                     surrounded                                                     ­    they go
                                                            ­                 Can I rely on a b  r ee z e                                   surrounded
                     surrounded                              Can I rely on...............
                                       surrounded                     surrounded           .........       surrounded
             .......................                ............              ­   .............            ...................
    ........
....
**­you

I may not know exactly what to do
this could be all wrong
this could be all right
all I know is
I like how when my head becomes
too heavy and folds to the side
it comes to rest on your shoulder
resembling a shelf I can escape to
high above the sharp teeth memories sometimes
leave bare, snarling yet whimpering
afraid they are being enclosed
shut away
in a wooden box. smooth wood.
surrounded with travel tags that turns out lead to
the closet

this could be all wrong
this could be all right
however I know when my eyes drift I say goodnight
and it's not to you
in fact, a lot of me has absolutely
nothing to do with you
the links of my chains are dwindling
that's all me old friend
all me

simple peace
lazy behind the left side of my chest
it resides
the pain you created is becoming what it was meant to be
a memory
the past

                                                           ­                                I'm saying it's becoming easier and I
                                                                ­                           mean that
                                                            ­                               I hate to admit this
                                                            ­                               but
                                                             ­                              there are moments ( most inconvenient)
                                                   ­                                        when you arrive to haunt me

nonetheless
simple peace
I like it.

                             I hope you have found it too
                             then again
                             you were already
                             well on your way

I wonder if I
can build a wall
so tall it becomes
a well and people
who pass will throw their
pennies with scraped chunks
of wishes onto my head
like copper rain and no one
will find me because they only search
the ground level never
below, deep inside this tower,
my castle, and if one day
they give up I can kick out
some stones and they will all
give way to the spaces and
bury me forever in all the fears
I hide from, heavy heavy heavy
under my tall stone well.

you don't ever notice a piece                               each passing day





                                                               missing

opportunities
                           can snap
                              at the end of
          the show
  all their promise
                     full of heart ache and fear


dreamed of
          glimmering

the cost
                  will
be covered in white carpet

It was soft at first
the sound of cotton, pulled
across cedar floor. Sacred.
Fragile words we whisper
mostly so we no longer have the
burden of sheltering them ourselves.
It was, the petals of parsley--
just before the setting of summer
dips below the horizon. A breeze
will send them away.
For the time being.


It grew louder.
I knew not how long it had been increasing.
No longer careful, no longer respectful
of the night. It ached. In suspense it gazed--
through the screens in our speech
through the bend of our knuckles
through the curve of our sight
It ached.
I knew not how long it had been increasing.
Only that I had been there all the while


Over time
the paint on the walls remained
gently the clock was reminded of the hour
drops sizzled and slipped through
hairlines in humidity
the bed frame celebrated 2 decades
Not once did the door open in surprise
Over time, it was like it didn't exist at all.


At last
the age of guessing was at a close
cool tiles against the jaw. low. heavy in
the steamed aftermath of dawn. Forgiving.
The release of tape from the roll--keeping it all together
A hiss from the nose, crunched by the swift turn on the heels. Endless.
Reckless. Reverberating around the space of your lawn, bending
the blades, breaking the stems of weeds.
At last.
It had nothing to do with listening close enough
and everything to do with experiencing it.

Beloved
the stretch of my lungs
in and out
beats my metronome

found myself at the window
let my elbow
rest

I let the sun
hold me today
and I prayed
I would see you
and we could be one
no confusion

i belong
to you
and the gentle brush
of memory on my eyelashes
bring the corners of my mouth
to rise
and the water of my eyes
to fall

Lovely
I let the sun hold me today
I closed my eyes
and you were there
instead