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

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 went down to the river,
I set down on the bank.
I tried to think but couldn't,
So I jumped in and sank.”
― Langston Hughes*



We've all seen you lament, at some point.
The last was with your revised Florida Orange Juice, tiring
your right hand, knocking the empty bottle against each joint.
Muddled in slow jams the knees in your strict jeans leaned  into the motion,
helplessly receding feebly proceeding possibly misleading-
drip drip dripping through the deck you drowned, and I was left to sway in your arid ocean.
There are pieces of camera equipment buried into overflowing sock drawers,
to remind the lovers that your still here, and the others that you don't care
They were sold to the men on Main- doesn't matter if they are yours
I promised to keep your head above water-corrected each struggle, each flail
soaked whispered confessions, panicked treading legs, desperate flooded eyes
I watched you wade into the water, and I knew I would fail

Her fingers were covered in corn.
the corn after chewing, broken
pierced, churned- it could spread as butter
thick on stale toast, if needed
"it's fine, don't you worry, we'll get you all cleaned up"
she stared indifferently

Strings dangled from her mouth, unswept
full of necessary greens ---"mhm there there, this will give
you so much energy" --- drags of breath,
half inhale half choke. nothing to look forward to,
not the next soaking glob, not the cursing woman
in the bathroom, not the spill of light to her eyes

Where are the ladles, Did you check on it? The key? Just moved, most the suitcases aren't there yet. Remember to bring the Did you check on it? pay attention. Have you seen my grand kids?
who are you?

Sunday's are for the active ones
The games down the hall are  too far. Why worry with legs, if she could just adjust to the left
the world could sag into an ongoing dream- No demands, no games, no movement.

The nurses hair net had more presence than the splotch of gray against her peeling itchy scalp. Drool leaked from leather lips, dampening the collar of her two month sticky blouse.  Arms curled and locked,displaying under the wax skin cranberry patches-
she never wiped them off. Always the soft murmer of
a snore, always the smell of unbrushed teeth and hampers.

"Did you touch those where don't touch me scott scott scott leave my things alone thevenin I need a stop lying I want to go scott, scott? scott.     I            can't              remember                       any"

I said my name four times before she heard me, knew me
I fixed her pillow and my sister marked off the day on the calendar.
We told her about school, the marching band, each word
filled with forced enthusiasm. She bobbed  her head in circles, lazily
rolling her eyes, the curtain shading the empty space. We spent 30 minutes precisely.

She was more than I realized.
I never knew she had horseback riding, violin playing days. She traveled and  hiked. We could have been close. Unraveling with the mystery, I felt the lateness of my curiosity.
It was 30 minutes precisely, always.

We acted as strangers, reciting routine and wishing each other a happy day and a quiet love you

What is it that makesmefeel alive
                                                      Could­ it be the way you touch my face
                                                            ­                          sometimes
                             ­                                                      in sweet hesitation
                                                      ­          or
                                                    ­                               embarrassed confusion
                                                       ­         or
                                                     ­                            I actually don't know most of the time

The ground invites me everywhere, makesmefeel endless. But only if my heels sink into the soggy paths
                                                           ­  Unlimited in any direction
                                                  →   ↑    ↓    ←               the only requirement is to ask [where]....

Icanfeel myself merging
into the planes above, drawn to the only man in the sky strong enough for the extra weight
I haven't prepared at all, for what might happen
if it rained
and my grip slipped (along with GODs tears)
returning to the place I thought I flew away from
                                           "flew"
right on ↑ with the smoke from your ears, the last exhale of Tink's fairy dust
no one imagined lighting it on fire and sending only their minds, NeverNever to Land again

>>>>>
Hair mademefeel like a doll
          MADE OF ROCKS AND BLOCKS AND HARD PLACES
       .........remember? dolls are breakable and I don't like glass so I found tough stuff
      // But hair //
I could swing it all day and create sound waves → Always wondered if anyone heard the same tune. I cut it, the pitch was too flat and now its High and Mighty
                    
                           I promised the part that [makesmefeel]
that     s   l   o   w     is the way to go
                                                              ­                                                              so I drove on the right side
                                                            ­                                   looked both ways and would you believe it!
                            I crashed
                            but just my car
and the ♥'s of my life said things can be replaced and $$$ isn't everything
so I smiled and sprinkled more dust and let the hurt of guilt strip down to its naked truth
I'll keep trying to make sure my heart
doesn't stop and we can all
carry on

for see, while sometimes
what  [makesmefeel] can get confused,
it's happy
                                                           ­        ---loaded with images and dinners for two and promises
                                                        ­             my friends make to each other and a glamorous glowing
most of all its nervous about the long run
I've never ventured without shoes
and it's all so rocky-not like the yachts on a bad day
but the way rapids plan their jogging trials

and all the sights all the sounds
all the finger ****** and cotton
the cheats and final laps
ribbons and red pens
all the gentle brushstrokes and chafing
                                                                ­               that's what   makesmefeel    alive

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.

As I fall
little cannon bursts
of cut ribbon
yellow green blue
I will rain
on your parade
but the good kind
if there is such a thing
and maybe ill land
in your hands
on your shoulder
in your hair
and I'll get to be with you
even though I'm not
there
just pretend I'm the confetti
in the air
the drink in your veins
the pillow by your shoe
the couch you passed out on
it's whatever one you choose
just as long as you pretend
in some way
too


hmm....immediate sequel

actually you know what
don't pretend anything
don't say a single lie
don't utter a  false sentence
mean everything

next time, count me in
and we can watch the confetti
together

I should....
no, can't
       can't     can't
won't.
refuse actually. do I like hurting? is there a reason I don't just
move       on
normally when goodbye is said, twice, it means you leave
as in put one foot out into space and
pull
     down
see what happens, see what passes. well, I really wasn't ever normal
knew that from the start
but this?
I'm on an edge. this thinned pathetic rim
that looks to me a bit
u
  n
     sta b l e
clearly
                        [not clearly]
there is a problem
or something broken
I'm dealing with it, but let's be honest
sometimes it feels like I'm
meshing with it
blendingintothisbigmess
that's so hard [for me only] to separate
forgot about that- have to be more specific
[for me only] is this still more than a bad taste in my mouth
[for me only] it stripped me of common sense
[for me only] I can't sleep at night
All I want to do is
         be free
free to either walk through a day and not think your name
name   name
       name               name name
or free to fall into your arms at the end of the day
every day
whatever
I know I talk to a wall
                                      wall
and I'm here              wall           and you're there
                                       wall
                                       wall
and I swear I'm putting all I have into
[insert "letting go" here]
but instead-
trying to understand why I can't
leave you behind

now i'll try
but only because you
asked so nicely

oh, you again
thought you left
something about a brick
and how you understood
it's meaning
watched you go, well more like
watched your shape get smaller as I looked over my shoulder
I get it mixed up sometimes
whoops
for a second there I thought we were friends
sort of
I think maybe I talk too much, or is it want too much....
I'll cut it back to 2 attempts - is that better?
trying to respect the line, you know, that fine line
quiet, lots and lots of quiet
no don't worry about it, i'm used to it now
actually starting to like it
gives me a lot of time to reflect and
think
think think think think think
thanks. couldn't ask for a better way to
pass the time

hate hating
but for you?
I promise I'll try
                                                    


                                                      liar

we resemble
pen and paper

You help me and
I help you

now we have a chance to
write a story together
a new adventure

let's make it full of happiness

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

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

I'm a great actor
really.
I deserve a reward
or recognition
of some sort

See these eyes?
I can give such expression
my penetrating stare
will captivate you
I won't even blink
watch

Look at my lips
red as the roses
you throw at my feet
A perfect grin, I know
I'm sure you wonder how
my cheeks don't burn
with a smile like mine

Feel my hand
well, almost
I know it's like you nearly can
when I reach out
into the audience
smooth as wood

Did you like it?
Naturally
always such grand applause
I never miss a bow
never too low
you mustn't see
when I bend look at my dress, my shoes
the curl of my hair

never see past the
velvet curtains

you're not supposed to discover

the strings

and the way I become lifeless in the dark

It's a guaranteed good show. Spend a magnificent evening out
flooded with the
golden glow of the stage

promise you wont know

always such grand applause

you don't ever notice a piece                               each passing day





                                                               missing

I want to memorize the way you
didn't show up

Beginning to understand the silence will mend this lost soul

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~

we can watch the waiter clean the dripping puddle of spilled chocolate milk and see how he looks at me disapproving my clumsy hands kinda wishing I never stepped foot in the restaurant and later we should try swimming but not in a pool not in a pond but a great lake (with jellyfish that don't sting) and the ripples will flatten out mimicking the puddle of chocolate milk against the white towel and deep into the night we can imagine the number of glowing bulbs and blades of grass never ending just like the moment just like the day just like the way your hand moves over my arm gliding smooth smooth and flowing glassy without interruption highlighting the way a group of words can manage to escape punctuation leaving behind the choppy tension only dancing on and on to a place that can't be ended with a simple spot of ink directly below the last letter**.

you don't understand at all do you
not truly
you think
I'm a liar
that I still hold the knife
that
stabbed you in the back
[and in the heart]

kinda speechless
that you feel that way
think that way
believe it
untrustworthy? misleading?
false emotions?
can you not read?
here let me try again
maybe I can make it like braille
feel the words

it's like when the clouds stormy eyes
welled up and let fall the
tears of weekend rain
soggy, we laughed along with the thunder
and under our waterfall we let the windows
fog
tell me I lied then

or picture if you will
standing by the tree I
always parked by
it was a starry night, but we didn't see it
we were too focused on our faces
except
why is it I was the only one
drowning in the sadness that overtook my eyes
shaking with each strained, choppy breath
clutching that gray shirt like a life jacket
do you think that was all
for show?

haven't you looked at
my collection of black and white
silly letters scribbled down as fast as possible
trying as hard as I can
to leave it all
on the paper
but it's as if each word I write
is a tattoo
slowly invading every part of my skin
it's sinking in, it's staining everything
do you think this agony I speak of
is fake?

if so
if I am that liar with the knife who
led you astray and "******* you over"
let you down, kicked you around
if you can't seem to
open your eyes
and notice
just how much I love you
just how much I always have

then you don't deserve it

ill run miles for you when I know I only
have the strength for one
but don't you
dare
watch me run
if you don't even grasp
that I stabbed myself in the back
led myself astray

you have a right to
hate the wound
but if you can't see
what I feel
one day
I will learn
that I have to let go
and I will

then all these silly letters
all for you

well. go ahead and throw them away
on that day
they will carry no life
anymore

Filled out a prescription
symptoms include
chance of heart failure

My nose scrunched
                                                                ­     unsure of why my
                                                              ­       monkey bars mother slapped  
                                                       ­                        my curious nails
                                                           ­                                                                 ­         away
                                                            ­                   but I wanted,
                                                                ­                       but  just, I want
                                                            ­            to see what it looks like
                                                            ­     underneath the deep red patches
                                                         ­        it hurt when I saw the
                        ___________gro­und___________

                         ­                                       and
                                                                ­      not
                                                                ­          the
                                                   ­                            slippery
                                                        ­                                  yellow
                        ­                                                                 ­            slide
                   hitting the mulch wasn't ever
                   part of the flight instructions, those were
                   written by the kid who never stops
                                                           ­                             p   la y   i   ng  ----------          t   a g  

                               catch me but you won't know what to do once
                                                            ­    I'm   It

I'll be sent to the bench for my carelessness
reckless                                  of my attention
                   abandonment

then my nose will scrunch
when the centimeters of her ruler straight hand
slap away persistence
                                                                ­                                                     but but, just, I wanted
                                                                ­                                                                 ­     just wanted to

                                                             ­                                                            peek underneath

                                                                ­                                        at all the soft loveliness
                                                      ­                            the fresh renewal  
                      of skin that has never seen a bad day

give me your cure
and the top shelf blue velvet
its mine
and I'm not well

I know the feel
of bikes
balance ; focus
I notice I ride
in circles

I hide in sweet sonnets
a toothache for charm
a rush behind my eyes
raw sugar

penpal promises
sealed late in the night
I told God He could have me
if He paid for the stamps

hands crossed my eyes
in a desperate attempt
to keep me away
from the truth

I never peaked
not to stare not to know
I'd rather walk the line
blind

Inside
ah
there you are
little glimmer
of hope

I'm here now
to help you
grow
stronger and brighter
each day

A Being
has loud words
they surround
drown out those
fears

Finally
my heart is
coming back
to home roots
I am  finding
the glue
piece by piece
I fill in the puzzle

Oh sweet
sweet smile
you fit just right
welcome back
stay awhile!

I know you will

Magnificent
I feel the sun
and instead of
yearning for more
I take you as you are
great warmth
and walk on

I am
me
I am
just beginning

this is what
I get
for saying
I love 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

It was a stormy evening
Yet contentment hung in the air
Thick as the humidity
We ran, eluding unsuccessfully the
little droplets that cascaded like
the brilliant fingers of a pianist
gushing chords across our shoulders that
captivated.
It was rhythmic, a delicate patter
though simultaneously
It rang out with the passion of a cello’s crying depth
the lust of a singer’s feverish lucidity
the force of a dancers anguished turns.
the mighty heavens roared on above us so loud dear but
the need to return home overtook us and
the world was only your hair as it curled around your ear and
only the smell of rain on your skin and the heat of your breath.
You astound me.
All I crave is to whisper words with my trembling breath of how
I feel in your arms- a true peace. like no one could ever comprehend
The way I have let myself
Melt and reform as
All yours.
I reach to run my hand across your cheek
So soft darling, so close
I reach and I know I could never feel as
Complete. Comfortable.
Then I see it.
The white ceiling, the piece of tape left over, the stray black smudge
Ah, dreaming.
But for an instant I got to know
what it felt like, in the rain.
So, My love. My unwavering best friend
I'll set my feet on the ground and
let the sheets muffle that faint sound of
a piano
For the day will wipe away the details
And the only thing I will retain
is a curious inquiry for why my heart skips a beat
in bad weather

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

like a pen drop in a canyon
insignificant.
silently it fell
yet it crashed like
a 1000 symbols.
resonating
into a mess, yes that
ill have to clean
later.

really?
you've changed?
like a leaf in autumn, which had such color
than fades to brown? i hope not.
sometimes i think you fell
out of color
out of time
out of my grasp

i love fall
smell of life
smell of death
but only nature
right?
is my soul
a dead leaf? to be remembered only
by the crunch under your
military boots

i hate fall
smell of life
smell of death
i lost my footing
now i'm that breeze
and still,
still
i'm not allowed to caress your cheek
in a touch taken from me
by me
all my choices
that's ok
ill just float away

way way high
higher
further
WAIT
don't go too far
you'll pass me
or miss me
its bright up here, squinting helps

ill look for you too
if
you even look at all

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

It must be the silence.
riddles on the other line-
rise of breath, slow muted sighs
raw red ripples
what are your rhythms
to me

I whispered for bravery into swollen knots of a weeping willow
sweeping scarred strength rough on my pulse
revealing to the roots my daily face to face with
not knowing
and the belief that I can wait

as a coo soothes a napping field
rocking, deep in care free slumber-  
I feel you too
will someday brush across my cheek, careful
sending troubles with a hush
quiet as the day shy's it's gaze to the night

There will always be a pause
escalating expectations, suspended seconds
when the door heaves closed
and I'm tugged into innocence
clutching the air for a blankie, holding close
the possibility everything will be alright

I keep a wilting daisy on the floor beside my bed
dampened by the shadows, colored by my eyes
it will dry completely, defeated on the carpet
yet there will be more
and I will always fill the vase with water

sometimes life's a little funny
and we just never know
after the morning wakes and yawns
what events the day will throw

In fact, it doesnt matter if
the sky is gray or blue
when you step back and think
the choice is up to you

I really like to smile
I really hate bad news
but  somtimes life's a little funny
and we end up with a bruise

though, remember those clouds
you thought to be quite mean
there's always rays of sunshine
you could have never seen

yes, things will happen
and we lose our will to try
yes, sometimes life's a little funny
and it makes us want to cry

but that's why nearby
there's always a hand
to reach out and help with
beginning to stand

we feel up, we feel down
scared there's no place to land
but sometimes life's a little funny
and we start to understand

that
everything will be ok
and some things
never end

oh no, the burning of
the throat for which the great horn bellowed
years and years of
imagination twitch- twitch- twitching
to reach the heart maybe reach
the gun of thirsting hot
treated misused hot twisted--
but at last
s
  t
    r
      e
         a
             m
                    s s s s s
they know even when
you are drowning you are still
soothed and it hurts and it is pure
so just relax
              relax
              relax
so many smooth
streams

There are orca whales in my ears
but only when it rains
ill swallow the gnats to feed
the bellies and the growing fears
I never know how to greet it

I took the nail filer and carved
two perfect holes directly above my big toes
you can never be too careful
I wanted to make sure my feet knew that sometimes
things happen

I promised my umbrella that if
it could wait another couple weeks
I wouldn't rip it to shreds myself
why is there patience for quitters and
people who hate thunderstorms?

There are orca whales in my ears
but only when it rains
Gave into the cooped clouds,
let them smear cleaner through my roots
swaying instead to dodge the drip
and heaving sighs

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 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.

getting stuck
restless in the dust
stirred by soft touches, hard to handle
flurries of hesitant spontaneity-
take flight in the heated tango of 6:17 p.m.
will the billows settle among the fabric
or will it settle for nothing, yearning for fresh winds
floating endless on breathy quotes
wisdom of ancient used shirt sleeves
I believe I have a chance
to choose

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

Tempter, I grow impatient. My need for closeness is a run over rocky terrain. I yearn for my legs to stop moving, my muscles to stop aching, my breath to find my body. It only moves in slow creeping motions, an eclipse on my reality, a blindfold to my control. My darling I do not exist alone. Alone I am fever- a raging plague of disease. My burnt parts float away as ash to the graveyard- to bury all they are. Love, I walk in my bones. Stripped of my true being I rattle and moan, a skeleton resurrected. Soon my feet my crumble away, and I will snap apart limb by limb and fall to the ground as sharp pointy bits. Then what am I, my dear? Do I get pushed into the earth and remain nothing more than diminished pearls to the naked eye, or will a creature carry me away with their talons? Tempter you defeat me. Only when I leave the battlefield and return home do I realize I pulled the trigger. I thought I would run from the war and save myself. When truly, I fired the shot heard around the world.

written 2010