Could man be drunk for ever
With liquor, love, or fights,
Lief should I rouse at morning
And lief lie down of nights.

But men at whiles are sober
And think by fits and starts,
And if they think, they fasten
Their hands upon their hearts.

Alone in his dark apartment
black dog asleep
the sound of children playing
in the street outside his window-
children of color, his housekeeper says,
not quite seeing the distinction
only hearing happy voices-
an old jazz number on the radio
as he stands and dances slowly
with his cane tap, tap, tapping
to the beat and dreaming of a girl
he once read about named Helen
in a book of braille.

r ~ 6/6/14

I'm in that mood
When I want a collar round my neck
Though I'll still be in control
Two bodies writhing, one bed.

I'm in that mood
When I shiver at my thoughts
And I prowl ever-restless
The house is freezing, I'm blazing hot.

I'm in that mood
When I'd beg for anything
And time is too slow
My eyes are open, I'm blind with need.

I'm in that mood
When shame is a foreign entity
And humiliation is impossible
Or perhaps exhilarating.

I'm in that mood
When I can't contain the desperation
And I'm far past coherent or sane
So very rushed yet patient.

I'm in that mood
Where I'd curse anyone who set me free
And my mind is an unending chant,
'Collar me, collar me.'

When I die, dear Mother
don't give my body away
to science.

I'd rather have it given away to poetry.

I want people to cut me open
and observe
how my bones were riddled with
melancholic verses of joyful pasts.

They have to see
the scarlet of my blood was the hue
I stole from the sunsets of
wishful thoughts.

Dear Mother,
give my body away
to the art of writing:
for they have to look past
everything they have ever learned.

They must know
of how much I loved and I lost,
and how that made the twine of my ribs
a story to tell.

They run and run and run
It seems, with little time to feel the sun
And yet, what they have begun
Is something that can easily be undone.

Dodging the trees here and there
They run through this thick and heavy air.
An end to this overgrown forest do they give silent prayer
But little do they know that they’re on the path to despair.

They hide from the sun’s bright
For they know not of its delight,
And instead they run to the darkness on the right
Thinking they will find some light.

However, their path is crooked and steep
As they run through the forest deep.
They are like lost sheep
Not realizing they need to awake from their sleep.

They see others running passed the trees
Dodging them with ease.
They wonder what makes the others so pleased
To be running through this breeze.

The others also fall down,
But they get back up and help those around.
While they run through darkness abound,
The others run through bright clearings round.

Why is it you?
Of all people to have the ability to ruin me
why is it you? Bryan?

You're awkward and too tall
on top unmitigated gall
you're plain rude.

So why do I want you?
Bryan?

In my mind there's a collection
of every time you've shown affection
and

The slightest inclination
only heightens my determination
to trip you.

I want you to fall hard
for me. Bryan.

With every facebooked text
it's been my only request
for the whole year.

Did you notice?
Bryan?

When the smallest appreciation
left my pupils dilated
it's so degrading

When my faith in you is fading
more praise is awaiting
I am stuck in this net.

What's so unfair
is that you're not even aware
of what you do to me.

If I told you, would you love me?
Bryan?

if you got a chance
to read my poems,
i wonder
will you ever know
that these poems
are written by
thinking of you???
will you ever say
these poems
are lovely???
for i know
these are lovely
as these are
written for you...