What is the space between,
enclosing us in one
united person, yet
dividing each alone.

Frail bridges cross from eye
to eye, from flesh to flesh,
from word to word: the net
is gapped at every mesh,

and this each human knows:
however close our touch
or intimate our speech,
silences, spaces reach
most deep, and will not close.

your first pleasures were touch, taste and the arms that held you so dear
when the school bell rang for the first time, you felt fear
then you calmed at the sound of her sweet voice
you learned security

from the first gold star and smiley face
you knew you had promise
and with loving guidance you continued to flourish
you abided
you listened
 
your artwork told a feeling, it was scary,
but it drew people to you
Oh how they marveled!
you felt pleased and accomplished
 
what great fun you had joining the band
even earning solo perfomances
you were shy but you did it
 
your first love stroked your perfect hair
you were accepted
 
the sound of the wheels
and the feel of the board beneath your feet
brought a thrill
your scarring brought valor
 
a bounty of achievements
in such a short span of time
you were respected by so many
you felt you accomplished
you had the freedom to be whom-ever
without the pressure of a significant price
 

what happened?
 
was it that hard?
 
you knew what worked
 
was it your shyness or those who attracted you?
 
oh, the chemicals took hold and embraced you!
the temporary feeling of greatness that took hold of you
with no fear, accomplishment, promise, valor
it was done in one night with a pill
 
your arrogance has taken hold
you refuse to abide and listen,
did you ever think those who surround you,
feel so small that they see no way out other than a pill?
 
why do you think it’s always you?
 
what will you become if you cannot experience gain or loss? 
that’s what molded you
 
if you only knew, this substance is nothing
it has no feeling,
destroys reputations
depletes your soul
and ages you beyond recognition
 
the life of promise
and freedom you once had
is fleeting
but my dear,
it is never too late to recapture it

In this obscene photograph secretly sold
the policeman mustn't see) around the corner,
in this whorish photograph,
how did such a dream-like face
make its way; How did you get in here?

Who knows what a degrading, ****** life you lead;
how horrible the surroundings must have been
when you posed to have the picture taken;
what a cheap soul you must have.
But in spite of all this, and even more, you remain for me
the dream-like face, the figure
shaped for and dedicated to Hellenic love-
that's how you remain for me
and how my poetry speaks of you.

She makes the sand,
the sand seep away.
Little locket on her chest,
with her steps a gentle sway.
Though her eyes cast
a tender gaze,
her fiery heart sets the sky ablaze.

Dry rain and dry puddles,
never will she stop.
'Til she stumbles to her knees,
the dusty ground, fiercely hot.
She cries out in pain
and laughs through tears,
a withered smile
of withered years.

She sees me.

Her faces relaxes,
her lungs give out,
her limbs betray her
and with one final strain she says:
*I can't hate.

when i was younger
and thought myself clever
i mused that the owl,
in all her purported wisdom,
was asking the wrong question.

if one is to stay up all night ruminating,
shouldn’t her mantra be a bemused and heartfelt “why?”


now i am older.
and the questions leave me wanting.

except for maybe “who?”

(and perhaps “what?”
because there is something to be said
for caramel mochas
and shades of apple green
and endearing little love poems.)


but these days it’s mostly “who?”

Lungs filled up
with
questions questions questions.
Like in the pool as a child,
How long can you hold your breath?

Held under,
Burning pushing screaming
You've got to hold your breath.

The fraction left not choked out
by the uncertainties of the future
is weak, fatigued, and plagued by
doubt.

Minuscule trivialities become juggernauts
crushing the remains of structure.

When will I reach the surface?
What do I have left?
When can I breathe again?