I

To-night, a first movement, a pulse,
As if the rain in bogland gathered head
To slip and flood: a bog-burst,
A **** breaking open the ferny bed.
Your back is a firm line of eastern coast
And arms and legs are thrown
Beyond your gradual hills. I caress
The heaving province where our past has grown.
I am the tall kingdom over your shoulder
That you would neither cajole nor ignore.
Conquest is a lie. I grow older
Conceding your half-independent shore
Within whose borders now my legacy
Culminates inexorably.

II

And I am still imperially
Male, leaving you with pain,
The rending process in the colony,
The battering ram, the boom burst from within.
The act sprouted an obsinate fifth column
Whose stance is growing unilateral.
His heart beneath your heart is a wardrum
Mustering force. His parasitical
And ignorant little fists already
Beat at your borders and I know they're cocked
At me across the water. No treaty
I foresee will salve completely your tracked
And stretchmarked body, the big pain
That leaves you raw, like opened ground, again

At twilight in the cave the bats gracefully emerge; sacrificing their lives to fly and play in the wind. Sweeping in diagonally perched on wooden posts the owls watch and wait for their prey. I marvel at gods game and sit in silence. karma pulls up and pulls out her self-division at the scene. I am magnetically drawn towards a single owl poised on a tree. I whisper to the creature, speak to me. The owl sings: puchu puchu! I sing back the crazy tune. The owl spots my red jacket nestled on my body and teaches me the blues. I come back a rainbow grounded on the green encased in a purple hue.

There’s a street that I drive on daily
I’ve driven on it since I was a kid
When it rains the gap gets flooded
and a slice of Oregon seems to seep in
at the top of the ***** there’s a cross
For those that could not wait,
a life is now lost and the spirit dwells
where the nocturnal God creeps from fence to fence

There’s a street that I drive on daily
I’ve driven on it since i was a kid
Children hike it in search of school with no parent in sight yet-
The plight of a wingless bird would be worthless without,
A drowning fish
Mislead youth graffiti the signs marking their grounds like a dog
A ****** infection
A dimensional problem three generations passed
No cure no amount of affection

There’s a street that I drove on daily
I have driven on it since I was a kid
The fog is thickest down the *****
And the crow gazes down the passerby’s soul
To understand it, you would have to be insane
for the man is not crazy until he seems deranged
Fine malt liquor 40s, the fuel for the hood
becomes a constant struggle and the rock is now a feud

there is a street that I drive through daily
I’ve driven on it since I was a kid
One day I will use it to leave and heave this troubled past
but for now I return and speed through it-
in this labyrinth lies a monster—one you cannot see
It reaches in your pockets and forces you to bleed.
Grab another and one more! it feels good. while. it. lasts

For there’s a street that I drive daily
I’ve driven on it since I was a kid…

A month.

That's all it took.


To turn these once
delicate hands into
calloused, mangled,
limbs.

Overworked and exhausted.

But when you flew in to stay the night
these calloused, mangled, limbs couldn't help
but

want nothing more than to touch your
smooth,

scarred,

velvety

soft,

skin.

Like toffee, it is.
The color of mocha or lightly tanned leather.

They knew,
oh they knew...

That from every touch they took

They would slowly regain their delicateness again

That delicateness they so miss...

when sixteen shows up
late night drives occur,
drinking is talked of and then put into action,
*** is all talk and takes courage to say no to,
friends turn to best friends while
a best friend turns into a stranger.
you learn that love is foreign
and that you don’t know it all,
but you still pretend to.
You go behind your parents back,
tell a few (or hundred) lies,
and try to remember who that shy girl
was before she undressed that night.