horizon cracks--
              the storm heats one ear while
              putting on lip balm

Since our lives were complicated
By outside reason
Our house has been loud with voices
We pulled the bits out of our mouths
And now we will never put them back
And our house has never been quiet
And our house has never been neat
A scream has always followed a scream
Like the roll of waves and the sea is never still
But for the first time in years
I sit alone on the swept floor
Of a silent room
And the cold winter wind rushes through our house
Through windows flung open to let in more breathable air
But it makes me think only of my warm spot halfway up the stairs
That I was too afraid to go to when I heard the cold coming
Now a scream echoes without a scream
And my heat is lost to a room
With nothing to hold it

cancel your plans, darling -
we're feignin' tonight.

i ain't tasted your fancy brow
since i last ran up trees.

i know you miss
the way my tossing hair
always filled the air with
moonlit berries and
wild
wild
grapes,

so thick
your mouth
gave way to
tsunamis.

i've got cold noodles sittin'
in my bowl somewhere
because i forgot to remind myself that
that ain't food that's
fillin' my belly -

channelin' me your orange hues
dipped in frustrations so subtle,

but
not
subtle
enough.

your frisky hot hemp dance
is flingin' itself
all over my inside stuff -
curbin' my appetite
for just about
anything else.

i'll climb your tree anyday
sweet baby,
kissin' greens
in your sleeves
on that minxy leaf trip.

carry me to your sneaky cove
and share your spices
and wanton skin graces.

i'll trade you my
fingertips
and diamond
extravaganzas,
then we can take turns
dippin' our tongues
into the blend.

'cause
i've blotted out my agenda
to savour the splendour
so i can remember to
spit it back into
the faces of
the dark
cloaked ones.

this is my defiant-nosed
iron song,
in my steel-toed boots.

see, i'm feelin' mahself
and the randy white cub
ticklin' my sides
in our crazy cahoots,

with our incense and spirits
from the worshipers of
sane things -
who fill our airs
with a long overdue
white haze.

you had birds in your mouth and sunlight dripping from your eyelashes.
i promised i wouldn't speak if you wouldn't change faces twice an hour.
we made conversation under a tree and sleep-walked through your kitchen.
i couldn't stare for your poetry disguised as fingers, always moved your hands.

i opened your window and slid to the street, took a walk with the recycling.
my hands looked tired the next morning, and you wouldn't take no.
when the lights fell asleep, we ran for the boats and slipped into the water.
the moon smiled and pulled us apart, i never matched your shoes again.

Maybe it was weird that I didn’t move my hand

When it rested against yours

Or that I didn’t move my leg when our knees touched

Or that when we slept facing opposite directions

So we could share the same pillow

I pretended to be asleep when my lips touched your forehead

Just so we could be close a minute longer

I know I cry in my sleep

But you don’t have the same dreams I do

And you don’t have that awkward belief

That all people fit like puzzles if you press hard enough

What the hell do you think hugs are?

Or holding hands is?

I know I can’t accidentally fall into you

And sure

maybe it’s weird that I rub my socks into the carpet

With the sole purpose of shocking you

But how else do you make sparks fly?

I know that my life’s story is an open book I tell so well

My pages are shameless

And my words are honest

And yeah

I know I stare at your mouth when you speak

It’s just that

Eye contact freaks me out

And I’m sorry I spaced out while you were talking

It’s just that I was staring at your lips

And I suddenly wanted to kiss you

I know I have no filter

And am practiced in the art of bad timing

And poor explanations

But we’re only human

We only want simple things

Like to be needed by other humans

Go ahead

Need me like a parasite

I’ve already got so much excess baggage

The weight of your monkey on my back

Might as well be an anchor

Keeping me next to you

There should be dents in your memory foam by now

Pretty lady

There are dents in my cheeks from all the smiling you cause me

And I’m pretty sure you could light a match

From the heat in my face

So I am sorry if I can get a little creepy

It just means I like you

during my worst times
on the park benches
in the jails
or living with
******
I always had this certain
contentment-
I wouldn't call it
happiness-
it was more of an inner
balance
that settled for
whatever was occuring
and it helped in the
factories
and when relationships
went wrong
with the
girls.
it helped
through the
wars and the
hangovers
the backalley fights
the
hospitals.
to awaken in a cheap room
in a strange city and
pull up the shade-
this was the craziest kind of
contentment

and to walk across the floor
to an old dresser with a
cracked mirror-
see myself, ugly,
grinning at it all.
what matters most is
how well you
walk through the
fire.