I have love for you
Rooted in my jawbone

Your secret perfume
Convection heat in a back seat

I want your thin fingers
Tangled in the web of my ribs

I want to lose you
In the honeycombed purple layers of my heart tissue

I will cradle your head on my sternum
Letting my lungs do the work

If only
Your elbows were not so sharp

Then I would crave the dig of your fingernails
Your pastures of hair
The butterfly tremble of your lips

Speechless- words no longer hold the weight
My tongue on the novel curves of your sigh
Tasting the twenty summers of your growth

Trembling due to lack of oxygen
Trembling at the onset of lust

The kneading want of knuckle bones
Drawing me ever closer to the colors of light

Static in the stereo of the
Cerebral cortex

Bunched nerves
Shocked into submission
By your bleached bone canines


Open and breathe
The quick pinch endocrine valves
Releasing steam


Drape me with your skin
Wrap me up in your pulsing warm veins

I bleed blue
On every day of the week

I am deafened
By the rage of your heartbeat

I am stricken dumb
The symphony of your eyelids
Swelling in my chest a familiar lust

The wind from your eyelashes
Could blow us out of this winter
And right into spring

All the days of the year
I bleed blue

The dedication of your palm
On my cheek
Warms me like a leaf in sunlight

Peel me layer from layer
You will find no lies in between the pages

I am your machine
Waiting to be properly lubricated
I cannot wait for our first day under the sun
I can't wait to get you out of the fluorescent lights
Of the Assembly line
We will journey together to forgotten realms
And sleep beneath the strange constellations

42 since I started to breathe rotting leaves under a November blizzard.
34 since I entered this body that day on the porch.
32 since I understood violence to be an accepted
part of life.

So many years I have carried this burden and I am tired, so tired.

So many sad Novembers.

But it's April now and 29 since I tasted a woman's mouth. 26 since I discovered how it felt to be inside another human, while completely inside myself.

It's April now and I crave the pale round goblets of milky skin these young flowers offer.
New rituals indeed smolder as centuries unfold.

It's only been 12 since I knew I was part of God
and 7 since I started hating us for being so close.

It was last March since I lost faith in you and I haven't stopped breathing shadows.
I am so tired, dearest.
What must I do?
It's April now, the walnut tree is black against the streetlight; the sycamores line the empty boulevard and I can smell the ghosts in the park.

These milky skies and milky thighs burn in
my skull.  January has lost her way
again as everyone forgets about the poets.
It's the poets that get them through a grey December.
We all share the same air, we all breathe
each other.
There is a lone willow tree, in the cradle of the park, bearing your divine name, which can be heard whispered by the ghosts who wander
on this lonely reservoir.

I am pining for dried tea bags and empty dresses as long summer nights bring insects and revelations.
I am your stone gargoyle.

,

The sun is slowly sinking
a wreck on the ocean
trapped in its inevitable destitution.
Steaks of endless goodbyes
loomed over people's shoulders.

While atop the mountain
the streaks of glittering hope
eradicated the darkness
hovering round the wreck
annihilating annihilation.

Between them lay
various forms of forever
in the stretch of the ocean
in the interminable look in their eyes
as they stand on the edge
of the opposing precipice.

Their arms extended
under the same sky.

Shadows taste like unanswered crickets and last years leaves.
This question crawls in your skin
as you try to wring the answers out of *******.
There is no right or wrong
in the realm of exo-skeletons
so the crickets sing as
I part the earth and
come on your sacred soil.

I know what I am.

You are my sugar,
white and heaping.

There is only this.
There is only now.

You are here
and I am there
and I will choke on these
shadows the way you choke me
behind your lovely lashes.
Don’t die so soon,precious;
I have many flowers to
spread on your skin.

Twigs scraped your bare feet
as you crossed the forest
swarming in bleeding leaves and old scars
in full haste and restlessness.

The scratches on your elbow,
did you get them when you slid
the veins aside and forced your way
out of my mind,

to peer out my eyes?

I would contain it in a bottle
with dead leaves
to remind you
that some time in the past

we're breathing,
inhaling each other's gasps.
That before withering,
we have lived everything we could.

one heart doctor
said 'i love you'                      
                                               cut it just right