in the middle of everything you are to me
you are a tight grip I’ll never have
a fist clenched
on a weak arm
my foreign  hand, always ready to turn over
to goodbye

someone told me live dangerously
and so I smoked cigarettes,
you and I
by the ocean in foggy aches
and I got on the back of your bike

so I edged in and out of your bed
at starlight’s hours
a sink full of your sadness
because I didn’t want you to feel alone

so I thought of being a tree
and if you needed me, you could have my leaves
and my branches and if you were tired
I'd be a stump you could sit on

but because of that whisper dusk in the sand by your sister’s house
when you told me you and I told you me
and the air gleamed in a reflection
I opened my eyes and there was you
placed carefully in front of me

and with both sides of the edge visible,
ephemeral graces gave me their secret

and when you asked me to kiss you,
one thousand voices of providence,
silver threaded stitches
sank my soul to touch on you

bruised by the impact of a human being

and it was nothing to you
but it mattered to me

i miss your lips
the way they'd smoothly dance
like a genie in a lamp
as you'd sing
and speak

how sweet your memory tastes
though the reality has long since faded

i cling to my effervescent exaggerations of our tangled past
replaying time to time
on the dream-screen of my mind
as i snack lightly on the salty remarks of my youth
and i laugh

it hurts
but it feels so healthy

you fade through the moon-mist
and dismiss your own existence
once again proclaiming that you are nothing
but an extension of it all
a fingerprint of the wilky-way
just a strand of DNA
swimming through the wake of infinite expansion

i miss it

the beer-breath incantions you'd softly slur after dark
the kisses you'd plant along my edges
like the vines that trace the hedges
in the front lawn of that dusty place we'd fake our love

nostalgia always begins so inviting
untill you're finally feeling sea-sick
from the over-ingestion of false sweets
and pure imagination

now we're so far gone
living in a different reality entirely
i don't think i'd even know your face if i saw it
i know you only by the way your shape fits in the frame
another handsome man
trapped forever in the reels of film of my mind

but i'll remember you
you're woven into the wood works
    
     drunkenly dancing through a serendipitous sea of names
     stands the lamen's term for your current shape
your birth-given name
credited with a handfull of scars
left behind by a man who forced me to grow

I promise you,
this chest cracks
from the force of my gasp
scrabbling every ounce of
frigid mist I can
warming it with time,
face turned black from pressure.

wait for the release, darling.

it may not thaw
the distance between poles
but I can whistle something sweet
just like you taught me
when the summer was a running river
and our hearts
were not these
frostbitten bird wings
strung out across the dunes

I burnt my harmonica
in the coals you left me
it could not play the blues

we are grey
with nothing between the static
a monochromatic flicker
on long-dead television sets
shattered-glass hope breath
sputtered out in the slip-shape of smoke

my wrists are broken
from digging you out of yourself
so

let’s take a minute to mourn.

let’s see if I can hold the soft silence
on my sharpened shoulders
and keep it from breaking

bring out your paints.
show me how the only thing I couldn't see
was your brushstroke
your choke-face
your pathways
your patched-up heart strings
those holy rolling white things,

I would give my backbone
for another look at your insides.

this cup of tea
is dedicated to her butterfly wrists
opened chrysalises
3 hours before the dawn
would have found her
spread-winged, imitating lotus.

A family man, running spandexed and puffing
reaches into the stroller at the crest of the hill
as the day sighs away the last of its dusk
hands a three year old a flashlight
and makes her a secret-wink promise.
You'll move so quickly on your path,
it's your duty to carry a light with you
to keep you and others safe.

A stern man and a hot scratchy washcloth
removing a Spice Girls bubblegum tattoo from
the nose of a seven year old, molecule by molecule.
As soon as you get caught up in superficiality,
that's when you'll make mistakes. Don't make
mistakes that will last.

A medic man returns from a surgery
from a rural village with more kindness than money.
Lays a basket of apples and a banana loaf on the table
in lieu of a cheque and says:
There will be opportunities in your life for
your actions to define the kind of person you are-
always take them-

and never forget your common humanity.

An animal man bursts into the room
with a puppy as new as a sparrow
gamboling, loving, seeking faces and laps.
When choosing your first dog, look for
one that has more loyalty than shrewdness.
Choose your friends that way, too.

A tired man breathes deeply instead of shouting
at the quivering teen and the confession of the bumper
and the scratch that shouldn't have happened.
Hurt softly with the truth.... but never with lies.

A romantic man recounts his history
raising his eyebrows at the score of his frolics
and makes me swear to fall madly in like
with every soul who my heart should kiss-
but Love, reserve Love as the most sacred
of words, deeds, beings. When you Love,
you and he shall become one another,
and be one life.

A sentimental man wears a silver crown
at the head of his dinner table meditating in
silence after the laughs and mayhem of his
family clan have subsided to the fireplace.

He looks at his daughter.
She looks at her father.

The fullness of her adult face
and Polish eyes reflect in his irises
blue inside blue inside blue inside blue-
making any separation between them
redundant, intangible, like-
mirrors facing mirrors-
as the roots of the
Tree run as deep as soul itself
and he murmurs:

*The day you hear the cry of your firstborn child
is the day you discover the meaning of your life-

and nothing will ever, ever be the same.

Afternoon-light in our periphery
our cerebellums glowing happy like...
maybe a plate of cheesecake, and two bent forks
the atoms that separate 'you' from 'me'
laughing within a jitterbug
but now there's no cake for us.

Why aren't you here?

afternoon-light in our periphery
and our cognitions like a strawberry swirl
Sweet, home-made, toujours innocente
and I scratch your brilliant head for
the secret to unconditional love
and your smile becomes lyrics,
the first line of a perfect song.

Shoulda come.

At the bottom of a teacup, we reveal
our secret selves, in a boy scout pact of friendship
spit-locking our hearts into a ferocious loyalty
to take care of each other in our parallel lives
and to cherish what we cannot see.  

Because I cannot see you,
and you cannot see me.

I forgive you, next time- it'sraininganyways
i'mnotmad, i just don'twant to revealhow
muchyou mean tome.

You shoulda come, friend.

wet fingers
touch my face
all nervous and
unbalanced.

perception
rips out of my throat
so fast that it's sore when morning breaks.
I feel the rising and almost shake
it's time for another eighteen hour day.

red teeth creep into my thoughts
and the bottle in the cabinet begins to knock:
here I am, baby, drink me if you can.
if you've got the time, try not to lose your motivation.
plans can't cure this hesitation.
perspiration from more than just nervousness, what's this?
it's the eyeballs teaching you a lesson,
it's the heartbeat just wanting to leave a mess in
what you thought you could contain
in the muddied cave you call a brain,
it's the endless pits of despair you so often hear tales of.
thinking, "Oh, you silly people, pet the belly of the beast
and you'll be free."

kissing the *** of an evil spirit will leave you with less progress
than if you washed the feet of an angel with your tears.  

insides burning with lust for flesh, for a cool comfort
you can bury yourself in. if your expectations grace you with
their absence and your mind feels free enough to explore,
then share your thoughts with me this evening,
I'll give you my heart as an open door.