A body
three times
renewed

She laughed & told me
life's not fair
& if there's anything that I learned
in school that week,
it was that

sometimes, the dunes
are not caressed by the ocean waves,
not kissed goodnight
in laps of foamy seas in high tides.

Some nights, the darkness
of the atmosphere is not illuminated,
not awakened by nature's nightlight
O, how the stars ache!

Sometimes, green-painted men
are shipped across oceans
like little plastic toys
to **** people they've never met.

Is it wrong to miss you?

What if we both run
parrallel lines along
snowy walks--
legs stepping across
bleached streets like
soldiers in unison,
at the same time,
together;
but still,
still parallel.
I learned in elementary school
that we can never ever
touch.

Perhaps it is the phenomenon
of being constantly,
perfectly out of reach that
keeps me going in the mornings
when there is no glow,
& the comfort of living within
my alotted skin has vanished.

Perhaps it is the season,
these months of leaves
cascading,
that guides me,
gently,
down.

I will wake up Saturday morning
& take a deep breath,
for the world will
be here.

& if it isn't, you can tell me *I told you so.

post mirrors
everywhere so you
can be sure to see me out in


the open


in the closed   , at any angle
I am observed
      close in your eyes

     you see
I am   e       x   p     o  s    e  d
I have  no
secrets    my doors are

open &    what's to see but
complete & total emptiness?


sleep I'm falling it's
funny how we
fall into the mindless;
sleep ,    love .
we walk through doors    we run
on tracks ,    but we
     f
     a
     L
     l
        into the overwhelming pleasures
             of


vulnerability

God.

God is the shapes
on my ceiling.
He is the sliver of light
filtered through my window.

God is the thirty-inch space
between roof & fallen branch.
He is the kiss of dew drops
& the breeze on my neck.

God is the flame
of discipline.
He is the declaration
of saddened exile.

God is goosebumps
that proclaim "I hear you!"
He is the rise &
the fall of empires.

God is the sky
which engulfs all
in loving despair.

She fell in love with
the curtain he hung up
around himself;
with the gloss of
woven power.
She became deeply
infatuated with
the slippery silk
hunger of the facade,
obsessing over the
little lustful
beads.

& at that moment
I envied the samples
on the store counter
because they were
the ones that were
*free

Flowers on the wreath
of the funeral home door;
beautiful to none

There is a ****,
a toxic bit of cancer,
in the garden of my soul

It wraps around
my dreams--
a python of the greenery

Raspy hisses that
the real world doesn't
work that way,

You have to hide your heart
your love, your all
you don't want that pain, do you?

No, I don't, I don't want
that at all, I say,
so I put down my *****

& I am Eve,
banished from the garden
but I do not feel a thing.

You sent me
                                        fra
                                                           g
                                                    me                                  nt

After

f                               r    a           gm
                                 e                              

                                                             n
                                            t

of thoughts, wonders, bitter commentary,
shot like darts
in my direction,
& I caught every note
of your needs
& then you left,
& here I am,
left picking up
tiny paper airplanes

Take away my treasures
sexless connections
no touch no guilt
no lies to our parents
when they ask where we've been.
I want to scream how could
you? But I know exactly
how you could
God you say

& who could argue with that?
who could argue
with God?

I've made graphs,
charts & labels
I've taken tests,
quizzes, solved
equations with
functions & facts
& limits & rules
& statistics
I've put commas
where commas
go, I've used
all of the laws
of punctuation

But I still don't know why it is that I am *me.

What does it mean when
ear-charming, dressed up
collections of sound
what a nation wants to hear
does not match the honest
desperation, heart screams
it isn't that way
of pleading eyes?

The difference between
those old mustard stains
and Jackson *******.

The world will not stop
spinning for me,
not ever.
The birds will not be
mute for me,
not a chance.

The only thing that will
stop for me
is a heartbeat--
for I am too
small of an amazement
for the traffic,
the rain.

Though, I do not
expect the world to
cease in the moment of
my passing,
my mysterious disappearance.
(an empty body,
an empty shell).

Being a part of this
world means being
disposable.

Knowing you means that
I wish I could love you more,
perhaps differently.

Knowing you means that
I will finally know loss.

I will not cease to pause for you.

Below, blades are not
safe from snooping golden glares.
And at night, the moon.

If we are all just for our own sake,
what conclusion could we ever come to?
What are we then,
how--what makes us so great
that even our mere existance is
the explanation of our presence;
each some sort of unique gift to the universe?
I, you, we are each a bundle of cells,
hormones, arguably a soul,
but definitely atoms in space--
space, which is both infinitely large
& infinitely small.

Instead of right or wrong,
we are diminished to foolish little snowflakes,
all dumbly in our own way, "human."
"Art for art's sake," we are all
paintings on the mantle:
abstract & upside-down,
but nobody can tell the difference.

I lay face down on the sheets
                           on the pillow
                    t   ng
                      a    led in blankets

breathing in every last bit of euphoria
   injecting it into my bloodstream
watching the insides of my eyelids
             turn
ORANGE
                                                     ­                                          PINK
                                                BLUE

s     ­        l
  w      r      i      g           around
       i            n
                                           until I can once again
feel the heat of your fireplace
  again in my heart
                                                     between my thighs
because
               the scent of you in my bed
is the scent of granted wishes
                     of guilty seduction,
                 reasons why we never leave the porch.

It is the call into the wild

         that sends the beaten, driven out

dreams tip-toeing out from behind

        the trees, the dark bars of reality

Maybe G-d
is in
the air?
I just keep
breathing

there are these days
where I spin like the Earth--
in a scientific destiny,
cosmic mystery--
whirling with some
astronomical cause that is
unbeknownst to me

a victim of post-modern culture
where people feel that
whatever they think is
right or feels right,
is right

If I never remember you,
how many times did we touch?

If there are no pictures,
where did we go together?

The past is the dust on
the dashboard of your car,
one speck for each moment
that is forgotten--
Did we ever happen?

float to me

lean on me

I will catch you

weak as the legs

I use to stand

may be,

lay it all on

me,

& I will

requite your

trust with all

the love I have

ever had to

give, just call

I know

you need a

friend, & here

I am;

a stranger