It's like soda-
Bubbly. Sweet.
It's like sun-
Warm. Bright.
It's like movies-
Neverending. Timeless.

I’ve been told
that my touch
is like knives,
and I tend to
leave scars
when I get to
know people.

You claimed
to be scared
of commitment,
yet I can see the
tattoos that cover
your skin.

I guess the pain
of me wasn’t
worth it because
I can feel myself
fading from your
skin and I hope
everything is dull
compared to me.

I smelled your shirt tonight
        Remember the one you took off before you left and tossed at me?
Said I could keep it for a memory.
                 It was an accident,
         I didn't want to smell it,
        To
           smell
               you.
     It reminded me of the night before you left,
        We stayed up talking half the night about you leaving,
       being sad but anxious and happy too
         I just
               held
                      you
Watched you sleep, wondered about your dreams
             I didn't sleep that night
        Stayed up all night and cried
               I knew I was gonna miss you
                  And it was gonna hurt so bad
                        To watch you go
But when I just smelled your shirt
            It didn't make me sad
                   Not
                         even
                                mad
It was just another memory
Of the mistakes I've made and learned from
             I've
                   let
                      it all
                            go
I guess I just wanted you to know
      That even if you don't want it,
                 I've
                      forgiven
                              you.
    Tomorrow?
I'm gonna wash that shirt
And *stop thinking about you.

.                     this is an ode to moody summers; to beautiful girls who paint our lives and cruise the streets thumping sound from their cars; colors transfigured upon pattern-diffused lifescapes and brushed off; to fabricated memories of retro teen hackers and their stylish computer labs buried deep within the garages of time; to television boardroom execs gnarling their teeth like new world warlords or shepherds of glamorous violence; & plastic; to new life; new life experienced most vividly through microsoft encyclo- tropics, and tasty lazers. hefty love we heave.

for love,
configure this:
                           you sweet my urge /
                           you float my pulse unending /
                           you you you
                                                  inspire /
                                                                ­   so simply.
                           you are as they say /
                                                                ­   the substance of life.

somewhere…
in the hopelessness of our moments is an energy like none-other.
           could say it rules me…                          …like the moon rules deep.
                                                           ­                      like the way we move/speak/****/

our molecular this,
                                    is
                                         drifting

                                   & found
                                      beyond far away waters,
                                      beyond folded trees
& elephant burial grounds.
earth hewn is the extract of earth grown. skin husked
or the liquid mint of mind.
                                            [alleged consciousness]

      
         life proceeds into a stunning mandala of moments.
acts of love      &
acts of death.
smoldering bodies
                        &              cradled belly.

              [beautiful is just one word.]
              [love.]
              [one word.]

for life,
configure this:
      savor this,
                this beautiful thing that is, this elusive thing that is,
us gusting.

owls know.
owls somewhere in the backyard.
         they tell us of our kaleidoscope colors.
         show us, of our sons & fathers & mothers.
         inform us of our mysteries.
our plots beyond white fencies/subdivisions.
sundays & sunrays & somedays we’ll glisten.

by beer.
by shelter.
by daughter most precious. long walk.
                         a father watches his baby crawl into a patch of pumpkins.
                         pink little baby hands
                         and the orange gourde field of fruit.

                                           a young man dreams this.
                                           thinks this.

journey far you way-far-man.
importune to that force from within and pursue humanity’s best shapes of goodness.
me & you & everyone we know.
forever persistent in the etchings we make.

we are illusion movements.
librettos far flung from what love might want to be.
                      [the universe heaves in the corner.]
                      [it throttles on the edge and beyond.]
                      [begging for starry dynamos to impact.]
                      [and blossom.]

us
together
by mere pinging, ponging, bonging.
vibrations and hurled bits.
she/you.
girl beside me.
girl who speaks in verse and words and thoughts nothing short of realization.
she harpoons the meat of inner-me.
& from then on in
& into the tones of our children,
i brunt nothing but to want her poetry.

I came to realize,
that writing is both a blessing,
and a curse.

For those whom I don't write about,
my writing is beautiful,
filled with depth,
and worded perfectly.

But those whom I write about,
are often angered,
by the fact that I express my thoughts of them at all.

My tongue is a double-edged sword,
it is healing to me,
but damaging to you.

But still,
I write anyway.