Once upon a yesterday
Things were easier than you'd expect
One thing lead to another
Now you mind is filled with regret
A loop that meant forever
Wasn't broken
But thrown away
Three symbols of love and affection
Walk back and forth, day by day
From a broken marriage
Comes not a broken home
Instead a bitter child
Who resents
What she'll never know

Inspiring is
  the perfection of her approaching form
By every measure
  the epitome of classic beauty

Beguiling is
  her countenance so fair
Thousands of ships
  launch in her wake

Captivating is
  the outline of her femininity
Every line and curve
  arousing in me unquenchable desires

Overwhelming is
  the appearance of one so lovely
My senses and spirit
  soar to her grace

For when my eyes behold her physical image
  it conveys to me the essence I recognize to be her

When I die I hope my soul stays alive, if I’m going to die I don’t want to leave everything the world has to show.
I want to die but I don’t want to stop knowing whats it’s like to be happy the night the snow falls or the rain, or forget the sound waves make all day
I guess when it’s time it’s time
But God please don’t make me say goodbye to the things I would truly miss cause I’m not the one who set myself up for disappointment like this.

in the morning i peel you from my eyelids like wet leaves. still breathing out cold smoke. clutching at an empty space under small light.

yesterday’s lipstick creates footprints across a quest that deems me the villain, i am angrily embossing (could not press the pen hard enough) what does friends mean anyways, what does touch mean without ALL of you touching ALL of me, the invisible rope around my neck is a vindictive love letter explaining how much i do not need you but those words keep me open and pulsing for the day you will curl up in my hands like a sick bird. i will feed you curling ribbons of half chewed words while i curse the clock.

our timing was always movie theater doomed, a sad fate tastes like blackberries, but when my empty bed becomes too much, memories of your wet eyes swell. what could have been, hurts, what could have been makes my dreams wet with tar, what could have been

haunts your harsh hands. but please, keep them on me, eroding the illusion that you

ever

could have stayed

could have loved (me)

Having defied gravity
(not me personally
but by proxy
namely through
a dog, monkey and Soyuz
and fruit flies and bullfrogs
and lately through NASA)
I defy humility
I brave it, I challenge it
for there’s too much hypocrisy
in humility
For humility is such
that it never speaks its name
For when it speaks of Humility
it is Sans Humility
Take me
for example -
you hardly hear me
mention myself as Saint Humility, do you?
But that’s what I am, my other name: Humility
But people keep insisting on calling me Saint Humility
But I defy Humility


POSTSCRIPT
I also defy repetition
and over-emphasis
and contradiction, paradox
But, it must not be left unsaid -
in defying humility,
I think I’ve also
quite inadvertently
defined humility: *Saint Me

the four monks are out in the open
meditating;
the prayer flags are flapping

“The flags are flapping,”
hums the first monk

“The wind is there,”
intones the second

“It is the mind that
is flapping,”
observes the third

“Mouths are flapping
is all what I see and hear,”
says the last


the frog in the grass
is silent

six blind elephants
disagreed over what a human is;
and they concluded
they’d have a direct experience
to resolve the matter

and so the first elephant
felt a human and declared:
“A human is flat”

And each other elephant
through its own direct encounter
concurred on the lack of human dimensions

And so there was an end to the discord

the Wise Man is followed
by many, from near and from afar;
and see, the Wise Man stops now
at the dumplings store
and buys some dumplings
and waits for his change;
but the vendor simply resumes
at making more money

“So where’s my change,
my good man?” says the Wise Man
who is followed
by many, from near and from afar

And the vendor he replies:
*“Change, O Wise Leader of Many Followers,
as you have often said,
comes from within”

I’ve had many a confusing dream about you,
ones that have grabbed me and nearly ****** me
off the bed, and others that have made me sink
deeper
into the sheets,
caught on your every word,
knowing it will end so soon and I’ll be
reaching out my hand for your hair so I can
tuck it behind your ear and tell you that—
but then the anchor rises and the ocean splits,
a miracle switch but for me it isn’t. Its just
guilt that I wanted to hold onto you for longer
when you’re no longer mine to hold onto,
and frustration that I couldn’t even use my time
wisely, the little time that I did have.

"Maybe next time,"
I whisper into the dawn.
But then I begin to harbor some hope that
you won’t come back to me
since you’re not mine to have
and its just cruelty that brings you back to me at night
and its just cruelty that makes you leave me when the sun rises
because you
are a moon that crosses the skies
in a circular motion
and I am
only a star
that knows how to keep on flying
away from sensible notion.
I know not what safety is
and have only my dreams to guide me.