In my past
life
I was a painting
an oil
dripping off the
palette knife
of some
one who believed
in love and
the beauty of
a butterfly
who can't sit still
for anything, but
flowers.

Where are you
now?

dancing in
obsidian oblivion
or on the
surface of a
star

or maybe on the
moon,
(I know you
always wanted
to go
there)

Heaven exists
and
you live there.

you're dancing
and letting the music
take your soul
(please, please take my soul too)
where you're the light.

you're the light.

My God,
you are the light
and wherever you
go
I swear that
I'll go  
for you

so I will meet you
beyond earth
and stars
and moons
and anywhere that you might be

a week ago you
died
and
so
Heaven,
it is,
for me.

Some nights, I am fine
and the candles stay
put away
on their shelves

and I gulp my
instant coffee,
watch a
funny
tv show

and some nights,
the candles are
burning
and the wax is dripping
on the floor

where  I can't take a
gulp,
a drink,
a sip,
and the tv
remote
will change
nothing.

some nights
it's like
I never
lost you

and some nights
I feel
*I went
with you.

This has to be it.

the place between
then and now
how obvious
it is
yet
I can't quite
see it,
make it,
reach my hand to feel
it

but this has to be it

the effervescent
present
the holy
present
the infamous present
they tell you about

where you exist
because I love you
only because
I love you

and where I exist
within myself
and nowhere inbetween

When the day is over
I can still see you
being ****** into
a whirlpool
of turbulence
swirling at
your ankles
refusing to let go

what kind of hell is this
where your demons
won’t let you be
and the swirling
seaweed stops
for nothing
when you’re fighting
to get out

Mom,
I’m really sorry and
I know my demons
haunt you too
but when today is over
when everyday is over
I hope you still know
that I love you.

The week you
died
I ate a
package
of bear claws
of gooey,
cinnamon
almond
pastries

and you couldn't breathe
and you couldn't speak
and you couldn't see me
eating alone
in the dark

Dying isn't romantic
no wings
no music
no angels and
feeling of peace

it's sitting alone
in the dark
your back sweating
eating a dozen donuts.

I saw you shaking
trembling
unable to
control your
broken body

I saw your breathing
become
harsh and quiet
so faint that
I couldn't hear
it

and then I saw you
dying
I saw your soul lift up
and out.

I saw you break free
from the corpse
that could no
longer hold
the jubilance
the splendor
the joy that
is your soul

float away, my love
float away
towards the laughter
called the stars
and to
the dark side of the moon.

You danced
a long waltz
with death
high on
the soles of
your feet
so that
you would not
touch his toes

swathed in
blue,
and white,
in fluorescent
light,
to box-step
as you go

and the music here is playing
as this world we live in spins
and wherever they are taking you
I will meet you there, my friend.

I'll never forget
the shape of your hands
how your fingers
dance on a baby grand.

As your
bedsheets
rise and fall
and your heart is
skipping beats
you're not
lying here

and I'm not
watching you
slowly make
your way to
the pearly gates
clutching onto
your robes

When your eyes are closed
you're in a field
somewhere
leaning on your
old red car
or drawing a charcoal
deer across
the way,
sketching in her
eyes with lead
devotion

with each
rise and fall
you're mimicking
the sun and moon
and you're alive
in every field
in every mountain
in every patch of
dandelions
that I gave you,
as a child

as your bedsheets
rise and fall
and your body's
shutting down
and you don't see me
and
I don't see you

know that I
will take your hand.
I will hold your bony
fingers and
squeeze your
frightened wings

and guide you
into every
meadow,
every pasture,
every field of
splendent gold
that you
ever hoped to
live in.

When I finally said goodbye to you
without turning
to say it again
I kissed your cheek
and tried to
engrain the moment
in my head

And I walked across the
hospital room
to pluck a
mini
carnation from your
sack
Where I closed my eyes,
absorbed your sighs,

and then never looked back.

I don't want to
see the ash
trees blow
with wind that
used to touch you

or watch the
swallows'
shadow show
dipping
over blue

say exactly
how you changed me
and how I
affected you

you don't know
when
you left this life
that night
that
I was fading too

She's upstairs and
I'm in the chapel because
someone said we could
Burn a candle

And I touched
The holy water in the
Silver dish, worn from
Hands with prayers
For the dying
And the
Living
And those
Somewhere in between

And you asked me
How to make the cross
while i stared at
The flickering flame
And you wanted me
To say a prayer
And I wanted to escape

She is dying
In white sheets
Upstairs
And
You don't know what to say
I just want her to fall
Asleep

And for it all to go away.

the winter's when
you took your
leave
and I felt
like I couldn't breathe

though you're the one
in oxygen,
fifteen liters of
oxygen
the tiny ball
dancing with
the stream

there's no cure
and you are dying,
and in the lobby,
so am I,

and all
the leaves have fallen
while I don't sleep at night

December fills my heart with joy,
but also makes me cry.

The smell of
baby
shampoo reminds
me of
the last three weeks
when
you were dying

where your hair was
matted and your
nose was
the deepest
winter blue

and the autumn
leaves were falling,
yellow as the sun
and out the window
you exclaimed
the trees
had held up
longer
than any
fall before

I've never fallen so hard before.

Beep
Beep
Beep

And it's thanksgiving

Beep
Beep
Beep

The parade is geared to go
And you,
In your dress of white
More beautiful
Than every day
Of spring
Combined

Your hands like ice.

Beep
Beep
Beep

fluorescent lights
And glossy eyes,

My love,
I wish we had more time.

I had a dream in France
that you were dying.

and so I came home
after two restless
days of flying

And now you lie,
your health in slow decline

dressed in white sheets,
alabaster cheeks
your IVs all entwined

I can't say I love you
quite enough

And
in front of you
I know
I must be tough

but I never knew that
loss would come before

the angels come
to lead you through
their door

You always believed
that
dreams held something true

I wish that
when I dreamed of death
I hadn't dreamt of you.

There you are
like always

around every
corner,
in every
country

I've seen you walk up stairs in
Italy
and through
crowded parks in
France
where the lights
of the carousel
are dancing
and the shadows
of horses
are running
free

Oh,
my dear
you're not alone
and neither am I
as dusk is
opening

Oh,
my love,
you are loved,
and dusk,
she knows your
beauty

and here,
like always,
around every
corner,
in every
country,
I know it too

And here
is where I
fall into
the arms of dusk.

Falling
in the cobblestone
orange
thumbing through maps
of the
Roman Empire,

And the street musicians are
playing their sad songs of
days on end

Where the food carts are sizzling,
and the flowers,
in full bloom,

la vie, la vie, c'est la vie, mon amour

the blood in my chest
can feel the blood in yours
(and in me too)
for the first time in four
years

I couldn't offer
myself to you, love,
and I know
you wouldn't take me
if I did.

falling in love,
falling in
cobblestones of
orange
isn't sweet
or sincere

it's rigid
and sharp.
It's planks of wood
with splinters missing
rusting barbwire.

It's sleeping at night
with your ghost
words and
your image
in my mind
and everything I couldn't say
would never say

And the street musicians are
playing their sad songs of
days on end

Where the food carts are sizzling,
and the flowers,
in full bloom,

*la vie, la vie, c'est la vie, mon amour

You want to be friends
but I can't because
I love you
and I think about
moving back to
France
and I can't,
though I 'd love to.

and I can't bear the
thought of another
winter spent
an hour spent
an eternity spent
without you
a season spent
with someone new

I know why singers
sing
that Christmas is so blue.

I brought back
a bunch of maps
to hang up
on my walls

but they're
folded in a
lonely drawer
so I'll
forget them all

I never thought
I'd go so far
and neither
did you, dear

That's why I
can't love
my maps
(I don't want to be here)

I forgot how
blue it was
in autumn

when trees are
orange
and the hills
are straw
are dry
an indian summer
has gone by
and left its purple
bruise

I forgot how
the fog
kisses the cliffs
and how
it feels
to be with you.

Well,
who would have
thought it would
end like this?

with just what I wanted
in hand
and the painful sense
of regret
when you give away
what you had.

Well
who would have
thought it would
end like this?

with one sunset
fading out of sight
(I'm close behind)
the glitter
of a city
in the distant night,

and in a second it is over
and the rains begin again
and winter is your lover
and summer's just a friend

and flower shops are closing
and the candles burnt
to wax
a step into your long,
lost home
and you just want to turn back

and no one is waiting
how you thought they'd
wait
and you left someone behind
decisions are the demons
pedaling my mind

Well,
who would have
thought it would
end like this?

with just what I wanted
in hand
and the painful sense
of regret
when you give away
what you had.

the breeze is cool
my skin is rose
I'm alone and
you're a ghost

the sun, it sets
and color fades
my night kissing
shades of grey

...
even though
I love this life,
I can feel
such pain inside

You washed up
with the waves
last winter
with the
rejected corpses
of jellyfish
and rotting seaweed
pulled from sandy
trenches

you rolled in
with the sea foam
who birthed
Aphrodite
and the glass orbs
from sunken
ships,
gone by

in with the
driftwood
and the cawing of
seagulls
dipping down
to touch the
haggard surface
of your chariot

and with a gypsy "hurrah"
and the clank of my zills
my arm up
and my orange skirt hiked,
I ran into the under-toe
to save you

I will take you from the waves,
my love,
and carry you off into the night
(if that's what you want)
but I am not
the Pacific
or the full moon who
shows her face each night
who pulls you to the shore
when the
tide is high
I will shine a light on you,
but
I can't be your caravan.

When I think
of how
scared you
were, and
how you held
your stomach
tightly

and how the grass had been so dry
this summer
and the people,
so sick

of you
hunched over your
bed,
a tissue
in hand,
a heartbroken
plea to God.

I want to be
everywhere you are
and I want you
to know
that the world hasn't
turned it's back
on you.
That I'm afraid too
and that nobody
blames you,

Oh, Adonide,
nobody blames you.

Where were you
in days of
endless rainfall
when the sun
wouldn't
touch a soul?

and the curtains were closed
and the dust had settled,
tell me you know,
that the dust
has settled

in that room
that's
looked the
same for seven years.

You have to know
it's killing me
to watch you
collapse in
the rocking chair
and lull your mind
to sleep
with the pain
of all you've taken
back
all the postcards
and cigarette cartons
that you've brought back
for thirty years

You're not the same
and I'm not
who I was
then
as well

the dust has settled
the spiders have come
and the sun has
finally set
over us.

Knee deep in
Toulousain
brick
where sidewalks
dent and
water collects

and up 6 levels
in Jolimont,
not far from where
everything exists,

Here I am,
knee deep in
thought, and out
towards
the starry night,
the dark is
ever changing

and I can feel the moonlight
flowing,
of course, I feel it stretching
out its
arm to me
to stroke my cheek
in silence
when my thoughts become
too loud

I'm knee deep in the world, baby,
knee deep in the luke warm
end of daylight
where the water
keeps on moving
and trying to
pull me down
to where
everything is gold.

I've seen
five sunsets I can't
forget

and as I left
the smokey valley
and my eyes
stung
with ash and memory

the cascading blue
overcame me

I knew I couldn't leave you

and as the gravel
kicked under my tires
and my lungs
stung with regret

the aching thought
of the kettle
on the stove
and your weak cup
of coffee

overwhelming love
shone over me

But I knew I couldn't go back.

Like a shadow,
you were
never quite
within my reach

hesitant and
hidden
the sun pushing
you away

I've always seen
the Bayou in
the dimples on
your cheeks

All of
Louisiana in
the blink of
an eye.

I'm so afraid
that you feel nothing.
That your ribs hold
nothing.
That your shadowed
eyes see
nothing.

No love, no fault
no guilt or regret.

I am so afraid
and your
soul looks so fearless.

But they tell me
We're all afraid of losing
something

They call her
Candelabra Queen
with wax in her hair
a crow,
sleeping in her mane
to light each
fire that goes
out

fingers more
delicate than lace
a needle to
go through
and mend
the puddle
of a heart

Candelabra Queen
who sits for
centuries, with
cat skulls on her
throne of
years forgotten
years where
statues had viridian
eyes and zircon
was taken
from the grave

Where sorrow and
desire meet
to find the
common ground
on which
we forget
we're walking

I'm walking in the same world as you
Where is your understanding
and your shame?

Promise me
that you won't
let your feet
scrape against
the broken sand
and get tangled
in the river
weeds again

You're the one,
and I'm trying
so hard to cut
back the weeds
that pull you down

but the river is cold
and I panic
in ice
and the rapids
keep taking
me down

Promise me
you'll try to
keep your head
up,
as will I,
and that you'll
let yourself
feel the sunlight
again.

I write because you're out there
living your life of
newspaper print
and fleece
of wind breaking
navy,
blue
and black umbrella
rain

Where you walk from
steel grey
up
stairs and stairs
of
paisly velvet,

you

and you're behind
your desk again
glasses on the bridge of your
nose again
statues folding
against your wall
again
and me peering past
the crack in the
door again

a knock,
and you're mine

for five moments,
you're mine

for Greek
and for Roman
and for Latin,
you're mine.

If only your French
wasn't so good
and I didn't run
like a fox
in the night.

There's music
in the whistle
of the kettle
in the morning

and the sun,
who rises in the
east and gently
whispers
"you must wake up,"

in peeling an
apple and letting
the blade touch
your hand,

music in the restraint of a cut

music
in the slow inhale
when the town
beats you down
hard

and your hands
are holding your
head against
collapsing in
bed again

And there's music
when you put
your head down
in the shower
and the water
feels like fire
and you're drenched
in sweat and nightmares
and the jealousy of days

There's music in collapse
or cadence in you,
anyway.

I have been
waiting for
thunder so long

Checking the sky
endlessly
furiously
impatiently
searching

I have been waiting
for lightening to
strike
and for that sturdy
oak to come
crashing down

My stomach hurts in the morning
when I first open my eyes
and it's hard to breathe
imagine another day

in another burning room

This calm is so unsettling
when I can see the storm
raging in you.

The first time
that I
saw you
I was scared and wild
I loved you
for your
anger
as rebellious as a child

You showed
me that
love exists
(but also, love's deceit)
in the laughter
of the moon
and the kiss of
your bedsheets

the violin
goes on
as I hear it
play our song
where you
and I
danced in meadows
and I could do no wrong

But winter
comes when
I close my eyes,
the seasons always go
and when
I find
the strength
to open them,
I see eternal snow.

But even if
I knew
that we would
find lover's demise
I would have
loved you
anyway
even though I sensed goodbye.

Silver walls
a house of mirrors
fingers gripped
on your chipped
china sink

the tile is cold
and I can't find my shoes
from
last night

Where were you when
I hit the wall
and fell into cascading
black?

my knuckles
white and my
chest, heaving
and when I look into
the mirror
my cheeks are
stained, ebony
and rouge

Why can't I hold on?

There's a lump
in my throat
from swallowing
rivers of silver
rivers of metallic
frost
and nocturnes

shattered glass
in pebbled streets
where mirrors mean nothing
and you're always looking
outwards

There's a lump in my throat
from holding onto
love that does
not exist
anywhere within
my dimension or
the next

Where your touch is so far
lost, a
sunken ship,

a river flowing past
another "tell tale"
heart

where you've been
washed away,
swept away,
called away
by the waves of
nothingness.

you're so far gone.

I watched the lights
from out my window
glitter
from afar

floating in the
shadowed night
a swimming
pit of sharks

In my
endless dark
where light
exists
and touches where you are



I watched the lights
out in the distance
falling
down like snow

weightless in
abyssal black
yawning
in their glow

out of reach
from where
I stayed
and where I
watched you go

It breaks my
heart
you left me
and you
didn't even know

you
fluttered around
the tinsel
your silver wings
like stars

beating with
the tambourine
and your
confetti raining down

to give it all
to you
would
mend my heart
(like melted gold)

a potion
where I'm
bathing in
your
rose water
and you're
blooming
up the moon

a blow
of which
I'll never
convalesce

You're full of moon dust

Some things
are
better left
unsaid.

I will show you
the way to go
when you cannot
find your way

like years have passed
and there's a bird,
exists only in
her cage.

Like I'm your heart and
you're my ribs,
the marrow in
my bones.

Like you're the cage
and I'm the bird,
clipped, perched on
my thrown.

I will take your winged
fingers
and your feathered,
sculpted wrist,

and take you to
the stars, the sun,
where only you
and I exist.

I see you every
now and then
and it hits me
in the gut
how two lovers
aren't supposed to
cross paths again,
watch it fade to dust

I know that we
are strangers now
but it wasn't
always so
you used to smile
when I arrived
and frown as
I would go

but now your smile
is pleasant,
demeanor,
too polite
I know that you
have lost all
love,
but, oh, to be
with you tonight.

Where is regret
when flowers bloom
and they're on the brink
of bursting
with lacy desire

Where is regret
when yesterday
I was not who I am
today and
today, tomorrow.

Why is regret
here now when
yesterday it could not
create a shadow
but only a subtle
flicker,
tap in my gut
a wick of a candle
that will not light,

but burns to oblivion,
all the same.

Why can't I just be
and not let the bees keep
swarming in my head
words being written
on the wall of who I am
and who I thought I'd be?

Where is regret within my soul?

I have to stomp it out.

There's raspberry
red paint
smeared on my hand
like I wiped
the cherry lipstick off
my lips

I heard the sparrow singing

She walked in wearing
alligator
backless, silhouette
hair like a flag
blowing in the wind
and bows on her heels

Singing where I cannot see her

This is a moment in time
where I'm not sure which way
the wind blows
which way the bird flies
or ***** its wings and
where she hides, but I can always hear her

When I was 13,
they told me to
step up to the line
at the dunk tank.

Girls throw from that line.

When I was 13,
reality punched me
in the gut

the first time I
became aware
that because I'm a girl,
I'm weak
I need help

When I was 13,
I hesitated,
I stepped up to the line,
the girl line

the first time
I was told I
couldn't do it
because
I am a girl

When I was 13,
I said no
I said that made no sense.
I said I didn't want a way out.

A girl push up.
A girl pull up.

An excuse,
I'm a girl.

So they let me go
to the further line,
and I watched my target,
the man in the tank,
sitting on the pedestal,
laughing at me.

When I was 13,
I hit the target
with a swift wrist,
a hard throw,
my shoulder back and
the sun burning on me

my muscles flexing
eye on the ball

Because I'm a girl?

I watched him fall into the dunk tank.

They say
you chose to live
this way

that it's your own
**** fault

but where's the
fault in feeling
and not having
one to turn to
and needing someone
in the night
where your demons haunt you

where's the
fault in hoping
that white will take
the pain away
the pain that won't
stop scratching
pulling, tearing
where your demons want you

and where's the
fault in running
when you were
never told where to go
no hand to guide
no hand to follow
no hand to touch
or hold

They say you chose this path
that it's your own **** fault
that you don't deserve a human touch
of love
because you chose to live this way



I know where the fault is.

Oh Becca,
what have you done?
13 years have passed
and you are thin

your sunken
cheeks
a rotten peach
where Texas daisies
used to grow

a decade has past
and your demons
can't stop talking

that you're in the bathroom
again
you're flying so high on the tiles
again
dreaming of love you were
never given
again
(I know
your father
kicked you out and that
your mother never told you
that she cared)

And I know what he did to you.
And I know that it broke you
and that you can't find a way
to cope with the pain
of thinking love wasn't for you

Oh Becca,
love is for you.

Last night,
we had six miles
to walk
to where
I parked the truck

the winding road
the mimicking trees
my eyes behind
a pair of shades I
found in the glovebox

Thank god,

I couldn't take my eyes off you
the way you know about
poetry and
art

and you notice how the
light cascades
swims,
over every shade of dark

and you said that I'd be "it"
someday
the last time that we spoke

but now you
walk as though
you've never seen
this ghost
before

but I know you
want me,
all the same.

Six miles to go, but so much more to me.

I saw a trail
of flowers
leading to
the stairwell

as I brought the
groceries in,
through the building's lobby

the plastic handles digging ditches in my hands

I saw the fallen
geraniums, pink,
coupled by old,
and drying leaves
and scraps of stem,
buds who
never had the chance to bloom

I saw
the perfect path
to follow,
or a path to
walk away.

You're digging ditches in my hand.