This morning gives
me bitter cold
that kind of cold
that sleeps in
bones

that does not quit
or leave or cease
down blankets
socks or winter fleece

they
do not rid this
aching chill
not running far
nor sitting still

and so I write
because I can
in hopes that
passion
warms the hands

the thawing blaze
of artistic desire
might be enough to
light my fire.

There's a rose growing
on Lydick Way
behind an
old Mustang

against a
wooden fence
and a stump
where the
cherry tree fell
when the winter
hit us hard

it couldn't hold the weight, my love

there's a rose growing
without tending to
without a nurturing hand
without someone there to
dead head it

there's a shadow there
from the yellow
house across the street

and when the moon
is full
your silhouette is blue

Moon or sun and
rose or ****
I'd carry all of your burden,
all of your weight,
nurture you, Rose,
if I could.

Here I lie
in a browning
blanket stained
with mascara from
wiping my eyes

in the blue light
of the pool side
gleaming
and the silence
of a summer night

it's here
I lie and do
not know where
pain comes from
or exists within
my soul

or why it
burrows in
so deep and
buries itself
in its hole

and how
agony can
be so big
yet it
makes one feel
so small

Here I choose
to feel my pain
to lie and
sleep through it
all

Your olive skin
is sinking

(when we were kids
you put black olives
on your fingers
and you grinned)

your fingers are worn
hands
cracked with age
from bearing the weight
of heavy things

(when we were kids
we were Greek gods
we were infinite
darling,
you gave me my wings)

and I can feel it
closing in

the way you can't
force yourself awake
when hard days
euthanize
you.

I can feel mortality
pushing you down
(it's pushing me too)

maybe
I should pray more
than I do.

"A poppy bud
is blooming
somewhere in a field"

and I am lighting a candle
my feet sore from the day
spent working, spent
painting the way light moves
across a field

"It's opening
and no one sees it."

and I am washing out
rings in my coffee cups
again, hands dry
rinsing the suds off
of shiny metal

"It's funny,
no one tells a flower to bloom."

and I am thinking about what
you said to me
about red poppies and lavender.
and I am pulling the blankets
up over my eyes,
and no one sees it.

No one tells a flower to bloom
or
to love you as hopelessly as I do.

Your hair is
blowing in the wind again
the rusty window rolled down
static on the radio
forehead sweating
its pearls

you just got
back from the doctors again
and the news was
anything
but good

and I've been waiting for this
moment
for longer than
I'd like
to say

When I saw you spiraling out of control

When I saw you consumed by self
loathing
and embarrassment

and I saw you cry
your pearls

And each tear was
more beautiful than

a thousand cranes
I'd fold to make you well again.

There is a woman
in Spain
whose mother
used to
read her poems
at night before
the moon
lulled her mind
to sleep

and now she
keeps them in
a journal
while her mother
cries at night
and her father
dies of cancer
and the moon
still owns the night.

My hand keeps moving
and out pours Dahlias
white laced
scratchy shadowed
full of drooping buds
about to burst with life
in inky eternity

out pours spiny stems
arching over sunken
leaves
veins swelling and
branching out
to sunlight

out pours secrets
my secrets and my
tragedies
my wishes and my pain
my father who never looked my way
and a bouquet of dahlias sent
in replace of a childhood

out pours dahlias and the pain
of now knowing
why you left me.

After we hung up the phone
and after I heard
the ghost in your voice
singing
(its song of wasted abandon
of histories
of your medicinal haze)

I saw a pile of
lavender
I had yanked up from
the man-made soil
in my landscaped yard-
another man-made object

Vicodin or Lavender

I want to feed them to the sea
(it's a song of reckless abandon
of hope
and of better days ahead)

But you always find another
orange bottle to ease your pain
And I always find another
field of man-made flowers
to take my mind off of
letting you go this way.

Mt. Scott never seemed so far away
blue hills and yellow fields
flowing away
(like the moon pulls the tide)

North Umpqua Highway never
felt so short
and so filled with agony, the same
cracks and fissures and *** holes in a road that leads to you.

I would have stayed with you
even though the patio was falling through
and you never kept my secrets
and your heart was full of hate from
1000 pasts of bad goodbyes
and neglect
and flies swarming in the heat of summer
because the trash needed taken out

where I had never had asparagus
and I learned how to feel the cadence
of a song

where you birthed a beautiful soul
and also broke my heart

Mt. Scott never felt so far away.

A silky purple sky
so hot
like my head is under sheets
there's no way I can breathe

and see
the patterns in the air
of branches, twigs, veins
of bark twisting
clouds coiling
slithering in the rain

cold drops on the windshield again
in another taxi
another smoke stained
cigarette hole in my cardigan

and man

I miss you in this Cajun heat
the orange light bouncing off of cement streets
where you have gone
and I cannot defeat the
demons dancing
in my thoughts
and dreams
and everything you
mean to me

Where tornado alley never ends
or goes to sleep.

Ok, so I love you
and I hate this Texan heat.

Lines inside of trees
around my eyes
at my finger tips
around you as you dance in

candlelight

and lines of wax in veins of wood
and lines, lines of unread scripts
in lines of books in my book case.

Lines,
lines I told myself.
Lines I tricked myself into believing.
Lines I tricked you into thinking too.

I dreamed about you last night
after six years
of leaving all of my thoughts behind
letting them be closed up and padded away
in suede suitcases
dusty boots under that patio
where
you held my hand so
tenderly

tenderly,
I loved you

and quickly you
flew away

and frightened,
I fell.

How hard it is to be in love
and to forget it all
when I still see you in my dreams.

I love
the thought of
being yours

of bare feet on white ships
and your arm around my shoulder

(oh how it dances
how the sun dances on the
milky shore)

your whisper in my ear
to a soul who has been
waiting all these years

(oh how it thunders
how the waves thunder on
the shore)

and how I want to be like
sunlight where
you're always reaching
and I'm
never far behind

I don't know what to do
when nights are
never-ending
like tonight

there's something about
a black sky
that makes me restless
makes me think of you

a black sky
that's weighing heavily
on me
and pressing me down
into fits of rage

a hole,
so deep
that I can hardly see that funnel of light,
dripping down
to touch my
outreaching
hand

that's your love
that's your love
that I don't have
and want and need
and ache for
like a bee must search for flowers

honeycomb and fits of midnight rage

"Dear Sarah,"

Just this little word.
that puts me in agony
complete agony

I completely ache for you.

"Dear Sarah,"

a formality.

But you don't know how it makes me
weak
to read these words
(over and over)

If I could only be so dear to you

as precious as
white marble
I'd be porcelain, I swear
I would be a whisper,
an exhale
a saccharine goddess

how I have been so carved by you

"Dear Sarah,"

nothing and everything
to me.

I wish I didn't want you so

but every time I see a sculpture (I can't
help but think of you)
and your silver eyes
your glassy, silver eyes
that penetrate my soul and
make my knees go weak
and heavy like I'm
wading through weighted water
and trudging, moving forward, current pushing back
it's all the same.

It's all the same in how I am impaled through the chest
with your brilliance
and your soft demeanor
and there are so many hidden places of you
behind so many walls
of which I know nothing.
I know nothing of you at all.

And I am sure I love you.
I am sure I love everything about you that
you have ever done and found
and all of those mysteries veiled
behind the mask you wear for me.
In this dimly lit room I know I
love you so

I was wrong
in thinking love
does not exist
and falls apart
before it ever
lasts

I see you
everyday  
(my longing is in agony)
and your passion is
overflowing even when
we do not speak

Dreams do not come true
when you're bursting with talent
and passion
and a paintbrush is your weapon.

Dreams do not come true
on stage when you feel it with
every inch of your body
when you've turned yourself into
something you're not
in the limelight.

Dreams do not come true
when you can't pay for
your dinner
and the lottery goes your way
and you lose your way.

Dreams do not come true in Paris
in love and hope and joy of the city
when the streets are littered with
garbage and hookers

Dreams do not come true.

A seed that broke open
in the brownest dirt I'd ever seen
like my eyes were part of the earth
a neighbor seed
a neighbor seed watching you crack

and I thought you were falling apart
and I thought you were breaking so far
so deep
in a way that I couldn't sew you back
up
[where no amount of thread or love or joy or hope could mend you]
I love you.

buried by all of the things I put on you
all of the ways that I smothered you
all of the soil that I couldn't sift through

until
in a moment, green
a burst of viridian joy and I'm inhaling
every millimeter of life that glows through you, out of you, thank God existence lives
through you

A crack isn't malign at all.

I love you.

I love every piece of confetti in you
a swirling cauldron of
passion,
coral
passion

falling from the stars
like shattered mirrors

I love you like I love purple
black
swirling dust that settles
in a tide pool

like sunlight through trees
the warmth of a fire
the birth of Aphrodite in
a dancing sea of foam.

You are every bit of the universe
every breath
every movement
every bird who ***** his wings.

You are everything beautiful and wonderful and confetti.

And I knew there was no place
better than here

more air than here
that I could [free fall
in]

and swim through
endless pastures of gold
pure gold
[a thread through a sequin]
and tiny shards of glass
where I can see my face
sparkling

there is no you
no individual you
or me
or dust devil to destroy us
[a volcano]
to melt the gold

you and I and dust and coal
and that strip of pink
in the sunset's sky
we're all made together

And I know there is no place
better than here.

I sang a song
in the forefront of the storm
In the gush of warm
before
the rains
come from far away

before black silk nights
are biting cold
and stars are
nothing but
shattered glass
within a sky and times are hard
because they say "you'll never make it."

and rain
and rain
descends like bullets again
bullets again
in the shape of
a slow, deep breath
where I'm too quick to
exhale

I sang a battle song at the top of my lungs
in the pool of each breath
in the depth of a sky
so crystal
I could pirouette on
obsidian and feel the fire
of a star

I sang a song before the storm came
before I would not be stopped
and where every arm that goes to hold me
back
will only find infinity
and endless velvet skies

I found the moon

hidden behind the pines
behind the chirping crickets
legs as black as night

behind tear filled eyes
and ***** windows
sharing light with
victims and with widows.

I found the moon, I did.

I found it hanging over a chair
still pushing you and me
and endless waves
endless waves of grief.

There's a woodpecker
in my chest
tapping on my ribs
tapping on my breast
tapping on my feelings
even when I rest

There's a woodpecker
in my lungs
smothered by the tar
muted and unsung
choking on black shame
swallowed by my tongue

There's a woodpecker
behind my eyes
beating its blue wings
chained under the lies
weeping for passion
under my disguise

I want to set you free,
woodpecker
from the cage inside
my chest
but this conformity,
woodpecker,
forces you to hide
like all the rest

I would let you out if I could.

Cursive letters to you
to me
red flags up on
mailboxes

anticipation

and love

and you touched this paper.
Oh God, you touched this paper.

And the ink !
... belongs to you
And the stamp !
... belongs to you
And holy hell

My heart belongs to you!
Cursive letters to you
and me.

I fell off a mountain.
Face up,
the wind carrying me down
like an anchor,
a falling bomb

the sky has never looked
so blue before
and rocks,
never
so tall

where a little rabbit is running
hopping over black,
blue bleeding through
the willows
And I'm gasping for air
and laughing

hysterically laughing

for the joy of blue.
the joy of here and now.
the joy of running through the
woods like an animal.
where in Michigan

you can't see me falling.

Darling, life isn't
really
complicated
at all.

I don't know why I came here
again

the light is like a river
through the panels
on the ceiling
and the white bricks
on the wall

a wild call
of salmon swimming
through a stream
and
memories plastered
on the high beams

and it all feels like
a different life
one where I knew you
where I loved you
where you were not
a stranger
a lamp post
anyone or anything
I walk by on the street

the crooked bus seat

I don't know why I came here again
when I have a new life now
where my dreams are inches
from my hands

but still in a river, just the same

where my finger is a fish hook
and I can reel you in again
and lie on my back,
feet in Deer Creek

I don't know why I came here
when Oregon's all that's left of you and me.

I wrote a love
as dark as
a December night
where stars
will always
shine.

I made a mess
of love as
cold as snow
as white and
pure as winter
[pearls]

I don't regret anything
tearing the bark
off of the trees
in the park
and pulling the petals
off of roses and roses
and roses in your cheeks
how they bloom
[when you smile]
and when you are
cold from winter
nights of snow.

There are nights of snow
but the stars will always shine.

I can see the city
lights out
my window

after painting
cityscapes of
Spain
with that
little set of
watercolors I bought
in that small town
(by the lake)
so much like home
(a trinket in my hands)

each light is like
a poem to me
a song
or laugh
(contained)

if I could contain your laugh
and ship it back to me
away from arid cities
and the red sun
in the sky
I think
it would
look like all the
lights out my window
each night here in Madrid

and as I would lie
to fall asleep
and look at the orange glow
the moon
sitting in the dark blue
sky
I think of all the lights
that can't go out
when I look into your eyes.

It's romance
like a cow in a field
kind of romance,
like when a mountain
is everything
cascading over
everything
and horses
and I can't
tell a person from a tree,
It's romance like
a silver storm
a violet blast
eating all of the stars
away (thank God
also your eyes)
It's romance like
I will never see the sun again yet
it'll consume me all the same
And you say you never knew
romance from a palisade.

There's singing
out my window
on
rue molière
and I swear it
is a bird
(perhaps)
the sound
of dripping
honey

or the agony
I feel when
I feel your
eyes on mine and
I can only look
away

And air through a pipe is
a bird is
a flower is
(you are)
lavender honey,
and a songbird, all the same.

A mess you have made
and I have fallen
in love with the sun
in my eyes,
even though it blinds me
and all I can see is black
when I look away,
Sunshine, what a mess
you've made.

Oh my God
It's happening.
Just like they said it would.
I have passion and
I swear
I could grow
a peach
with only my hands
and toss it into
the purple sky
and watch the
stars fall
and the
trees
blossom
into color and
pictures to paint

a deer that lingers by the water

and runs
in a moment
with a peach in the air.

My God.
How leaves
can fall
and never
make a
sound,
a peach can
fall and
only give me
something to
smile about,
(all while a deer runs)
a purple bruise to kiss.
Oh God,
I hope this lasts.

You drove me all the
way to town
(5 miles)
in your rusty pinto
because you saw
an ad for actors.
And I was only 10 back then,
but I knew
that it was meant for me.
And you drove me
there and I saw
her teeth in the
photo
(pearls)
and I saw my teeth in the rear view mirror
(a broken fence)
and I started to cry.

So I threw the
paper on the ground
at your feet

and you never looked
for me again.

I remember
running across fields
with my arms out
like a plane
and leaping over
rocks,
or stumbling,
a fall.
I remember
singing across meadows
with my arms out
like a bird
and looking at
you nod
your head with
me as you
poke a stick into
the ground.

And that pink line

is in the sky again.
and there are

splinters in my hands.

and all I want to do is dig in dirt with you
again.

I'd run across all of the acres of the Callahans to be with you again.

I Fought a grizzly
bear
as you drank your
pomegranate tea

and I kept looking
at my arms
for marks,
and feeling my
neck for that
fever that climbs
up my spine and
burrows in my skull
until I just want
to take your

stupid tea

and shove it in
my ears
my nose
my eyes
my mouth
anything to make
the brown bear
run away, and
go
and make you see
that I can't fight a
bear alone.

I wrote a tragedy
last night
with my finger on your back
you felt my hands move,
trace patterns on your skin

and the glow of daylight
flooding in
and touching your face
and mine

my hand making shadows dance
and swim over
your spine.

you smiled as my fingers moved
the hair up on your arms

it felt like Indian patterns to you,
but I was spelling out
"It's over."

Put your coat on, love
it's raining hard again today.

A rain like the day my uncle died.
and I couldn't see the road as
I sped through the December night.
and I wouldn't talk to my sister
because I had nothing I could
say.

Put your coat on, darling
the streets are full of ice again.

ice like the fear as I drove through the hills
my tank almost on empty.
No street lights no city in sight.
And I couldn't talk to anyone
this forest has never seen a cell
tower.

Put your coat on, dear
it's cold again today.

It's freezing and a coat won't warm the cold in me.

with every dance
I forget your face
as I pique across the floor and
turn and turn
and turn
and spin
and try
to lose the dizzy
refuse to stumble
to the barre.

you always loved a ballerina.

I forget your cold
words
as I pas de chat
across the floor
and I jump so high
like my feet are burning
like the floor is
filled with
burning coals
the feeling I had
the last time I saw you.

Jump, you doe,
hop away.
get out of here.

I forgot you until
the waltz turn.
until my arms went in and out
and my feet pranced up and down.
and I spun and I spun
and spun
and let the dizzy
fly away as
I refuse to stumble
to the barre.

I had never been a dancer until now.

I fell into the coral reef
and felt like I could breathe
again
and saw a boat above my head

it sailed,
sailed away

and beneath the glowing
blue of day
and the waves that live
only on the surface
a shadow so deep
I could walk into it and
lose myself
and lose my hands and my feet
and every surface
you only knew
of me.

where I can't see the end and the beginning
and sight has no bounds.

I fell into the coral reef
and felt like I could live
again
and saw a ship wreck down below

rotting,
rotting away

and inside the decaying
bright as day
an ocean flower and a
broken heart I plucked
so safely in my hands
and I could walk into it,

lose myself,

and lose my memories and guilt
and every depth
you ever knew
of me.