The moths fly in
to catch the
light
because I leave
the windows
open,
I find them
fallen on my
sill,
hard and crisp
as death-
dried flowers
losing color,
fading away.

I always leave
my windows open
and let everything
in.

the animals
the light
the smoke from a
neighbor's chimney
or a fire burning
far away-
the moths
the wasps
the black beetles and
gnats
and romance-
and you-

you are not excluded.

I always keep my
porch light on,
my windows propped
up
letting the world see
everything I am
and August,
you came in-
but
I still
can't shut
the window

I'm so afraid of
you leaving the way
you came
suddenly
suddenly
suddenly through an
open window
and this time I might have
to shut myself in
because I've never
found a light like
you

I'm like the moths
who look for the light
in my window
and get too close
and fly in, head first
without restraint and
incinerate

you're too bright and
I'm too open
and I think that
this is
it.

I stepped into
a book store
with you
and saw the hanging
words
up to the
ceiling,
overhead
gazing down at
me, the
oddity in
a bookshop

and to the back
of the place you
wondered.

to the
dusty corner
of a shadow where
you finally
called my
name.

Then as I peered around the
shelves of a
thousand pages,
my eyes
found your hand
outreaching,
pointing,
to the end of a
corridor
where a
broken
golden frame
of butterflies
sat uncared for
in its lonesome.

and against
the glass, I saw
myself, my face,
my reflection in
a coffin holding
the decorators of
the sky and then

the shopkeep in his
boredom choked
"she's found
the dead
butterflies..."

Candles burning
through the night
red wine, the
deeper burgundy
velvet shadow of
your hands

you falling

the orange
Jack
O' Lantern moon-
suspended in the
smoke filled
summer
sky

I'll watch your bottomless eyes
fill with me-

me, falling.

through the end, the passage of dark, radical
mysterious need and
desire

Where the moon can watch us until the stars
swim away, choose to stay,
play trapeze in the sky
or lose their blaze

Darling I need you to
demand me like
the moon, openhandedly,
devotes
to the sea.

If you want to
lose
then take
my hand

fall into my
thoughts
ideas
fears
of
e
n
d
l
e
s
s
time

If you want to lose,
fall in love with
my need

my desire.

my ceaseless need
of nurturing

If you want to lose,
it's in love
you cannot win

I hope that I'm not
scaring you
away

I know that my
enthusiasm's
unnerving

that my endless
joy is
over-
whelming

and that some-
times the
words can't
be contained
like an open
cage of
birds

The trumpet has more
attitude,
but the piano has more
words.

It doesn't seem fair
that the stairs
are there
when I'm unaware
of how to go
where
I need to be
hopelessly
honestly
following
steps as I count
the hypocrisy
engrained in me
plain to see
ascending,
descending unending
tragedy

is it up
is it down
is it all in the sound
of a breath
on a step
as I'm hitting my
head to
climb up the
staircase
and
for
what,
again?

It doesn't seem fair that the stairs always know
where they're going.