For North,
Wake up at 12:00 to the smell
Of cheese frying in a pan of butter
And bread turning to toast,
Get out of bed. Go into the kitchen.
There's a broad, straight back
Drifting down from near-straight shoulders,
Burying itself in an apron around his waist.
Smile and hear the words "Good morning!"
Try to remember last night.
Try too hard and wake up.

The sun in the east has a message
And delivers it to the west,
But the North and South were burned
And never venture close enough
To read the words.

For South,
Wake up at 9:00 to the smell
Of salt and dust. Wake hungry.
Stare upwards at the ceiling stains,
Stare sideways at the peeling paper
On the walls. Remember how she hated it.
Sit up. Lay down. Breathe. Do not think.
Get up again. Take an aspirin for the headache.
Drink a beer for the headache.
Go to the filthy kitchen and try
Not to make a grilled cheese.
Hear a dog bark. Contemplate canine ******.

Long for her, long for him.
Long for the cruelest lingering touch.
Wish for her eyes; wish for his smile,
And languish in the arms of a dream.
Whisper to no one in the voice
Of the world's most beautiful folie à deux,
And shut your ears to all you cannot hear.

Cars are flung out over the black
Shining obsidian of the bay,
And the bridge is invisible under their invisible tires.
They fly like little search lights
Illuminating this patch of road and then that one,
With chunks of diamond dispensing white
Beneath the hood, and two red red eyes
Glaring from beside the trunk -
As though the past, soundless and distant,
Is somehow at fault for their little flight
Between the sky and the reflected night.

We took a drive down to Arizona last summer -
I know, it was a terrible season to do it, but
We didn’t have enough time off while
She was in school, and I had just gotten
My vacation, so summer it had to be.

We were cruising down the road through the desert,
(And I know people say that deserts are full of cactuses,
But really they aren’t, I mean, I only saw like
Seven the whole trip and that was really disappointing
Because I was only really in it for the cactuses;
Oh, but I’m rambling) and she asked me
Why there even are roads in the middle of
What is basically an enormous sand dune,

So I said I guess there must be towns out here
In this enormous sand dune, places that need
Getting-to. She looked up at the empty shallow-water
Blue of the sky and said, well why would there be
Towns out here? Between the heat and the salt flats
And the lack of cacti (which she said for my benefit)
I don’t see why anyone would visit a desert,
Much less live in it. Which was something to think on,

So I did, and after considering the question, I said,
The pilgrims came to a land of harsh winters
And savage peoples (or so they thought) and
Hated the place, but hated it less than their home,
So they stayed. She seemed in wonder and a little
Sad, pondered this new information for a moment
And said, what they were running from must have been
Bad, and now it’s got them stuck out here

Even when it’s dead they can’t go back.
I knew she meant more than villages in the sand,
But I just said yeah and dipped my head.

War is too large, too big.
War is life, it is full of
Infinitesimal wiggling things
And inestimably giant
Ogres. War is not just for
Soldiers. War is for the air,
For the trees; war breathes
In the muck of the world
And purifies nothing. Why
Are we surprised? It is
Man-made, of course
We must expect some
Inefficiencies. And anyway,
War goes on despite the
Horrors of global warming
And the poor polar bears.
War thinks it cares, really,
It paves the road to Hell.

War is thirsty, but not for
Blood. It wants ambrosia;
War is a threadbare coat
In the governor's closet.
It is ugly and familiar, and
Always a little hungry. War
Only wants what it deserves:
Some cakes, some tea - a
Rest, maybe, (since it has
Labored longer years than
Any innocent human could.)
Yes, War is tired, so tired.
It yearns to ****** the yoke
Onto another's back. Like
Atlas begging someone to
Pick up the slack just to
Scratch his itching nose.
War is lonely and cold.

It does not understand
Why men make it work
And work and work, and
Still blame it for their hurt.
War would be harmless
If Death and Pain allowed,
But they are never blamed.
War is befuddled by man -
Always will be, always has
Been. It will scratch its
Aching head and wonder
Why so many ******-handed
Men will call on it with rage
And thundering voices.
It wishes for choices, but comes
To earth in the winter like
Apologetic frost. War is
Helpless, and War is lost.

Hey kid,
Are you tired yet?
I want to go home.

I'm bored.

Let me know when you've finished
Working your fingers ******
With practice and promises and hope
And it still isn't coming.

We'll do lunch,
And you can tell me
How your day went.

Do you remember what it felt like
To be covered in mud; grime
Running down the sides of
Your grim face while you
Tried to hide,

(And you could hear them
Stomping around
Trying to find you
Trying to **** you
And you were so afraid)

Do you remember?
I was next to you,
And you said “Let me forget,
Let me forget” and I didn’t;
I couldn’t because
I’m selfish,
and I would be
Alone with these memories,
So I’m reminding you,
Please forgive me, I remember
All of it, all of it, all of it,

Your face twisted in
That terrified grimace of
Pain and fear and all
I could do was whisper
“I’m here, I’m here”
And now I’m the one
With flashbacks banging between my ears
And I can’t let you forget
That once upon a time,
I was a whole man,

I can’t let you forget that
I was strong once, (that
I’m ******* up now, but
Back then, I held you
And) I’m not worthless,
But that day is still bayoneting
Me, (and I need you.)

Please, tell me.
Do you remember?

Oh love, lie down again. Stop
Sitting so it seems as though
The sky lies on your shoulders.
Do not stoop so, oh love,
Lie down again. I am here
To push stars from your back
And wipe the dust from your eyes.
Oh love, do let's not stay up tonight
Wondering over hows and whys,
Or whether the money is due
Thursday or Friday. Let's not cry
Against the wrongness you see
Under the streetlights.
Oh love, don't let's cry.
Lie in the silence.
Die with me a while,
I will kiss your arms
And promise not to smile.
But love, lie down and sigh,
Slip back to sleep with me.
Release the hopeless weight
Of the sky above your dreams.

When we came laughing back
From our romp in the waves
And our mothers beckoned
To the pink sand in the setting sun,
It followed us to shore.

It looked like us and smelled like us,
But spoke some other tongue.
We were loathe to trust It at once,
But the adults said “everyone gets a chance”
So we gave It one.

It wasn’t so bad to start,
It learned our language and told us
Things about the deep from whence It came,
But sometimes It burbled and choked,
And we didn’t let It play with us those days.

Then, one quiet morning,
While the birds were silent and nested,
The fog came rolling off the banks
Thicker and darker than ever before.
Our papas were late for work and
Cars crashed on the interstate.

Weeks went by and it didn’t dissipate.
People were frightened and worried.
Anxiousness colored actions and faces,
(But you couldn’t see faces in the fog anyway.)

It was like a flock of birds, what happened next.
Like a quiet flock, when one bird calls
And others take up the cry, and soon
The sky is full of wheeling, screaming gulls.

Old Jerry said, “That thing’s the reason
We’re stumbling around as blind as moles.”
Everyone knew what he meant.
Everyone made sure to show dissent,
But the cry whispered in their scared souls.
(It is hard to know that you are blind
And think that it is no one’s fault.)

For a month or so, nothing was done.
Maybe we shunned the thing a little more,
Maybe It took to playing out by the shore,
(Doing the devil’s work, some said)
But nothing happened. (We didn’t understand It,
So we were distant; we were afraid.)

Then, like all fear, we conquered It.
We drove It to the shore. (In a car, of course.)
And told It to go home. It refused.
It gurgled that It had been sent as some sort
Of ambassador. So, we did the only
Reasonable thing, and killed It.

The fog faded immediately, and we could see
(Rising out of the ocean with bright
Welcome banners affixed and all festooned
With streamers and balloons) several
Enormous ships. It must have liked us.
The End.

P.S.
They burned our city to the ground.
All our homes and yards, our dogs and our
Compact cars, they cracked up the interstate
And flooded the basements. All the silk ties burned up.
Then, at the end of their wrath,
Shaking with rage, they took one child -
Someone’s brother - down with them into the sea.

(The nights after were filled with the most
Mournful and terrifying songs
As though they knew what we had killed together
As though they had hoped for some other outcome
Though no other was possible.)

More than anything, I remember
The first blow that struck It. I remember
The sound it made, so surprised,
And that it didn’t even know to run away,
But merely stood there and floundered
And flapped like some kind of bird -

Like some bird that had dared to sing
Loud enough to attract a hunter’s sights.
It did not comprehend our decision.
It stood in place and let itself be burned,
(As we were later burned)
Right next to the sea.

Of course I remember, silly dear,
I can't forget paralysis,
Laying half-in, half-out of death,
Hearing your words and
Feeling your breath,
You kept me there.

(And I was already
Death's ward, but you
Fought so hard
To keep me alive,
To bring me home,
And you were so brave)

Of course I remember, my lovely fool,
That I was stupid
With blood in my eyes,
And nearly wanted to die,
But you held me. Though I was so
Out of it all, floating above us both,
I remember you carried me
To a man with a bright cross on his chest.
Don't let me forget.

When I woke from the medicine
And there was your face, then
I could see something that had lived
In darkness, hidden from view
While we were side-by-side
In fields of ******. When your eyes
And cheeks were an honest pink
From tears, I knew who you were,
I knew you had been there, between
Me and death's fingers. You
Were the mightiest of all my gods.

Yes, sometimes I would prefer
Not to bring home the shellshocked
Lieutenant from the great battle of
Wal-mart; sometimes I would like
Not to be tackled out of the cashier's
Line of fire, but every time, I remember:
Your arms were the only thing I was sure existed,
Your voice radioing for air assistance.

The only thing I hate about those memories
Is that they are specters in your periphery,
And your every hour is a haunted one.
Forgive yourself (because I love you,
I need you too,
Be happy.) Please.

You welded me to life, you marvelous idiot.
I won't forget.

I was a dog once,
With a thick coat and
A sure bark. A safe bark.
I wanted to make my way
By the sides of humans.
I wanted to smell the
Shoes and feet and
Sidewalks and small
Animals of the world.

I was a dog once,
That am dead now,
With flat eyes and
A flat cage. A sharp cage.
I was named once,
That am now named
"Get 'im, get 'im"
Or called sometimes
Just a shout that
Bites me tight,
Tighter than any
Other once-dog's bite.

I was a dog once,
A loving pet.
I was loyal,
But loyal loses bets.
Now I am what
Teeth demand of me,
What voices demand of me.
I am irretrievable,
And I am hungry.

When I die, I hope they sing
The songs I would have sung:
Pop jams and rock ballads,
And soft-sweet lovely nonsense.
Just, please, not hymns. They always
Put me terribly on edge, and
If anything I want to leave you
Happy - all of you. So have a
Concert, shout and dance.
Anything but a solemn march.
I don't want your unshakable
Grief on my ghostly hands;
I refuse to be a brick in
Some grey cathedral's arch.

"Drip drip drip"
Like some kind of sick
Clock ticking the silence away:
The water in the sink.
The heater running on the brink
Reminds me to work
Harder. Tomorrow's another day.
"Drip drip drip"
Reminding me of your wet lips
That I can't kiss.
Like a butterfly that flies away
When it gets colder
And the sweet-smelling flowers fade.
I feel older,
But tomorrow's another day.
"Drip drip drip"
Gotta call the guy to fix it,
Slipping beyond repair.
Too many playful moments as a child,
The light's fading from my hair.
Lying on a mattress with
Springs digging in my back.
American water torture
"Drip drip drip"
I gotta pick up the slack tomorrow

When I took my words to
The permission man, he was
Less than enthused. “No, no,”
He said, “these won’t do. They’re
Robotic and archaic - and this one’s
Overused.” “Well pardon me, sir,
But all I have are these. You see,
My pen is a keyboard, and I have
Backspaced all the previous drafts.”
But he just frowned and turned away
And told me to return some other day.

Something flew away from the window.
The window is closed, and
Something flew when the sun rose
Behind a flappingwing;

A flappingthought flew from me:
Pitiful rising thought behind a shadow thrown
When Something flew away from the window -
But the window is closed and the sun rose
And Something flew away.

Shipwrecked on the shores of your body,
I have forgotten how to count the hours in days,
Or the weeks in years; I have forgotten how to speak.
I crawled across your skin - like sand
Shifting under the rolling waves -
Onto the hard ground where you lay
And kissed it, and made of it my shelter.
Now I know only the language of the wind
That blows from your mouth
As laughter makes it into a sky.
Now I know only the light of the sun
That my sight makes of your eyes.
Lonely would I be if I remembered others
But I rest on you now with nothing in my mind,
Only the lullaby of your waves
And the breeze of your laughter.

Subway rides seem slower
When you're in love with someone
Who loves you back.
I know, because I missed my
Stop coming home today.
See, I thought it would take longer,
But I was wrong.

I can't help but think that
If we lined up all those rides
Back and forth from home to home,
It would stretch farther than
Shakespeare's plays lined up
From comedy to tragedy to history.

(An order we're suited to.) And if
We were a play, we would have
Been deadly. Tickets would be
One by one, "Are you in love?"
Mostly no, but sometimes yes,
Then, "Lord, don't see this show.

It'll **** your kind, you know."
Because it-- because we would.
Because who wants to think that
"I love you" means
"Until I'm bored" or that
"Please don't leave" could ever be
Met with an expressionless face?

Sometimes I wonder if you took
All the romantic comedies this year
And played them in alphabetical
Order, would they be longer than
My messages on your machine?
(Or the ten seconds of your voice
Laughing in my tape recorder?)

The train rocks softly as I write this.
The noisy crush of people around me
Makes it hard to think, but nothing
(No matter what I try)
Makes it hard to remember.

I am Merely
Walking the day out
On tired feet,
Merely smiling and laughing,
Merely a collection of
Bone, sinew, blood, flesh
And various small change.

I cannot rearrange myself,
For I am Merely
This or that.
Just a voice, just a pair of hands
Immutable and singular -
Just a pair of watchful eyes.

In my mind I am gold and silver,
But I met Midas beneath a still tree
On a patch of shining grass
And I was blinded.
He said to me,
"Merely skin and guts comprise us,
A pile of atoms, Merely,
And the dust we walk is only dust."

I could not believe as I was told.
Here lay the king who shone with golden glory
And unfolded such a hollow story
That it broke my heart
Merely beating.

Humming after a shower, the counter-
Melody rises from the TV screen.
My dripping eyes slide to the flowers
On page six of a magazine.

You used to smell like lilacs and
Mint - when you brushed your teeth.
In the cooling autumn, your summer
Scents are diligently haunting me.

A hundred years ago, or so,
You promised: "I won't let you go,"
But then one of us was bound to float
Away, someday.

A field of lilacs all in bloom
Are as charming as an empty room -
Without a bride, without a groom,
And slowly fading.

Folding the sad old news away,
I lay it on a tray and settle down.
How many strong men and pretty
Girls are up there where you hang around?

Chances are, it's multitudes,
Trillions more than crawl the earth,
And you don't need any sort of test
To tell me what each one is worth.

How many dances do you see
With women I could never be?
Does each, with a hand white like a lily,
Ask for your touch?

And how many girls do you deny
With passionate emerald eyes like mine?
How many are drunk on feral wine?
Probably none.

But then again, I won't begrudge
You the benefits of a resting place.
If you are where I think you are,
You bear immortal, eternal grace.

And it's loneliness, like a bad
Priest preaching the gospel wrong,
That sneaks into my throat tonight
And forces out a song.

A hundred years ago, or so -
You took my passionate emerald glow,
But how on earth could you ever know?
I cry when I see lilacs alone.

Ten seconds of tense
Perception remain to a dead man
When his head's been hacked
Off at the neck. I wonder,
Does he see (as he rolls away
From) his body, does he ponder the
Strangeness? Does he think
"That's me!" or does he not
Recognize those brainless parts:
Torso and legs, jittering arms suddenly
Without identity? More realistically,
Probably, he tries to scream
Without a throat, all thoughts of life
And death and hope choked out by
Ten seconds of tense pain.
It's difficult to not yet be dead
And wish to be alive again.