to think that love
could be made and
that we could make it
we two being
what we are
hopeless romantics
worshipping an ideal
we've been the
gods of all along

too long
have we settled to take
whatever came our way
too long
have we waited
in silence
hoping that
"destiny"
would run its course
when "destiny"
was in our hands
from the very beginning

they say
the world is ours
for the taking
but anyone
can take the world
it's a ripe piece of fruit
dangling over
the public side
of a fence
all we'd have to do
is stand on tiptoe
and wrap one hand around it
but what would we do
with the world?
take a bite
and leave it to
a swarming anthill?
no
the world
is not for us
to have

we are not
consumers
after all
we are
creators
and while our
resources
are limited
you being everything
that's mine
and I being all that's yours
we manage
to make
what others
cannot
find

you can do that whenever you want to
and you probably will
if just to prove you can

activities you love are still worth loving
and you realize that
your appreciation of
ice cream and literature
while shared with her
is uniquely yours

separate from her and your love for her

here in this city
again, we have potential
my neighbor and friend

walking home at something like one o’clock
this man has his belongings
spread across the width of the sidewalk
spilling over into the grass on either side
he’s standing right in the middle of the **** pile

so I get to him as I inevitably would
thankfully protected from conversation
by audio-technica
I sidestep him and his specialty garbage
smiling broadly at inaudible snarling
and shouting I blissfully ignore
for several blocks
until this car’s lights flash
as it passes me on Fremont

a blue smudge floats about my right eye
I blink and the smudge begins again only clearer
again quickly
again again
blink blink
wink
is that a knife?

a spiral of increasingly recognizable knives
swirls about my eye
pivoting with my left
I swing my right foot clockwise
to turn around and pause
my right heel against the pavement
with my toes pointed up

I carefully adjust my headphones
as I gaze intently toward a figure in the distance
he doesn’t feel so distant

nope

I take a couple steps backward
not breaking my gaze
then turn abruptly forward
hastening my pace
I don’t need to run
he’s not that close
just walking quickly, maybe briskly
should be enough to make it home
I don’t know
he won’t follow me
not all the way at least

inside me are organs
inside my cells are organelles
inside me are organelles
they are mine
they are me

they are composed of atoms
they are composed of protons, neutrons, electrons
protons are mine
they are me
neutrons are mine
they are me
electrons are mine
they too are me
electrons and mitochondria and kidneys
are me
I am me

bone comprises skeleton
marrow comprises bone
bone and skeleton are me
marrow too is me
I feel this in my self
I feel this in my bones
bone feels this in my marrow
bone and I share marrow

are streetlamps heaven or hell?
I walked beneath dozens tonight and each held
maybe hundreds of moths. assorted insects
found the light they sought after and died
from the intensity of its glow.
is it heaven they found or hell?
it consumed them. it was everything they could hope for,
and it consumed them. brilliant lights burning
above them gave them hope of a better place.
are they in a better place?
I can't help but wonder. they don't look happy,
but nothing looks happy
when it's trapped in a cage,
burning up bit by bit.

oh darling
it is you who cries too often
and leaves nothing inside herself
it is you who purges
sweat
and blood
and *****
to the gods of self and society
sweat and blood and *****
to void and nothingness

grinning insanity of grief
cries to know and chooses not to
it is pain that you know
and pain that won’t release you

do not forget the heat of what fills your *******
your arms
your genitals
your sweat is burning
your blood is burning
***** burning
it is hell inside

empty your hell to me my love
empty your hot and heavy
loaded words and baggage
neverending flow of **** and ****
neverendingneverending
you are full of fire
and the molten gods of self-sacrifice
refuse to relinquish you
to holy happiness

empty your hell to me my love
I will cool your brow
with lips and hands and water
I will wash you in my love
I will know you with new love
I will fill you with
this serenity
that you can
empty
into
me

cool the fires of fear
and pain and loss and betrayal
with new fires of passion
that are exuberant acts of ecstasy
we are human after all
- only human
and holy holy holy to each other

this is what we are
beings filled with fire
molten images craved
even worshipped
created by gods
to serve as successors
we must stitch ourselves together
and quench this hell with heaven
a reclamation of scars
and scar tissues
we may build our own city
entirely of gold

she calls it
the BIG V
a ****** name
tasteless
but accurate
it is
BIG
very
B
I
G
stretched out
used
sold for such
a low price
*****
*******
*****
****
****** deviant
not exactly
a role
model
not some
saint
by any means.
I've seen it.
perhaps I will
never have
***
if other women
look like that
vaginas
like gaping holes
holes so large
it makes your
*****
seem superfluous
a thin branch
against a muggy
night sky
"did you bring
protection?"
she asks
I can only imagine
why she should
ask me that
am I in danger?
what monsters lurk
in that
bottomless cavern?
I want no part
in this expedition
I do not want to go
spelunking

press your hand in mine
tight enough to feel you there
loose enough to breathe

if all I was supposed to be
in your life
was an extra
I would happily pass you
on a street corner
if that meant I was somehow a part of your life
but I am more than that
to you
and you are more than that
to me

we are both heroes
of different epics
striving toward different goals
who have lifted each other up
rather than simply passing each other
on street corners
you didn't just serve me coffee
I didn't just catch your eye
we are more than that
whatever that means

and I love you
it is strange I should say so often
'I love you'
but it is my
constant reminder of
intelligence
superlative ability
and camaraderie
we are neither military men nor animals
we are the rewards of our labor
you of mine
and I of yours

you are the lit tip
of one cigarette pressed
against another
you are the reason
I burn

drip drops through my mind
freezing and thawing to
expand my perception

to live a life so brief as this
and beg for less
is to acknowledge
that life must be beautiful
or else death take its place
rendering the body immaterial
the soul inconsequential
only the circumstances remaining
to form a memory
of our brow-beaten brothers
who felt for so long and hard
that their passionate resistance
of oppression
became nothing

here's to a package of
Marlboro Reds
in the hands of
someone other than
the Marlboro Man
standing in
for those slack-jawed outlaws
my heroes now lack jaws
tongues
lungs

I swear it's been too long
since I inhaled manhood
The Great Darrell Winfield
rolled
packed
and filtered
into the only thing I know
that makes a man a man
the essence of
cowboy boots and farmer's tan
in every drag

see, I inhale my heroes
all the dusty red-necked
cowboys
Darrell Winfield
and my dad
men whose lives
went up in smoke
to coat my throat
in my own self-righteousness
I'm frightened this
is all that I'll have left
of him
lung cancer
and the lingering stench
of cigarettes

he always smelled
of cigarettes

he'd pull me into these
firm embraces
he held so long
that he'd suffocate me
in tacky business
and cigarette smoke
masked only
faintly
by a poor man's
cologne
still I breathed him in
until I'd start to choke
it was too much man to handle

my grandpa told me
“smoking doesn't send you
straight to Hell,
but it sure does make you smell
like you've already been there”

he was
a grown man
cursing
crying
lying
dying by himself
trying to drown out the inferno
with a case of beer
but sobriety finds you sometime
and I'd rather suffocate in cigarettes
than lose him altogether

and even if he smells like Hell
at least that means he made it back

this is a haiku
I don't think you will like it
it is very short

remarkable love
death to depression I sing
wings do grace me still

love everlasting
everfeeling. unending
a burning desire
a passion. heated
if only it lasted
but wasted instead
because we were silent
in love. yet. so lost
we fight. we forget
nevertheless
we die

open air is cold
youthful love embraced for heat
hearts are not quite warm

there once was a turtle named Otto
who called all the Mexicans "vato"
but now he's in heaven
choir turtle eleven
with a rather nice little vibrato

the culmination
of passion - disappointment
and ***-stained bedding

water droplets mean
nothing to windshield wipers
one swipe and they're gone

the moon can wink
I swear it's true
at least I think
it winked at you
I wish the sun
could wink as well
but on the sun
it's hot as hell
and with that heat
his eyes are closed
and cannot open
I suppose

passive indulgence
over, under, and again
never dying down

silence in the skies
plumage floats in little tufts
great cat stalks away

smiles fade
into empty couch
cushions
late nights
talking about
the future
reduced to
the idea
that change
is only
natural
gum wrappers
litter the floor

     "would you like
      a piece?"

perhaps
but offers
made on winter
nights hold
no
relevance
now the sun
exists
burning my eyes
as I roll off
the couch
the impression
of that
emptiness
clinging to
half of
my face

it would be nice to
be French - no one would expect
you to be friendly

sleeping while there's sun
makes me feel like a vampire
waiting for nightfall

down from the sky
came Jesus Christ
robed in glory
framed in all that
is holy
holy and unholy
****
corruption of society
cried for forgiveness
take us to your glory
let us in your *****
love us
like you love your own
oh God
we are hopeless
desperate
and depraved
wicked sinners
as you have called
for us to be
who are we to live
in righteousness?
that is not our place
our place is in Hell

down from the sky
in a blaze of glory
came Jesus Christ
our Lord and Saviour
with flaming sword
and no forgiveness
a burning hatred
for a wicked world
condemning them
to eternal damnation
in a lake of fire
as they screamed
take us
oh God
into your *****
forgive us our sins
and accept our
adoration
inspired by fear
as it may be
and all went black
and darkness prevailed
but for the light
of the fury of Christ
as we
a lost and dying world
desiring whatever
redemption
we thought he had to offer us
were destroyed
were cast away
and forgotten

down from the sky
came Jesus Christ
with hope and love
and grace and forgiveness
for those
he had predestined
to accept his hope and love
and grace and forgiveness
and he
watched
and he laughed
and he let the world
burn

the flower is old
splashes of pink are not so
petals fall away

here, we make money
last. the same twenty dollars
buys a nine line high.

the first free minutes of the day find me
scrambling for the lighter that will ensure my
good standing with a
young and dumb, restless addict
of the two-years-older-than-me generation

her cigarette hangs limp from her lips
waiting for the fire that I promised her
I had to offer
eyebrows arching
fingers followed by toes tapping
in an anxious less-than-patience

so I fumble through the pockets of my jacket
tapping fingers into gum packets
doing what I can to keep from laughing
at the whole
****
thing

until at last I find the lighter
for the babe who's smoking Marlboros
and says she doesn't care who knows
that she smokes cigarettes

I was looking for words
on the day that you left me
I'd been looking for words
for a while by then
and I guess you expected
that saying you'd leave me
would spark some epiphany

but you left me exactly the way
that I was
speechless
and searching for words
that would fix everything but
nothing was perfect enough

and hours
to days
to weeks of thinking it over
left me standing there
speechless
with nothing to say to you

but that was the reason
you left in the first place
I couldn't stick *******
two words on a line

I couldn't speak
love
into existence
I couldn't speak
passion
I couldn't feel
life

and when words finally came
they came
one
at
a
time
first came
****
and then
*******
I guess two was enough

soft spoken kisses
buried in my neck and
across my face
remind me of happiness
joy I found
in a golden shock of hair
and two lips stuck red
on the face of a woman
who swore that she loved me

tight tight nights
of hold-me-close sensations
remind me that
I haven't always been alone
and even more
that I don't always have to be
but I am
touching skin to skin
and passing witty banter
for flirtation
takes our minds off
the fact that we aren't
each others soul mates
or lovers
or anything more than friends

we are distractions
from the painful reality
that we have no one
to pour ourselves into
no one to cradle
no one to ****

for just this moment
we pretend
we can be that for each other
supplying what we can
to keep up with demands
of love
affection
attention

after all
that's what friends are for

cowboys without
mustaches are just dusty
illiterates. yeehaw!

they can say what they want about us
but while the snow may be cold
our hearts are warm
our socks are thick
and our jackets make us look obese
the thing that makes it great
is the fact that we don't care
because the snow
gives us a chance to play God
we simply lie on our backs
and make angels

little birds work their way up her neck
as if her ear would give them
the rest they deserve
their colors are fresh
ink is set
clearly their flight
has not been long enough
to make them fade
vibrant
but hidden by hair
not quite long enough
to obscure them
just long enough
to give them shade
from time to time

I long to give those birds
the rest they deserve
to lend them my lips
as a momentary resting place
on countless occasions
in the years to come
I long to give them hope
to show them that their flight
their constant motion
is unnecessary
and that it is ok
for them to settle down

there's something to being happy
smiling with all twenty-eight pearly whites
laughing so hard
that our abs begin to burn
hiccuping
and choking
and crying
as we tend to do
looking away every time our eyes meet
and giggling to ourselves
because we know it's not that funny

it's that feeling of euphoria
an abnormal feeling of
buoyant vigor and health
a feeling we cannot control
but we welcome that helplessness
because we know it can't last forever
and no matter who we pray to
or what we say
or what we accomplish
we only have this moment
to feel the way we do

metaphors are
rubber bands
we may extend them
as much as we like
we may shoot them
at our classmates
we may impress
our professors
with the shapes
we can contort
them into
but the more
we extend them
the more we
wear them out
and its very possible
that with all of our
stretching and extending
we could render
our metaphors
useless
*snap