With known, knowable and knowledge,
I paint my picture,
nebulous ocean of unknowable baffles,
but I know, I am that.

it’s dark
and the heater is humming
too loud for me to hear if she’s
sleeping soundly or
lying awake
waiting for
me

either way
she says my bed
is not nearly as comfortable
without me

that’s a good thing to hear
and it means a lot to me,
it really does,
but it doesn’t do much
to stave off the
doubts

who am I?
to have her sleep
in my bed like
we’re all
grown up

who am I?
to dive right back into love
after suffering through
such a catastrophic failure of love
that most sane men
would swear off it for
life

who am I?
to stare into her eyes
and pretend I am good
enough for
her

nobody is without fault
but I am with too many

greed, envy, shame,
wrath, hatred,
self-hatred,
sloth, guilt,
delusion, dishonesty,
lying,
and a laundry list
of pettier sins

while she has only been the victim
and had to cope the best she could

I know
she’s waiting for me
to work this
out

for me
to come to bed
with a fresh smile
and a clear head
full of love
and passion
and confidence

but I know none of those things
and I’m afraid it’s too late to learn
them

so don’t wait too long,
my dearest of all dears,
this old dog may well
be destined to die alone

take what you need from me
and fly off with a better soul

With you,
The color blue is never sad.
The north winds are cold,
But there is no chill.
The sun is a friend I had not noticed,
Beaming.

With you,
My hands are woven
And the grass is weaving
A great blanket,
Safe and long and warm
Like your hands,
When they cover,
When they touch me
Like my lost, new found friends
The sun and the sheltering
Earth
And the autumn winds,
I no longer dread,
No longer fear,
With you.

can I see your scars
he said to me
touching my shirt

my cheeks turned pink
I was dizzy
and embarrassed

his pale lips touched them gently
he smiled

Reality is hostile.
It isn’t set in stone but it is written in ink,
Easily smudge-able and difficult to interpret.
Personality is rude.
It comes and goes as it pleases,
Without posing for pictures or saying goodbye.

Wit is forlorn.
Never quite certain are the wise,
And boasting of answers are the foolish.
Beauty is evil in disguise.
Veiling the insides of the honest,
Uncovering the lies of the cowards and the tricks,
So the opposites may be seen.

And so it’s hard to find someone like you,
Who is all that’s hard to find.
A real kind of entity, who opposes all transparency.
A true beauty with no disguise, rather a virtue not to feminize.
A person with that on inside and out.

**That is why I Love You.

when i taste,
i am alone.
i am alone in this moment.
warm wind making love
to the candy green grass
and nearby, my open mouth:
a summer of oranges and chlorine
and the idea of someone else’s lips.

a curious lightness of the heart —
but i come back to my tongue
and my tongue only.

a million aftertastes
in the autumn that followed:
pomegranates bleeding in the kitchen
while the swimming pools
began to close
and those lips:
only a moment.
only an idea.

with taste i was alone.

with Sound
came restlessness:
a fresh morning
crowded and sweet
by the noise of the sun
that chose us.
that chooses us, still.

the sound of the bathroom sink
beating the alarm clock.
doors opening before eyes.
the sound of a strange tense,
of love in its past tense.

love craving a letter to wear on its tail,
and borrowing Death’s first —
how it leaves your teeth differently,
how it will come to remind you of this gift.

even the shy ones,
the sounds that happened while we were sleeping,
even those sounds from underwater,
where your voice returns to you
heavy and misshapen —

even there
when i listen
i don’t have to be alone.

i will wade out
                        till my thighs are steeped in burning flowers
I will take the sun in my mouth
and leap into the ripe air
                                       Alive
                                                 with closed eyes
to dash against darkness
                                       in the sleeping curves of my body
Shall enter fingers of smooth mastery
with chasteness of sea-girls
                                            Will i complete the mystery
                                            of my flesh
I will rise
               After a thousand years
lipping
flowers
             And set my teeth in the silver of the moon

head
brain specific
feels heavy

a little too much slouch factor
day in
day out

I marvel at the very weirdness of existence
to the point that I will wonder
if it's so weird, I am sick in existing

likelier,
I am sick in thinking existence so strange.

in the bliss phase of a hangover
I can march like a sage
no, I am a true sage
ready to let the bottom of the pale collapse from the weight
of the water

nueronal reflection
each atom in my head attempts to stare at itself
thus freaking its essence
right the **** out.

calm the **** down.

you can't bite your teeth,
with your teeth.