there is a lovely green lotus

unfolding from the center of his eye,

as if the iris that looks upon my desperate body

is the darkened water from which it sprouts...

you said things that shook me
you said things that hooked me
still i am left with my loneliness
confusion is haunting, confusion is taunting
praying you once again hold this
you did things that stuck with me
words spoken still rattle inside
i rewrite, i relive every line
i feel fine until daylight strikes
praying you once again hold this

Tender flesh, pale & thin;
Cigarette burns pock cratered skin.
Entrails that entail, poison foretaste.
Hidden, not much to be read, that
Of false smiles, on a plaster face.
The cancer within,
Almost at its brim,
Building to the self-consumption
Surely bound to take it's place.

Held like this
A cupped hand of water
held still
that not a drop
enters gravity's pull.

Held like this
The hens egg.
Rounded palms together
without allowance of pressure
that would crush the shell.
Frail possessions.

These are days she remembers beyond all vicissitudes she faced.
Not jagged. Not stewing or careless.

This untainted moment
of protection
for something that will give back.

A drop of water
becomes a cup that was
dry as a bone.
The egg becomes
a breakfast feast
weary of starvation.

Hold life like this. Prudent,
tender and earnest.
These times she keeps
for consideration.

Every other second, you move your hands
elegant, pliable, alive and strong
you twist them into a knot
and rub with thumbs
I dare not look away
these hands are holding
nothing less than a ribbon
leading straight into my heart
and there it gets irrevocably tangled
and there it pulls me deeper into this madness
I'm in love with your hands
they live their own intruguing life
while you think and laugh...

Holy business,
steady work, hunting and gathering

hearing ears and seeing eyes
deafen'd and blinded,

by the rent sky demanding all
attention,
now, insider, consider,
be as wary as the ants
scouting my kitchen for a season,

while I remain safe and warm, and
welcoming, for now,
wishing to know how the foragers
bring the team
I may easily imagine, the harvesters,
happy as ever any ants must be,
working bits of a tiny empire
seeking shelter from the storm…

I can feel
Her presence
From across
The room
Her quick glances
And drunken desires
Her hand
Slipping
Into mine
The blanket uncovering
Our tender feelings

They know
Now

They said you cannot pour
from an empty cup,
yet you fill me up, overflowing with feelings,
feelings that I have yet to feel,
let alone even believe.

They said you cannot pour
from an empty cup,
yet I find myself being able to give you more,
right when I thought
I could no longer give.

They said you cannot pour
from an empty cup,
so we throw away our old fragile mugs,
take out the fine, gold-rimmed glasses
and we began to clink.

They said you cannot pour
from an empty cup,
so we took out a bottle,
carefully tasting by drips,
and into the night we drink.

They said you cannot pour
from an empty cup,
So we threw a feast,
with only us two as guests,
until it's the dawn
and even then we still celebrate.

They said you cannot pour
from an empty cup,
yet we clink, drink and celebrate together,
finish one bottle after the other
because you know we have
a fair surplus of wine
down in our cellar