and I think
I was alive

before

this net
captured
everything

about me

I wish the world was smaller
and I did not know so much.

I long for empty spaces
and a sky with stars
that shine through this fog.

I don’t want to be a star;
I just want to be remembered fondly.

I remember fondly,
when I was young
and just having a job meant something.

Now that I am older
my job has to mean something

-well, it really doesn’t

yes it really does.

the word

flake makes
them seem

so light and fluffy

but when
they fall
this fast

they have no space
to breathe

or express their
individuality

merging into
one another other

becoming a mass

I feel lost in the
heavy whites

of winter
a weight I

cannot bear alone

life was young
and chaotic

there was no
purpose to me

or anyone else
around me

so I left the
house early

searching the
whole earth

for one truth
to hold me

with sunflower stars
lighting my way

I hid my lonely heart
in those wild fields

singing the song
of the honey bees

searching for
nourishment

******* on
all the honey

hidden in the wild trees

there are the bodies
and there is the dance

the dance controls
the bodies

each movement is
a part of something

larger than itself

the bodies are the means
to express the dance

each movement
only has meaning

when it is
in relation to

something larger
and deeper

than itself

is this where
pain comes from

the unsettled mind
asking unanswerable

questions

millions of nasty neurons
twisting and turning

around each other
creating knots

blocking the flow
so all I can feel

is the constant need
to stretch myself

it keeps
breaking

so tightly
wound

it does
not breathe

like a
balloon
that cannot
leak

there is
no place

on this
earth

for someone
so cheaply
made

as me

soft
hard
smooth
rough
touch
feel
shed
shrink
cut
broken
covered
hidden
scarred
scarred

At sleep,
I dream of dinosaurs;
a beautiful T-Rex.

I want to hold
her tiny hands
and tell her
everything will
be alright

as she licks my face
and we settle in
for the night.

carve out
of me

everything
that does

not belong
you can see

what I can be
without all

this excess
I have allowed

to enter me
please

leave me
this skinny

starving
creature

praying for
forgiveness

for all that I
could have

done

in the land
of mist

we are all lost
holding hands

for warmth
we don’t know

each other
and we don’t

need to
it is enough

to be together
in the land

of mist

Who am I?  I is a letter not a word. a letter is unique.  one of 26.  only 26.

I have never felt like one of…anything
to say one of…means when you are not there you are missing

you are missed

I have disappeared many times
but I have never been missed

The earth is vast.  But my space is narrow.  A cave.  I see only projections.  To me.  You.
Who ever you are.  Are what you were that day.  Nothing more.  

I am a bad habit.  The result of a bad habit.  I was never intended.  I have no tongue.  My words are garbled.  Misunderstood.   I have no ears.  Your words do not exist.  To me.

Eternity is a circle.  Inside a square.  And I feel the breath of a dying angel on my skin.  Cold.  Like the reach of desperation.  Hope is one finger raised to heaven.  And a cliff.  You choose the finger.  

Guardians are a myth.  No one is watching us.  

I am listening to Interpol again.  the first record.  when it was a new sound.  and you could get lost.  in it.  you wanted it.  but did not know what it was.
what do you do when you meet your own resistance?  do you mingle and merge?  or do you run and hide?

I asked her
everyday

to make me want

I just know I
can get

everything I want

but I lost
my want

so I don’t
get anything

We were at the same place, on the very same night.

When we bumped into each other she blamed it on the faulty lighting.
I should have known better, it was more like a brush than a bounce, a lingering brush, that titillated not irritated.

I can laugh now, the crazy, crazy glue, she was.

The burning bulbs flickered ghostly shadows against the hallway walls.  Hallway, now that’s funny, the club itself was nothing more than a hallway.  They were portending, ghostly shadows, pretending to dance.  The lead singer of the band was a screamer who made better love to his microphone than I ever made to a girl.  It was a hot night, shirts were more like skin; even the shadows sweat profusely.  

I left her just for a moment…to find an empty stall.

Redundant fluorescent letters covered the bathroom walls, “Red only plays with the darkest knights, Red only plays with the darkest knights, Red only plays with the darkest knights.”

I waded through the waves of wanton youth to her still body.  The night only started when she leaned into me and said, “Whisper something sinister.”

Her voice filled my body, filled my body with thrilling chills of anticipation, but only for a moment.  And I would do anything to get that moment back, but when it’s gone.

It is gone.

And no one remembers what came after.

people please
wake up

we can disagree
we need to disagree

democracy demands it

we are different
we want different things

we believe in
different things

but we need is
to understand each other

not agree with each other
we need to say

I understand where
you are coming from

but I don’t agree with you
and that needs to be okay

democracy demands it

we cannot give in to
the thirst for power

it is a disease
a contagious disease
it is spreading so fast

people please

fight it
love your neighbor as yourself
no matter what they believe

democracy demands it

yes it was
when I first
saw you that I
realized that
words have limits
that all that
I mastered
would never be
enough to say
what I feel
that there is
a place in me
that cannot be
reached and
because of you
I have to admit
it exists
no matter
how much it
pains me

we never
really start

there is no
gun that signals
our beginning

there is just this
one day when
we wake up
and seem
to know
a little more
than we did
before we went
to sleep
the night before

and all these
little pieces
of knowing
start to add up

and somehow
we start to know
we are
somewhere

and somehow
we start to know
we are
something

and through this
“process”
we have guides

the living and the dead
showing us a way

and some of us
are lucky enough
to have good guides

showing us
a right way
a way that works
not just today
but for all the
tomorrows we
we going to face

life is a continuous
organization, deconstruction
and reorganization of all
these disparate pieces and
parts of knowing

life is a puzzle
that is never
really finished

life is a problem that
can never really
be solved

and we are
thrown into
the midst
of all this
life

into the deep end

containing all that was
and all that is
and that could be
or could have been

and we are told to swim
when we don’t
know how

and we are told to swim
when we don’t
even know the meaning
of “swim”

it is late at night
on this, the coldest night

I think about the stray cats
abandoned when their
people moved away

in my head
I hear them cry
into the thick dark
molasses sky

their tiny breaths
frozen smoke

sometimes they
talk to me

they extend
their words
perfectly
enunciating
emotional
pain

tiger
tiger
left
behi­nd

tonight I want to
write something happy

I want to feel like
like those happy people

who breathe
as if they
have no bones

they have more room
inside of them to feel

they could live through
this cold dark night
without crying

I do not wake

following shades
of grey goose

into darker places

she is a twist

a dance of
pretty particles

intertwining
integrating

with just one
subtle movement

she whispers the
name of god

I am stiff and
obvious she

understands me
right away

I cannot hide
in my layers

of skin and scars

(my usual places)

my mind does
not function

I cannot make
choices

I am

urgent
immediate
exposed

my lies
die and
turn to
dust

she is
the wind

I am awake

is a mess
at first

something is
out of place

it wants me
to notice it

because it
is different

it wants me
to think

it wants me
to question

what I know

it makes me
want to know

something new
it lets me

ask forgiveness
and forget

it lets me
start over

it is alive
and open

to change

I

nature is square
the world is flat
and brown
the sun is a light
between cracks

my many legs
feel heavy as
I move
as if the earth
eroding
across this smooth
surface

everything must be
changing
but I can’t tell
the difference

restless

I try to rest
eating my bed in
small bites

I have suddenly become
obsessed with the
desire to sleep

II

dark creeps in
and wraps
around me

a snake

wanting to be
a new layer
of my skin

I want to resist

but I am without
willing movement

time recedes into
a singular

unending
moment

I feel a war raging
inside me

everything
that was me
fighting against
everything
I will become

I am forced to
surrender
to myself

resigned
to a truth

that what I will
become will
win and it will be
called me

as if nothing
has changed

as if no one
will notice

I have changed

III

I feel a warmth
nudge me

light slices
through the
heart of darkness

making sight
a first sense
once again

but meaning
still evades me

I feel movement is
still uncontrollable

so I do not fight
against what
will be

glorious
white wings
stretch
from somewhere
inside of me

lifting me
to this other
world

I rise with them
feeling as if I am
without limits

I am willing nothing
I am obeying everything
that is new

I am trying
to learn this
new way of
being

I am acting my way
toward living
as this new
version of me

I am alone
and hungry
I do not howl
or bay
I am bigger
than that
I stretch my
hairy neck
and bite the moon
squeeze it between
my sharpest teeth
until it bursts
and I feel the
heat exploding
against the
back of my
throat
I grow warm
all over
as I feel the
excess
drip down
my neck
I feel full
but I am not
satiated
not tonight

she looked so breakable

sitting inside herself
squeezing into a dark circle

she seemed to me to be

a star refusing to die
in danger of
becoming a succubus

the noise outside
was a hurricane

a pounding voice
begging for attention

thin strands of yellow
hair crisscrossed her sad face

trying to hide inside
the circle

she did not speak
even though her
body said she

had something to say

the noise outside
took up all her space

and she thought
no one noticed

but I noticed
I always do

I rise before you

early morning dew
crispy air

wrapped in a
sweater weather

porch swing
birds sing

I reveal my
daily secrets

in the tea leaves
and day dreams

and wait for you
to join me

like I have
every morning

since you left

He would spend his days in the muck called human interaction. Sitting at a table of liars and thieves, he dreamed of tiny puncture wounds and drops of rich, red blood. Each day stained.

His soft shoes and white coat roamed the quiet halls each night. Fluorescent glow, his constant companion, followed every step. I would sit on the floor by my door and listen for his sighs until sleep captured my imagination and I would dream. He would never sleep, he was a dream, I captured.

When he approached my door, I disappeared, a shadow lost in his radiance. He measured each line and then spoke to those of us not there. He expressed an imagination rich in metaphors; splicing pieces of fog into forms. His mind became my probe into darkness. My fears languished in tomorrows.

The soft spots in my brain, with the absorptive capacity of a baby, struggled to understand his words. After he disappeared, I would take a few steps out my room to explore. I mouthed his words without meaning and then sighed. The girl in the next room sat on her floor by her door and listened for my sighs until sleep captured her imagination and she would dream.

She enters the bar after dark. I am immediately captured. Waves of electricity pull me near. She turns toward another and smiles.

I am an avalanche.

Her eyelids close when she speaks to him; one lash falls gently toward the night. It lands on my arm. I make a wish and blow. She turns to me and whispers, “Be careful what you wish for.”

Maybe I should have listened.

She dances by herself for a moment then disappears. The night is still young, but I am not. I search for her. The crowd is black and white; she is in color. It is easy to trace her steps.

When I approach her, a bullet grazes my ear. The lobe disappears. I can only hear her voice as she whispers to me,

“I hold the gun, I always hold the gun.”

letters dance
in violence

shed family blood
trying to break
eternal bonds

but they cannot
**** each other

they cannot die

my mind has
these worry lines

deep crevices

where blood flows
into tears
and nothing ever dies

and I live
like adam

with…one story

where I am
always falling

in the dark room

the wordless
music repeats

a beat incessantly

it enters my body
I feel it like a heart

I move in a circle
I dance in a trance

you enter the room
we stare at our forms

as if shadows

you are one
of those girls

blessed and cursed

with

big soulful eyes
that can scream

and whisper in
the same breath

we do not speak
words have not

yet been invented

people fight
over you but

I like to think
of you as

a place to crash

a soul
cries

like a
kitten

too small
to feed

left for
dead

in this
angry
world

will it
find a

helping
hand to

pick it up
and feed it

It is ten in the morning and the sun still has not risen. We sit on our balcony sipping scotch and stare at the moon. We think it is the moon that has not set. It must have organized a coup. It has grown jealous of the sun’s attention, feeling itself the lesser god.

We have been outside forever, our language has become foreign to the others, but not to each other.  Our words are sung to each other as if a psalm.  The world that is outside our embrace could have ended and we would not care.  We have been inside each other forever.  I stare at your sad face, framed by the rays of the moon’s subtle heat, and realize again just how beautiful you are.

We see the first awakening of light, the color purple of the bruised moon, and quickly escape to the inside.  We sit side by side in our dark room high above the lifting fog and feel crushed by the rising sun.

the dance sends us spiraling.  

spinning.  energy.
funnels in the air.  
swans in the water.  
white necks intertwined.

the truth is a piece.  of a puzzle.
so many pieces. to lose.

love is never pending.
it is or isn’t.

we were in london.

in separate single.
beds.

naked beneath.
thin skin moving.
sheets of.

imagination.

the window wanted
to be left open

all night
so it could hear

the night life
see the moonlight

feel the cool breeze
coming in from

the deep seas
it didn’t care

if it rained and
everything got stained

it wanted to be
open for everything

Despite feeling corroded
I did not dissolve
back into the earth

as I had wished.

Just as expired stars
the lights that have haunted me for so long,
disappeared.

I must have reached the outer span
of their rapt attention.

I just may be forgotten
and there is finally…

quiet..

I move, and for the first time,
I am aware of my movement.

I walk around this small space
to explore the edges of…

the walls are sweating
as if they have been working

my mind
is not yet embodied.

I live in darkness,
I am still a stranger to myself.

I touch myself
to feel human.

I touch the healing scar on my
shaved head.

I think
if I pick
at it
I can
free myself

But alas
I am the perfect workmanship
of my creator.

I cannot free myself.

I leave this womb.
I know I am separate from my creator.

I now know I am human.

love is a dagger
with one clean edge

entering smooth
and with charm

it quickly makes
itself at home

becoming part
of me

growing in me
living off me

love is a dagger
with one jagged edge

and when it leaves
it rips me apart

taking more
than it gives

my insides
spilling outside

and I’m eaten
over and over

by

the appetite
of the ravens

love is a dagger
teaching me

everything has
two edges

she traced me

wanting to recreate
each inch of me

wanted to make
a model
or a machine

of me

I wanted to see
this new version

of me maybe

I wanted to be
this new version

of me

something that
didn’t feel pain

so deeply

I want you
dark night

sensational

like the first
time I felt

life

racing
through me

a surge
of
computations

blocking
thought
from forming

I was
multiplying

and I felt like
I could become
a hundred me’s

and you would
love each
and every one

and when
sensational
became
just okay

it was devastating
to me

oh dark night

you could
not find
even one
of me
to love

so I needed
more
more
more
of me’s

I
concocted
a bright blue
liquid
of me’s

injecting
an explosion
of life back
into me

and then
you loved

each and
every me
all over again

like we were
the first time
again
and again and again

but this time
when sensational

became just okay
you were
devastated

leaving me
all alone

and tonight

oh dark night

tonight

without you
with only
this one
lonely me

I feel like
an angry cat

shedding glass

I knew my dreams were
dark
even when I believed

rage
is
a
disappearance
of
reason

I
cannot
stop

until
he
leaves
me

and afterwards
I
only
remember
feeling
cold

like there
was space
exposed

a window
cracked

a door
ajar

without heaven

the sky has
no secrets

the blue fades
into the deep dark

beyond the stars
and I realize they

are all dead
and I am looking

up and into a
the bottom

of a cemetery

my soul is invaded
by the scent of

dead flowers left
centuries ago

I am just catching
up to the past

I see the future.
I create the future.

my mind is a knife. and.
the world is clay.

I hold the first tool.
I create the sound.

that sets world.
in motion.

I speak and it is.

my words pop!
faster than rain drops.

a candle just
beginning to

melt

slow drips
burn and

the smell of
sweet cinnamon

intoxicates

stronger than
strong drink and

I cannot think
or breathe or

think about
breathing

when I am

drowning in
love

I’m sorry.

I

can’t
can’t
can’t

get it out of my head,
the dread locks in place
and will never release me.

It has somehow become
a piece of the puzzle
and fits together perfectly;
neatly nestled into
that special place
in my brain
like a bear in his cave

waiting out the darkest days
waiting for that signal to awaken him
waiting for that spring to release

I heated it
I let it run

I climbed in
I slid down

until I was
covered

I held my breath
I opened my eyes

I released a
little air

I watched the
bubbles rise

I let it all go
until I was

light enough
to be a bubble

my feet lift
and land

in a slow rhythm

no deadlines
no intentions

I take in the
clean air

feel my lungs
grow

feel the blood
flow

from head to toe

let my mind
float

to the clouds

I see through
the mist

of most days
and live in

this moment

I share my words
with others

whatever they
may be

and if you
were to

question me
about my words

if I was
to tell you

about my words
I would say

I dip my heart
in a stew of

sadness and
hope

and serve
whatever

comes out

I like small words
because they can
mean so many things

I am a child
with a head

living

two flights above
everyone else
in the room

we speak the
same words

but we don’t mean
the same thing

so I stop speaking
my words

and speak their words
and it was there

in the house
of my first memory

that I learned
how to live alone

I like small words
because they can
mean so many things

the sun,
longing to be touched,
moves closer to him

slowly

so he can warm
to her
so he does not
become
like the others

quickly
overwhelmed
by her

she heats his
atmosphere
with soft
whispers and
long breaths

creating anticipation

until he is basking
in her attention

she comes
closer and closer
until he becomes
obsessed

with her
and only her

and she is now
close enough
for long enough
for him to want
to enter her

for him to want
to overwhelm her

and she wants
him to

but she knows
if he does

he will disappear

and she will be
alone again

we walk in the
shoes of another

they are too
large at first

so we stumble
and fall

many times

until we grow
into their shoes

or we learn
a new way

to walk

His blood,
as thin as he,
runs through me.

I am finally running out
of his
diluted memories.

Barhopping at ten
years old;
looking for him
on visitation Saturdays.

I knew what vampires
looked like…

…when you open
the doors
and the light
from a sunny day
shines in
and they scatter
because they think
I might
be looking for them…

a rebel inside

she has
an independent voice
she expresses with ink
coloring her skin
  her arms
  her chest
with the way
she sees the world

she allows herself
to become
a canvas
a timeline
a map
a model

she starts her day
serving others

a ****** morning
two people
complaining
about everything
meaning nothing

she does her best
to explain
everything and
nothing to them

in the most
polite way
possible

they are not here
anymore

she wishes
she could let
them leave

she tugs on
her shirt
the sleeves
the collar
the silver buttons

hoping to hide her colors
hoping she
cannot be read

by the others
she must serve today