the change
from one

day to
the next

you are

searching
for a path

as if it
exists but

if the truth
is nothing

is laid out
it means

you will
have to

carve a
new path

understand
the truth

of carving

you will have
to destroy

things you love
and you don’t

really get to
choose

things will happen
you will cause

pain in others
and you will
have to live

with that pain
true leadership

is lonely

you will have
followers but

they will never
understand

your sacrifice

you said

the stars are silent
tonight

each one knows
it might fall

but they come
out anyway

maybe they talk
to each other

in their language
or maybe they don’t

you said I was
silent tonight

but I came out
anyway

and then you
held my hand

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?

she had big
brown eyes

deeper than
my thoughts

and when I
thought of her

I remembered

this body of
water from

when I was
a child

they called
it a mine

said it had
no bottom

said

if you sank
you would
never stop

and so they
scared me

her eyes

the past was
not perfect

and everyday
will be the past

…

the world is
not perfect

and we are
the world

…

I am broken
and maybe

I broke you

and if I say
I was wrong

will you

let me live
and learn

will you

let me be
a human

being doing
the best that

I can

I have a wing not an arm. It is only one wing so I cannot fly. Sometime during the development of seed to man a message was misconstrued. It is quite easy to imagine, a gene gets distracted by a sudden movement, she says yes when she meant no. I have done it many times myself.

I live each day of my life with the same choice my parents struggled with for so many years. Is it better to remove it and be a man with one arm or leave what nature has seen to be fit? Maybe I am the next evolution. Did you ever think of that? I did.

It’s not that bad, really. I just have to remember to use my arm when I wave; otherwise I create quite a stir.

I sit and stare at the birds perched gently on the wires outside my bedroom window. I can only wonder if I am a mistaken man or a mistaken bird, because I do so long to fly.

if I was not me
would you tell me

would you recognize
the difference

do you know me
well enough

have you thought
about me

enough

so that I live
deep within you

do you have a
model of me

living inside you

if I was not me
would you notice

I was not home
when you called

used to be enough
it gave us space

we could be apart
and survive on our

own
now

everyone has to
be connected

all the time
I feel wired
         weird

like

I’m part of
a machine

I’m always
close enough

to everyone so
they can touch me

but sometimes
I don’t want to

be reached

the gift of
the internet

the curse of
pollution

there are
more stars

on the earth
than in the

sky

power is the root
money is that which

flows through it
poison not water

the desire it spreads
grows exponentially

it has a smell
that gets into

your skin

rub all you want
once it’s there

you can’t get it out
it is a tattoo

on your soul
marking you

you might get
what you want

but you’ll never
get what you need

I believe in
the artificial

the metamorphosis
of dreams

nothing ever is
everything could

become the other
I change one small

part

layers beneath
the surface

and I change
the function of

the whole

it is not magic
it is science

or something similar

and we are all
plastic toys

faith screams

aching for
something
anything
absolute

bodies are
instruments
of worship

primitive
sounds pushing
into each
other

wanting not
to destroy
but to dominate
subjugate
each other

pain bleeds
pleasure
like a pig

a sacrifice

and I realize

everything is
made of word

and word burns

and I realize
when I
finally
stop feeling

I won’t
need word

to express
what I felt

but until then

I need to form
these disguises

and wear them
out

she is in pain
the quiet kind

there are no
cuts or scars

there are no
lumps or bruises

there are no
screams or tears

nothing is broken
nothing ever heals

I was not there
when you were dying

I was there when you died
I missed so much

I said so little
I am so lost

they were mine
in my time

a gimmick
perhaps

but not to me
in my time

I was too
young to

know what
that meant

they made
me laugh

they made
me sing

that was
enough for

me

I was a
believer

there is light
that falls

from the sky
stars that

fall and die

and we make
a wish

that witnessing
their death

will bring

us fortune
or fame

you did not mean
what you said

your words were
caged monsters

escaping from
your mouth

you did not
know their form

they were mutations
of what you

meant to say
they had these

small sharp teeth
that cut me in

so many places
you still can’t see

I am bleeding inside

I am afraid I
will never heal

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.

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.

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

she waits for
the wind

to twist her
she knows

this world is
not for her

she is nature
she is distance

this world
has no space

it is filled
with artificial

she cannot
understand

its language

she is silence
she is birth

waiting for
the wind

to take her

she died
that night

suffocated
by pain

a body
against
itself

cells
contaminated

by an
intruder

no one
let in

but it
had a key

that no one
gave it

and that
remains

the mystery
no one has

solved

life has a way
of living

when left alone

it flows from
every angle

it senses
sensuality

in every movement
it leaps and lands

with the

beauty of
a ballet body

People lost in
popularity
democracy
run amok

seeking hits
without highs

connecting line
to line
not mind to
mind

I don’t mind
if you borrow my
lines

just give me credit
in the morning.

life is an experiment

and meant to be
lived by learning

we cannot
change if

we do not
learn

if you
contradict
yourself

you must
tell me

that you
were wrong

that you made
a mistake

and that
you learned

otherwise I
will call you

a liar

if you cannot
accept responsibility

for your mistakes
(which we all make)

I will not give you
credit for your

successes

no one
(not even you)

can have your cake
and eat it too

remember when
there was not

as much

maybe you don’t
but there was

a time

when there was
not as much

and much didn’t
mean as much

as it does today

haves and have nots
were steps away

from each other
and played

together and
didn’t care

maybe you don’t
but I remember

I stopped
thinking

let the
moment be

you entered
me like

a hurricane

wet and
cold

thrashing
around
my insides

disrupting
everything

I thought
had been

settled

I suddenly
erupted

eternal
flames and

everything
that came

from me
became art

I can feel
it happening

my brain
losing its

place

feeling like
I have to

catch up to
something

I can’t see

something I
don’t know

is real

things are
blending

getting soft
and slippery

nothing is
easily gripped

so it is
difficult

to escape or
at least find a

stable place
to stand

and I heard words
that jumped at me

fish on a feeding frenzy

we give our life
to meaning

meaning is the
drug

meaning is the
hurricane

spinning
spreading
*******

we create
meaning
in a mushroom

the secret
shhhhh…

knowing which
one is poisonous

The girl slips into darkness.  Her eyes swallow night. She seeks a crowd to be alone. She dances to electrons, rubbing against tight boys who could never matter.

She needs a night of empty.

She is trying to escape the nights of mourning the recently departed. The lonely boy in the tight black pants walks into the bar alone.

He is the sound of electricity escaping from the wires. Suddenly, the touch of the vulture’s claws on her pale thighs makes her sick. She loses herself in the white night. He floats above it all; the only pill to cure a night like this. She is incapable of swallowing.

When he whispers the name of another all she hears is a bird in a cage asked to sing quietly because the neighbors might complain. She disappears into the crowd to be alone.

I sleep all day

I hide my wings
beneath the sheets

my soul is broken
by belief

in something better

the gap between
what is

is too wide
for me to jump

and I am too
afraid to fly

so I sleep all day

asks questions
without

question marks
you do not

understand
that is the start

shed your first
layer of knowing

scratch yourself
pink and raw

do not let it
scab or heal

there are so
many layers

to go

it is more
painful the

longer you wait

when I am
hiding in

my blues

the ocean
and the sky

aren’t deep
enough

for me to
disappear

I still feel
so vulnerable

I am so empty

I could drown in
shallow water

I need you
to save me

you know so much

tell me something
deep that

will fill me
for months

make it slow
make it drip

into me

let me savor
each point

like only you
know how

I use my sharpest
teeth to tear

through your words

the raw ****** parts
I want to get to

the seed

the only part
that grows

I want to swallow
the meanings

sort them out

let them spread
through my blood

so I can absorb them

I know you
understand more

than you can
ever say

and this is the
only way I know

to know you

I wake up hours before sunrise and stare at the silver stars
painted into the black ceiling of our bedroom.
They are now peeling, the falling sparkles  
covering my body;
creating a burning sensation
deep inside of me.

I have invested so much in space
exploration, computing the distance between life forms.
I notice our forms that once fit together
like Pangaea, are now drifting
between ever increasing expanses of blue.

Each night I play peek-a-***** into the abyss
alternately covering my eyes with the rapid movement of my mind;
skirting the topics of emptiness and happiness.

I sit on the edge, the outer edge, the very outer edge
of my bed
masquerading as the very outer edge of the universe
and I reach
for all that is larger than me, for all that is still
inside of me.

I stare into my hands, those tender uncalloused hands
that once held us together,
and watch as they float away.

I see in me

what you said
is in me

I am his
I am he

the one
who painted

the hatred in
your heart

I cannot help it

I cannot drain
him from me

sometimes blood
is poison

that does not ****

and

sometimes cells
are cells

be not simple
say not what

you mean

so on her toes
she will remain

not knowing
who you are

not knowing
what you want

you cannot be
understood

so that you mean
nothing to her

I love to play with words

small words and
not that many

I think it
makes it harder

and I have more fun

to use less of them
to use the simplest
of them

to find ways to

to connect these small words
in just the right way

to say what I have to say
to release my voice

the magic is in how
they are connected

ask any great designer
it’s not the materials

it’s the connections
that bring something

to life

the drum holds
everything in place

the room
is dark

at least the
room in my

head

you don’t ask
them to enter

they don’t care

they force their
way in

and take up
residence

for as long as
they choose

and when they
finally leave

they leave
something

behind

the drum holding
everything

in place

you can’t fake
raw

tortured

the black cat
is deep

screaming

“I am just
beginning”

sharp claws
extended

wanting to
cut the world

into pieces

he looks
at me

approaching
him

and saunters
away

we both know
if we were
the same size

one of us
would  be
dead

it enters
without

resistance
everything

is accepted
in this

moment
the sky

is bursting
with color

past disappears
into dust

I blow it
away

imagining
dandelions

I am a child
a happy child

playing in
a wild field

where

bees don’t
sting and

snakes don’t
bite

they call it news
but it isn’t

no matter where
you turn

left or right
you hear talking heads

bouncing opinions
off each other

absorbing nothing
from each other

there is nothing new
in what they say

so many words
working so hard

to mean so little

a place called nowhere

creatures looking
for sin gather

circle each other
smell each other
taste each other

the air is thick with sound
and tight leather wears itself

the little birds are quiet
they perch on

their stools

wanting action
too scared to act

they move as if
they want to dance

they are trapped in
their own heads

some of the creatures
find what they are looking for

others leave alone
the little birds pick

up the scraps

all the voices

that should know
promised me

it hurts more
today than

tomorrow

I want to
believe them

but heart pain
is not like

bone pain
doctors don’t

know the cure
and while the

heart as an *****
is well known

the heart as an
instrument of love

is still a mystery

sleeping in
a fluffy
flower bed

dripping
drowning
in dangerous
dreams

scenes of
water

falls
storms
showers

lapping
in the last
breath

waking to

the mystery
of new skin

so many young
years still

waiting
to be lived

I wiped my
mind clean

erased all
the excess

all the things
that no longer

have meaning
to me

it’s so easy
to let things

linger and
build up

let them
weigh me down

so last night

I wiped my
mind clean

of everything
that means

nothing to me

nothing is left
it has no feelings

it can’t be held

it slips through
my fingers

spills onto
the floor

and disappears

it doesn’t even
leave a stain

when there is
nothing left

there is nothing
to clean

nothing to heal

we are not
at our best

we tried to
bury pain

paint over
the layers

knowing
there was

rot in our
foundation

hoping we
would not

have to face
the collapse

that’s for
the next

family to
deal with

but eventually
there is no

next family
and we have

to face
the fact

we are it

the day is
nearly here

I will have
to leave

my cocoon
but I am not

yet a butterfly
I do not

think I can
be safe

I have a mask

but I do not
have my

wings