fear and rearranged writing
committed disgusting drinking
holding, expecting, waiting
reckoning nothing but
anger and poisonous hopes

incense, fidelity and friendship
energy burnt to keep evil at bay
cleansing unwanted illness away
spells for ritual baths, hospitals
houses and graves

sacred memory, luck of the eye
oft hung to purify jealousy and love,
protecting the water of cradles and
unwanted infants, blessing your
dreams and nightmares

my own simple art:
I, myself, destroying kisses,
conversation, *******, thoughts
and promises built to make history

fed on cold satisfaction
gorged and happy (oh, what *******!)
I, myself, do without relationships
and ache without these things

late summer Sunday tea
a cup of afternoon dream

ghostly sincerity, passion
and suspicions

angry love, fatally mislaid
somewhere in an isolated heart

only the purest wings survive
in irresistible fires

You’ve given so much throughout your life
and been content to live on dreams
Sometimes they’re all you’ve held
     alone as yours
And although that may be the way
     it’s always been
It’s not hard for me to find the words to explain
     You deserve so much more

I’ve seen you staring past me
with a distance in your eyes
I’ve felt the burden of guilt you carried
     through the years
I’ve felt the warmth of your hands
     beneath the autumn sky
but you said you’d rather put me in your past
     than to stand and hold me here

Did you see yourself as I do
as you fell into my arms?
Could you see yourself reflected
     in my eyes?
Didn’t your lips touching mine help to
     tell you who you are?
Did you learn anything about yourself that way
     lying in the grass beneath the stars?

        Well, I hope things can be different
        and that a change will come for you
        to wash away all the pain you feel
        from your self-inflicted wounds

Somehow people could grow and go

and move happily among inspiring college friends

Literature, professors, winter love, everyone’s camaraderie—

sometimes wondering to myself if I really belonged


Now I'm feeling like becoming

the same person I was on campus, being the same again

Would that be a fine change to close out my life?

Then would I have to think anymore?

sensational dark eyes
and your smooth scent
behind cool, twisted silk
palpably warm pressures
struggling hypnotically across
bedroom walls and blurred wrists
lips glow silently, close in the dark
ridges flicker across edges of umber
shadows test the viscous, paraffin light
against my throat, your smooth scent and
sensational dark eyes

hoarding paper coffee
cups and dusty trust

tangled affection in
foolish bluish knots

hungry wandering and
pale-cut bittersweet tea

shadow mazes, vines and
winter's milky weeds

innocent blood
of our real
darkness

loving rooms
and ******
skies

locusts ring, the evening's damp
the moist grass bleeds in stillness
the moon remembers what it's seen
and all the things that might have been
your silence comes back all too soon
and suddenly it goes

rousing the air, a ceiling fan
curtains stir an evening mood
the quiet takes me back again
to all the things that might have been
but your silence comes back all too soon
beneath this sky and vacant moon
as I resurrect familiar tunes
and suddenly you go

patience eclipses, with thievish grace
love being too much in my care

any progress wants art, colour, bravery
locked in disdainful eternity

no cunning, no colour, little breath
I am ill-used, fully, simply desiring sleep

It feels as if the last words
I heard you say
were “Keep holding on to me
Don’t let go"
and I won’t, but I also know
that it keeps getting harder all the time
        it keeps getting harder all the time

I guess there are still some things
you just don’t understand
about me and where I’ve been
and who I am
You thought I was a simple man to understand
but now it’s getting harder all the time
       it keeps getting harder all the time

It must be hard to read me when
you can’t look into my eyes
across the miles on a
telephone line
and I know you never mean to be unkind
but it keeps getting harder all the time
       it keeps getting harder all the time

I sit to write of emotions that
are not easily defined
about feelings I might try to hide
but can never manage to
I can only say I long to be with you
but it keeps getting harder all the time
       it keeps getting harder all the time

fantasies and the heavens
gathered in fragile moonlight
promises brightly eager
embraced beautifully
with trembling softness

now our starving swings
creak in complicated harmonies
of misunderstood goodbyes
no final tenderness
only a teacher’s regret

filthy whiskey
smoking asphalt alleyways
roaring ******* windowsills
shuddering stoops

midnight money
shaking subway traffic
neon red hotels
battered archangel blues

starving madness
sweet ecstatic ***
naked eyes lounging
******* harlequin ******

blemished evenings
hopeless
humorless
concrete amnesia
blind hungry dreams

jukebox consciousness
bald drunken incantations
suicide waitresses
the holy pavement angel

tenement jazz
weeping
dreaming
scribbling *****
screaming delight

sirens
sunrise
disgorged rivers
tender moans
pure unshaven salvation

I face this gray and solemn light
but still I live, with all my might
And when the days turn long and bright
I think that I would find it nice

I hate this season’s crystal hand
baring trees and freezing land
To have someone who understands
I think that I would find it nice

I track the slippery streets alone
Hope for hope, but I find none
I pray aloud that she’ll come home
I know she’d ease this grip of ice

And I think that I would find it nice

We trace the burden of the heart, you and I
And suffer the cold darkness together
A weary gray moon labors across the night
As we worship the seasons of our love

Time must hold its cold pen apart from regret
For a dream to write a better image
Take this sweet change and show the stars
Let your gentle dust touch my sleep

the nasty bleeding
half-written
bloodstained ******* lines
unfinished
verses

ear-piercing weeping
mournful
failed prose scribbled
pathetically
broken

to touch people’s hearts
wishing—
tears wait in shadows
stories still
unspoken

my faked dreams
shattered
my stupid mind monsters
woefully
bellow

the nasty bleeding
half-written
bloodstained ******* lines
unfinished
verses

ear-piercing weeping
mournful
failed prose scribbled
pathetically
broken

to touch people’s hearts
wishing—
tears wait in shadows
stories still
unspoken

The Question
Just out of curiosity:
How do you picture your perfect life?

The Reply
I gave this a lot of thought last night
I guess in the most basic sense:
everyone I love is near me

dangerous longing forgotten
a solitary vulnerable blur waits
gazing in miserable drunken sunlight
totally forgiving television for
its absolute ignorance

our weeping battles witnessed
bursting disappointment released
amid the blackness of a pavement meal;
highway edges remain, revealing
mother's particular trigger

dim melodies surrounding sighs
****** afternoons catching clouds
police greet the scene with delight
sitting mum; here's the hollow
definition of goodbye

The pages fade, they’re getting worn
yellowed papers creased and torn
Yet they still can take me to a world
I now can only dream of

Once I saw the future in your eyes
and I saw in it both you and me
Now there’s nothing left to see
simply things left to only dream of

You’ve always shown yourself to me
then turned and shown me to myself
But I’m not the man I tried to be
just a man I must have dreamed of

So now I find I’m looking past
the looking-glass held in your hands
Are you the girl I knew at all?
Did I really only dream you?

I pray that you’ll hold fast to your dreams
even when there's pleasure mixed with pain
Please don’t let them get away
becoming something that you'll say that
        you'd never dreamed of

you, ignorant still
your talk almost turns to courage —
as once did your poems—
around years erased

a written anniversary
memories of you and me, stirred
******* engraved with the time
when trust gifted us

no innocence pursues reward
and, once satisfied of esteem's pursuit,
it will certainly sacrifice
its inferior wisdom

nothing of pompous dignity becomes
great, no noble integrity, but it surely
brings knavish adoration which
changes its possessors much

rogues and virtue, since deceived,
fear all—unconcerned with pain themselves
never is happiness easily learned, nor
things of such a present wisdom

This full moon
rising high above these waters tonight
gleaming like a razor at its edge
Where have I seen this moon before?

This full moon
terrifying in the evening sky tonight
a silver wraith, a siren’s song
Where have I seen this moon before?

Clouds drift by but can’t obscure its light
It brings me comfort through this cold and lonely night

This full moon
I’ve seen it burning in the depths of your eyes
the glow that draws me near you like a moth
drawn from darkness to the flame

This full moon
rising high above these waters tonight
shining like that moon within your eyes
and I gently call your name

bring our lost hearts back
not to analyze again what must have passed
but to chance forgiveness

souls condemned to remember
everything, sadly, regardless of a torture
perhaps now diluted

no, forget this cruel lot between us
lost, cursed, judgment without friendship
and, unfortunately, without sleep

evenings flicker, stairs empty
a fresh letter near a telephone
these days
I always write
down my changes

winter dawn, another cloudy year
fast clock and a cool train
our mouths will fly open in
honest laughter
****** before the frozen rain

purple afternoons, wanting light
tenderly crackle against trust
only loneliness now
and mine is the weighty wait

a sharp reunion near bedside paint
secretly bite and later lick
vivid, liquid sounds
reaching this:
burning limbs that shatter the night

feathers touch, join, as if by letter
your early star
it looks angry as we eye
broken windows beyond the candles

stretching alive, tender insides
our screaming complete in the glow
crisp battles fought
to take her back—
back from a misunderstanding

water runs like red wine spilled
watch the sparkle
the wet grass darkens
anger smooths, drops  
and the exhausted birds crash

our music carries frenzied doubts
that we both still hold aloft
Oh, I am another me!
this night won't last but
tomorrow might

one-thousand tiny footsteps
trembling, bleeding, cracked and sore
dinted by a veiled and pallid marble princess
listening to a long-shattered voice

a broken innocence grows
amid years of silent birds pretending,
wordlessly, revealing fleeting green memories
hungry and helplessly hopeless angels

during bleak and violent winters
a lonely twilight shadow dreams of escape
soft prayers fancifully catching late night flights
into tomorrow morning's perfect arms

True friends trust and love indeed
while lovers think too much and bleed
Their love ends in a graceless Hell
spoiled by thinking none too well

social distancing
stay-at-home orders...
the world is finally
getting in line
with me

fear and rearranged writing
committed, disgusting drinking
holding, expecting, waiting
even now, buried like
a promise in a graveyard
chaotic with my roses
reckoning nothing but
poisonous hopes and anger

ideas,
relevant or not:
record them

I hear the past
laughing
calling
sobbing
and crawling
back on its filthy hands and knees
begging to get back in
clawing to get back in
crying out loudly
howling, chafing and aching
to get back in

i.  
events do listen
but distrust your best work
different sounds, hostilely expressed

striving for bottomless love
amid falling consequences
sensually discontented


ii.  
that critical leap
alive, whirling, voracious
promising new room to grow

engaging interactions
amid blinding love
hunger enmeshed


iii.  
complex opportunities to
examine sourly the mirror-ice:
corrosive, acute and deteriorating

completely sheltered still
by murmuring landscapes at night
perceiving conflict reborn

forgotten longing
deep custard days gone by
my morning trip: the pool, always
then, to stay swimming in the ocean
favorite lifeguards who never stared me back
boardwalk seagulls, seafood season
shops with time like windy cobwebs
the hotel, our melancholy Ferris smell
that last painful sunburn pizza and
sadder September funnel cakes

vacation

where I now walk alone
crying for dreams past
not just things

Name the feeling
but first you must recognize it
for what it is, and
realize what it is

Do it fairly specifically

Even when you use
a concrete term to describe
your feeling (ex. anger)
there is a gamut, or range:
annoyed
or raging mad?

This should be identified
clearly

pouring water in the desert

blue from lack of air—my heart

collapsed under all the wait

now I see everything again

I feel all right, and yet I feel all wrong
you look away, you say what you can
you’ve looked into my soul
now can you look into my eyes
and tell me what’s wrong with me
the way I am

a face from the past, always looking ahead
a different girl with a different name
you took hold of my hand
you can feel my hands
and have you also found a way
to feel my shame?

you’ve made me laugh, you’ve made me cry
you’ve shown me myself and a brand new start
you’ve carved your name
across my life, but why does it feel
as if you left the knife
here in my heart?

so just tell me to come to you, or stay away
I can’t seem to work this one out alone
we could be together if it’s what you want
if it’s what you need
still, I think I can make it from here
on my own

but if it’s my choice, I’ll see you again
hundreds of miles couldn’t stand in my way
but first tell me what’s wrong with me
the way I am
though they may be words I hoped to
never hear you say

How do you know what to do
When you have no idea
No idea
No idea
What to be…?

How do you know how to feel
When you have no idea
How to feel
What to say
Or just exactly what to do…?

How do you know how to live
When you have no idea
No idea
No idea
What tomorrow wants…?

How do you know what to think
Or how to live
And no idea
What to do
Or what to be
Or how to feel…?

Right now
I have no idea
No idea
Simply no idea…

Be like me and then I’ll be like you
You could do all the things that I do
Who gives a **** what you could be
when I’m giving you a chance to be like me?
A chance to be like me!

So, come on get in this cage, little girl
Come on get in this cage, little girl
Be more like me…
It’s all the rage

Her echoing screams don’t convince her
until she feels her fists and forearms splinter
Oh, she’ll soon give up all the struggle
when she finally realizes being like me
is so much less trouble
so much less trouble

So, stop pounding on that cage, little girl
Stop pounding on that cage, little girl
Be more like me…
It’s all the rage

Ha! Bite you lip until it bleeds
Scratch until your nails break
My whispers are as soft and moist
as a pillow on your face
Stop that muffled wailing
so I can tell you who you are
Yes, you can finally fit in, girl
when you’re gone without a trace
Be more like me…
I’ll set you free

You face and body look so thin
I don’t really want to lock you in
You’d be so refreshed, you’d feel so new
if you would just stop being so much like you
so very much like you

So, swallow all that rage, little girl
Stop rattling your cage, little girl
There’s no more battle to be waged, little girl
You’re just going through a stage, little girl
You really should act your age, little girl
Now be quiet in that cage, little girl
Be more like me…
It’s all the rage
oh, yes, it’s all the rage!

not wholly betaken
as a person, disgusted
forever expecting
and drinking the poison

not wholly betaken
a dead-perfect graveyard
of memory, of sun
and of promises soiled

nothing was waiting
no, nothing was worth it
nothing, no
nothing
—no other things

yet no other person
could ever have been
so wholly betaken
or so it seems

no, no, no—no!
not so wholly betaken, no
never, not ever
so wholly betaken
     so wholly betaken
     so wholly betaken
never, not ever
     so wholly betaken as I

mixed layers of alcohol thoughts—asleep
collapsed—freely replaying frozen cycles of sins
that biting absence of happiness, permanent:
the perfect winter-silent footsteps of a man

do not disturb my wishing anymore
my situation, body and time
will shape my own bed
accentuating rapture—
mutual pleasure ours
unimaginable sleep
without pillows—
I’m vulnerable
far too vulnerable
and you’re someone
I wish I’d never dreamt

I wonder sometimes
if you knew me every day now
if you would even like me anymore

Joy seems so far away now
and we used to feel it all the time

You carry a hungry heart
outside without help
Divine, burning windows
behind locks, beside sad smiles
that devour the fine light air:
They’re perfect warmth

Oh, rise breeze, cry forever
Whisper soft, hopeful comfort
Open that same courageous list
of autumn-worn memories
Mine flex—break!—under lost words
into bitterly different sounds

Soar inside the space there
Pass the sleepy crimson trees
insatiable delight, flying wonders
beautiful labors, racing the midnight
yet shaping only sore dawns because
I overlooked my lasting desire

Draw new recovery with me
in other ripe and formal strokes
Golden water tumbling down
lifting bubbles, trying to comment
whenever that same message listens
and always winks this time of year

Yesterday’s door, so up-to-date
Why chance a giggle, merely
to forget, a chance to lean on that glass
and borrow those three paper lines—
straight from where we’d dropped off—
as if their call might later amaze us

when numbs the autumn wind
I panic, dear
and see the changing light
of pastures and riven houses

solitude meets me yet again
moments change
I change, I without nerve
who once might have onward leapt

but you, entranced
you, who cannot ever be patient
ever longing to meet
now, as in our first garden

flowers, sunbeams, trees
nourished by light and passion
once housed in exaltation
now inert in landlocked slumber

they became an unchanging place
that fits not so easily these days
where time, in its patient receptacle
learns to wait