He loves
with rapt attention
his nearest neighbor
an unattainable beauty
a temptress
veiled in aquamarine
and evergreen
she has forever been
his only muse

he reaches
invisible fingers
across the void
seeking warm earth
against the bone
chilling blackness
for he cannot
turn to face
the sun

she is breathless
beneath his fullness
her every landscape
willingly unfurls
his forceful touch
swings her tide
from crest to ebb
she can only spin
in ecstacy

she memorizes
each scar
on his luminous skin
for she is wise
to his lunar ways
love that borrows light
to show its face
is surely meant
to wane

When
cheaters and liars
rise to the top of the polls

When genocidal speech
wanna be torturers
let their goals unfold
advocating killing relatives
Something every drug lord knows

When words don't mean anything
Images are everything
When words and images disconnect
When words don't work

It's what we call psychosis
in the psych biz

We're all thinking
That can't happen here

A cousin they call Germany
Refined
Civilized
Educated
Defined art
Music
Ethics

Found out exactly what every **** head
knows when you go too far
There's gonna be advanced window patrol
Getting out the duct tape
Wrapping up the house
Can't let any light
in or out
You may end up in leather restraints
On a plastic sheet on a metal bed

America better call the crisis hotline
Stand in line for same day services

5150/Legal 2000/72 hour commitment
Being a danger to self and others
Rapidly becoming gravely disabled

Hold on, I'll write that Hold now

Bring out the atypicals
Risperdal Zyprexa Serequil
Take an Ativan
Take a Zanax
**** it take a ******

If you don't come back down now
Find the ground

You'll be okay
In a decade or three
The suffering of course
Will be burns in the third degree

Psychosis can be unkind

All civilizations have their day
Incline
Recline
Decline

It can't happen here?
Chaotic brutality knocking on the door
You gotta know what's in store

We need an intervention
Breathe it back on in
It can still be okay

Reality check

Words sometimes mean something
And people sometimes mean what they say

And though
Images dissolve
Evolve
Fracture and split

Those that are seeing and hearing
What's going on
are holding their breath
Wondering how crazy it's really all gonna get.

I see two fire trucks pass each other
going opposite directions.
As I’m trying to think of a clever metaphor
for poor planning
I remind myself that at least one family
is standing in a thigh high pile of fine ash
that was their home
just an hour ago.
Maybe two families.
These thoughts and others haunt me when I’m pulled from my duck footed sidewalk reverie
by a lottery ticket stuck in the riff-raff that separates
Gateway Ave from the parking lot of the Nervous Hospital.
It is laid bare like a mugging victim;
crumpled up and inches from the gutter.
That was someone’s dream
just a day ago.
Think I’ll cross the street-
give that homeless vet a dollar.
It’s my last one.
My house has fleas, but
it ain’t on fire.

I'm not one for small talk
because if we're being honest no one really cares
about how you're doing and are just asking to be polite.
But you knew that.
I'm not a fan of being the center of attention
even though I often have the desire to be held and feel wanted
because I'm constantly working on my self-confidence.
But you knew that.
I don't like the dark
because it envelopes me when I can't sleep
and I go over that night when he left and you remained the one person
I could count on.
But you know that.
Five years ago there weren't empty words
we both cared more about the other than ourselves,
we smiled so much our faces hurt.
Looking up at the stars knowing I never had to be alone in the darkness
that surrounded me.
You'll never know how much all that meant
to me; how you loved me unconditionally.
But I have a secret that was never shared. I regret
walking away. I never stopped loving you.
And now you know that too.

-
You recount in detail the three old ladies
outside of the diner,
how you listened in as they  
described the sky to one another.
One traced the swirls of the clouds
with trembling hands;
you thought it so beautiful,
you could have cried.
-
The record player is spinning the blues
through a gravelly veil.
I anticipate the moment
you lift your hand to your heart,
and exclaim:
"I love this next line!"
-
Sadness creeps in late through
your living room window
like the moon diving
into the ocean;
a wave of grief consumes you,
violent and unforgiving,
as you pour us another glass of
cheap white wine.
-
I feel like a thief in the night
when I think about you
on the train ride home,
as city blocks turn to fields,
and back to blocks again.
There is something blasphemous
about seeing you so clear.