i come from nowhere
being far from never
floating in a mazeless void
toward a nameless ever
and if you come across me there
wave an invisible hand
and watch my disappearing form
in this silent airless land
and make certain you remember
if you mindlessly recall
who and what and where i came from
and how i took my fall
through infinite skies of empty
past petty vacant stares
a journey with no purpose
a journey to nowhere

i'm sure she's a terrorist

she drives a stick shift

and wears sensible shoes

and everything she does
arouses my suspicion

she's up there now
in her cluttered apartment
yapping about her congressman
and the debt ceiling

i hear her every sunday
yelling at her tv set
giving attitude to
all those panelists
on the political programs

and someone told me she
sneaks off to the mall
in plaid sneakers
and has four computers
and hides her cats
in shoe boxes
whenever the property manager
comes around

and she always has a smile
for the property manager

i'm on to her and
i have a plan
that involves deadbolt locks
surveillance video
and a bugging device

she's up there now going on
about the governor

give me a break

at least he isn't driving
a stick shift

Waking from a crash of glass
Sweat pouring...hands attending
In this bright room where whispers pass
I slowly feel myself descending
You thought that only words could break me
But glass, metal, time, rain
Mingled in one reckless moment
Left me scarred, seared with pain
Somewhere in my shattered mind
Where illusion can only take me now
Scenery changed just like our lives
No one will note my final bow
You thought that only words could break me
Racing from your angry glance
Bizarre, the slow lid's eerie closing
White bulb swaying on a final dance

a blank white page stares at me

it seems to be
taunting me
daring me to fill it
with lush language
and clever rhyme schemes

around the same time i imagine
a white flag waving on a full moon
a moon swimming lazily
in a galaxy of
bright
glistening
stars

this scene of cosmic perfection
enhanced by my lopsided logic
somehow inspires me

i take a long deep breath
and my pen begins its journey

The man who hated summer
smoothes on sweet scented lotions;
his body glistens like a waxed table.

Jobless and listless, he soaks in
lemon yellow afternoons
and smiles at the irony;
the season he's never sought
is the only one he has.

Now he never reads a paper
or greets a neighbor
or mows the lawn.

Instead he simmers on a chaise lounge
in a nest of mosquitoes and heat,
his flesh taut like sutures,
his eyes drawn shut against the sun.

Darkening under a paper white sky,
he holds his breath
while the phone rings and rings and rings.

Violins straining
lights playing
on the heroine's face
her eyes misty
with suffering
the handsome hero
caresses her frail hand

suddenly
her hand rests
on the chenille bedspread
her face passive
against an ivory pillow
her eyes close
soaring voices rise
lights dim

quickly
the hero
his lady
the room
lights
colors
music
screen
theater
people
you
me
fade
out

I wasn't afraid if the Devil sent you to me. In fact, if it was the Devil then this would all make complete sense. But the thing I'm terrified of is if God was the one who brought you to me. I wondered if you were a test- some graded assignment I had to complete to get to the Gates of Heaven.

Yet after meeting you, I didn't want to ascend into the Gates of Heaven. I wanted to stay on Earth, still using 24 hours trying to figure out why we are here. I wanted to stay in Purgatory, sinking my nails into the depth the darkness while you hold me up. I wanted to descend into the hole of hell to feel comfortable in the fire with you. All I wanted was you- in each stage of hell or life. I wanted you.

You see, thats why I think God gave me you. I think God gave me a test, and I'm still not sure if I passed or not.