when my son was younger
he asked -

how old are the mountains
from where did the First People come
why does the sun sleep in the ocean
what is the color of rain

now that my son is older
stronger, wiser and bolder
he asks -

how old are the mountains...
...what is the color of rain


some things don't change.

Please know I love you
For all that its worth
Had I the power
I'd slow down the Earth
Keep day from the night
Our lovers moon never setting
Knowing I can't is truly upsetting
You've a piece of my heart
I'll never get back
But the Earth is slipping from my grasp
I can't hold it back
I don't want this to end
Our love or this night
So every sunset
I'll hold back the Earth
And pray for endless night

record breaking amnesia,
don't remember how to love you,

screaming,
  you aim for my face,

I strike for the gut,
where the misery
has nestled in disguise,
symptoms
come in binges,
don't think about
it stretching,
    lasting,
    coming back again,
anger,
pain,
hatred,
     you are blood,
      and I still can't pretend,

  record breaking amnesia,
  don't remember how to love you,

you provide strings
with your support,
meanings
checked at the door,
meaning,
you attach and consume
before we go forth,

  and, I
  just asked for help,
    not a third hand to feed me,
    not a list of nasty names,
    not a knife in the back,
    not another family member trying to bleed me,

honesty, clarity, hope:

record breaking amnesia,
don't remember how to love you

pretty-eyed girl,
your underbelly's pink,
green, deep time,

don't know what you see in me,
I overcook things,
burn my mouth, trying to speak,

as
we daggle our already wet feet
over the pits of dog-bitten territory,

you always scratch first,

  but I dig deepest,

                 I guess, secretly,
                       I'm ready to see you go,

             far away, where the screams can't bind you,
                            and all the guilt quietly fades away,
                                 where you're comfortable, forever,
                             and your days remain the same, always
                                     where words don't come out
                                                      all ******,
                                              and your pretty thoughts
                                                    untangle at the feet,

                              where love can loop endlessly,
                                 and the old me is waiting

I was just thinking
of kisses
& a red car
& the feeling of
my hair laced
in your fingers.

& I was thinking of summer—
of thunderstorms
[making your eyes wild
& your grin wide.]
I thought of
Eightthousandeighthundred&fourteenmiles;
& of fourteen hours & what
a difference they make
[when I live as you sleep,
& I sleep as you live.]

& I thought of the magic
that gives me a
sight of your face.
even though an ocean &
washingtonidahomontanasouthdakotaiowa&illinois; keep us apart.

I thought of your hands on my face
& lightning over a soccer field
I remember safety & danger
Fear & peace.
& pondering upon prickly beards
& words [so often unspoken]
being birthed.

&

Smiling, I missed my train stop.

You used to sing with your whole body—
eyes closed
hands outstretched.
& I’m a little uncertain
why you clasped your fists
& opened your eyes,
& restrained the music in your body.
Maybe it was sobering for you
to embrace great change,
to begin to question
all the truths you once felt
certain of and swayed out of your body.
the music became angry
& your smooth forehead
furrowed  with woe.
There is a silence in the place of
the loud, unapologetic, out-of-tune
vocals that sprung from the core
of your body.
in that cavernous container for the soul.

Manhood now covers the cheerful cacophony of childhood
loudly released with joy.
& childhood would be welcomed to return
if you might sing again.

I imagine they will look at me with
Patronizing incredulity
When they ask “So, you love him?”
& I unblinkingly answer
“yes”
here they will chuckle with great
condescension and worry,
believing I don’t understand the meaning.
Perhaps, they are right.
The trouble is:
I don’t like him.
It’s not merely that.
I am somewhere between
I-am-mildly-interested
I-like-him
& I-am-going-to-marry-him.
Which, in the smallest of my mother tongue, leaves me
With love.
I love him, in my way.
In the way I—with twenty years behind me—believe is love.

Here, somewhere between
my coffee and your juice,
my potatoes and your eggs,
there are five,
maybe seven,
chairs that sketch a trail
to your strategically placed shoulders
that trace your back,
which is hunched
and faced toward me.
I didn’t know, then, that
These five to seven chairs would
More loudly
Say such magnanimous words.

Give me back my broken night
my mirrored room, my secret life
it's lonely here,
there's no one left to torture
Give me absolute control
over every living soul
And lie beside me, baby,
that's an order!
Give me crack and **** ***
Take the only tree that's left
and stuff it up the hole
in your culture
Give me back the Berlin wall
give me Stalin and St Paul
I've seen the future, brother:
it is ******.
Things are going to slide, slide in all directions
Won't be nothing
Nothing you can measure anymore
The blizzard, the blizzard of the world
has crossed the threshold
and it has overturned
the order of the soul
When they said REPENT REPENT
I wonder what they meant
When they said REPENT REPENT
I wonder what they meant
When they said REPENT REPENT
I wonder what they meant
You don't know me from the wind
you never will, you never did
I'm the little jew
who wrote the Bible
I've seen the nations rise and fall
I've heard their stories, heard them all
but love's the only engine of survival
Your servant here, he has been told
to say it clear, to say it cold:
It's over, it ain't going
any further
And now the wheels of heaven stop
you feel the devil's riding crop
Get ready for the future:
it is ******
Things are going to slide ...
There'll be the breaking of the ancient
western code
Your private life will suddenly explode
There'll be phantoms
There'll be fires on the road
and the white man dancing
You'll see a woman
hanging upside down
her features covered by her fallen gown
and all the lousy little poets
coming round
tryin' to sound like Charlie Manson
and the white man dancin'
Give me back the Berlin wall
Give me Stalin and St Paul
Give me Christ
or give me Hiroshima
Destroy another fetus now
We don't like children anyhow
I've seen the future, baby:
it is ******
Things are going to slide ...
When they said REPENT REPENT ...