Roam my beach
Where proof gets stranded
With every inch of water.
I will keep my secret shelter
In the dunes.

Here I dig to cover
(As the Nile's favourites once endured)
Ones like me.
I think.
I too built my sphynx to oulast
The odds, the waves,
And time.

Past the lawns of lakeshore
The family still waits
For the feast.
As for the calf, save the leather.
Rings don't look good on me.
What will come from all the rejoicing.
Oh god!

My brothers, Jake and Ben, understand:
The inheritance was never mine alone.
Let the feast begin.
Save me a seat.

I made love
a few days ago
to an unattractive girl
in a Doors t shirt

at 7:30 AM
as the sun came up
over the apartment
rooftops.

The morning birds
were singing a song
that was both beautiful
ad melancholic,

to herald the occasion.
My synapses fired off
and my adrenaline said
"yes" and my heart

shrunk away shyly.
When it was over I had
a cigarette that smelled
better than she did.

She tasted like
cigarettes and red wine
and I had no choice
but to let myself in

to the colossal void
of human intimacy.
The door opened and
beckoned me

with loving fingers
and opened palms.
Her lips caressed
the flesh of my neck

and gave me chills.
She held me in her hand.
She held me in her mouth.
Guilt

overwhelmed my
ugly spirit, my ugly
face. But these are doors
that must be breached

if one is to be a man;
more importantly,
a poet.

A girl
her skin the color of the pearls
was listening for
the angels, curled up
beneath a dogwood tree