Train baring down on the ex-lover
Like a shell casing: silver coffin.
He hasn’t told her yet, still he
Summoned her here. And so
Onto the old meeting-place.

Careless gestures, there follows a
Long walk. Down the trail that
Speaks clearer left undisturbed.
After all, the nature of things.
The light bright though lacking luster
Refracted through the tangled cords
Of ivy, tree limbs -

A festival of dead leaves.
Warmed mud envelops soles
Engorging them like bloodrush
As a half-loving couple trek on.
It feels like autumn when spring comes

As winter is bowing out again.
He feels that way two, three
Times a year; wishing it remained
Taunting circularity, he plods on.
No escape.

Run up that concrete flight. Assess the scene and know that’s it’s not alright.
And push the hair aside - like moving ivy out of the windows of those glassy eyes.

Check for that heartbeat sign. The steady rhythm that helps determine if you’ve still got time. But it’s the pulse that you just can’t find. Nothing but the the bloodrush beat behind an aching mind.

So cover what you can with a jacket to keep from prying eyes. Let out a tremble and a silent sigh. Pick him up and take him out of sight and know that things won’t ever be alright.

Any time
a girl
in a tight black dress,
with a little body
walks by...

I have to sit at my desk.
Quiet as ****.
With my hand in my pocket
telling my ****
to shut up,
as it starts to go berserk
with the bloodrush.

(to nien cheng)

to the shudder
and split

of skin
the rip

of breath
the wet

wings
folding un

folding
in a bloodrush

of color
the first pull

onto the air
the first rise

into the notes
only you can hear


                                             touch tongue to

                                                   each cup
                                                 each chalice
                                              each open hand
                                                     of god


what urged you
from your church?

what inspired the wind
to wake you?