I..am a collector of words;
Words that weave together
To form the clauses
that blossom into stories; people’s stories.
Words that keep secrets, spin lies,
Howl profound confessions from the rooftops of minds
Rushing out and over the ledges of lips to fall
On ears that do not listen—floating
Story after story, finally reaching the ground—forgotten.

On the sidewalk lay the slain and mangled things;
Victims of gravity—of silence that refused to break—
Of ears that refused to listen.

i… am the undertaker of the alphabet city.
I pick up the fallen, garbled, and lifeless;
Carting them away to the depths of my mind
Cataloguing, keeping, revering the reverberating vibrations.
my ears hear what is yearning to be heard
they acknowledge the wants of language.

I practice the Resuscitation of monologues
and the Defibrillation of forgotten phrases
an EMT of etymology,
I coagulate the bloodied and heartfelt confessions of lovers
suturing the spaces between breathless sentences.

prophetic Disambiguations clutch at gray matter and claw through flesh
tearing the tethered syllables from which meanings are formed.

I twist plot like a lemon twists martinis
Weaving tales that intertwine like the digits in math
or my hands when you held them in your own.
clasped shut.

tongue-tied is just another term for french kiss
and it is hard for you to find the right words to say
because I, a collector, have caught every last one from your lips.

and as the western slavs took to roman calibration and the eastern slavs took to reinterpreting greek with cyrillic, both the eastern and the western slavs lost sight of their pagan "ordeal" by forgetting their once fabled fathers in the stately category of gods, so while the eastern slavs continued to cling so desperately to woman kneeling in shawls by the altar of "innocent" sacrifice, the western slavs experienced a pagan revival on calton hill - so within all this being done, roman lettering had to undue the theological plagiarism of turning zeus into jupiter and jesus into jehovah on that mighty trident of poseidon. (oh... is it really that desperate and annoying and childish to use these nouns? i'd like to see you replace zeus et al. with: hydroxypropyl starch phosphate... or sodium lauroamphoacetate, although i admit, there's one rational and scientific concession to this, zeus et al. are all imaginary nouns, a bit like √-1ª.)*

on the shore of loch lomond
i was seduced by zeus to revive
polytheism in earnest with a stern gazing eye,
for zeus heard of the satisfaction of yahweh(ª although
this noun isn't... because why would rabbis
pain over yhwh with ha ha he he hi hi hu hu ** **
disambiguations, while the greeks
didn't ze ze za za is is us us es es os os zi zi zu zu
but instead allowed aristotelian musings?)
at the establishment of the state of israel,
(ah ****... had the pictures once...
but words are better than pictures
since pictures are a blockage of memory’s revival
while words penetrate -
although the damnable thing is,
i don’t remember what i said)
then too i saw hades seal the revival having turned
himself into cerberus in the forest of my resentments
unnamed just above bedford’s forest.

Alone


Unfolding...

I am mourning before the dawn
unveiling
crumpled bedspread sheets
a hollow space
where comfort once found
your slumber deep,
I find an echo
of your breath
as my tears interrupt
a yawn / a stretch

while trust feels like a home
invasion,
a **** save for the flesh...

I am a trail of moisture
upon the cheeks, the searching
throughout a graveyard home
yielding empty halls,
bleak,
of no fruition / a tomb;

I am the ache within
Darkly,
My harsh and sordid
imagination / disambiguations
roaming
To thoughts of you
in someone else's fever
a slicing cut that opens
and equals that pain

unleashing avalanche of blood
but it's only a crimson thought
which floods,
again & again...

I’m in that home, now
kept unkempt
like the dust on portraits’
sepia gloom… and
the sound of bare feet
clapping
hardest upon wooden floors

In a saloon
lacking conversations
without a care taken
of why / from where / or whom

I once had strength
which waned
Like the more ocean waves
punch the cliffs and shore,
my reserves began again to drain.
I collapse into bed
On pillows, I lay.

I am the hope which wants
what lived once before
Loud out-cries' / begets prayers
to ancestral sky
fearful hearts and minds
life alive yet
Afraid
to die….in due
Time
            I am a tomorrow of love yet made
inept of any trust
I have been blind told to break...
            (My iron will to rust)
I am alone
since gone are the yesterdays
you romanced such secrets
with escapades
(grinders found in spades)
I am the hush that must escape

never getting to know
the calligraphy & the colors,
all the facets of love's very face,

unfeeling
replaced
I am a violin
from some distant space,
far and away
a wish
a yearning
as California’s burning

Asking kindly

Love me
if only
for the sake of today
for I am
lonely...
for I am the light
each night

unfolding...

Unfolding...

I am mourning before the dawn
unveiling
crumpled bedspread sheets
a hollow space
where comfort once found
your slumber deep,
I find an echo
of your breath
as my tears interrupt
a yawn / a stretch

while trust feels like a home
invasion,
a **** save for the flesh...

I am a trail of moisture
upon the cheeks, the searching
throughout a graveyard home
yielding empty halls,
bleak,
of no fruition / a tomb;

I am the ache within
Darkly,
My harsh and sordid
imagination / disambiguations
roaming
To thoughts of you
in someone else's fever
a slicing cut that opens
and equals that pain

unleashing avalanche of blood
but it's only a crimson thought
which floods,
again & again...

I’m in that home, now
kept unkempt
like the dust on portraits’
sepia gloom… and
the sound of bare feet
clapping
hardest upon wooden floors

In a saloon
lacking conversations
without a care taken
of why / from where / or whom

I once had strength
which waned
Like the more ocean waves
punch the cliffs and shore,
my reserves began again to drain.
I collapse into bed,
On pillows, lay.

I am the hope which wants
what once had breath before
Long ago
the loud cry— begotten prayers
to ancestral sky
fearful Old hearts and minds
One’s life alive yet
Afraid
to die….in due Time
           
I am a tomorrow of love yet made

inept of any trust
I have been blind told to break...
(My iron will to rust)
I am alone
since gone are those yesterdays
you romanced such secrets
with escapades
(grinders found in spades)
I am the hush that must escape
never getting to know
the calligraphy & the colors,
all the facets of love's very face,
unfeeling
replaced

I am a violin
from some distant space,
far and away
a wish
a yearning
as California’s burning
whilst
Asking kindly

Love me
if only
for the sake of today
for I am
lonely...
for I am the light
each night

unfolding...