"infinitesimally" poems
I love you Snowflake
I hope you know wherever you float
let the winds carry you home
you can come my way
& melt on my tongue
my little fractal of inspiration
infinitesimally spiraling
& cascading into a blizzard of diamonds
illuminates my mind
This is what divines sung of
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 3:49 AM UTC
Not an enigmatic smile
Like the constipated, condescending smirk
Adorning, and inexplicably adored, on the Mona Lisa's smug face;
But a smile to justify God's existence;
A smile that, when dazzlingly bestowed
Upon one fortunate soul, caught rabbit-like in its
Wondrous radiance, infinitesimally, and cumulatively,
Increases the World's joy. Where every living thing -
Whatever exists on the planet, imperceptibly hums
To a new, more celestial pitch -
An effervescent vibration celebrating Life's mysteries:
A reason for existence.
It's a smile to make an Alchemist cry -
Turning a leaden heart to gold in an instant.
It's a smile to make a mediocre poet struggle
To articulate an adequate description
Using all the hyperbole, simile and metaphor at his limited disposal.
Inestimably more brilliant, and more valuable,
Than the most flawless diamond ever found -
And, perhaps, just as rare.
Thankfully, a renewable resource,
Enabled to enlighten and heat
The recesses of any beneficiary's
Heart and invigorate their soul.
Helen may have caused a thousand ships to sail,
Destroying a nation as a consequence;
And Cleopatra nearly caused the collapse of an Empire;
But Tao's smile, unleashed in all its glory
Could melt the Antarctic ice-sheet -
Drowning us all in its magnificence.
Mayan's have a myth that states such a smile
Only comes around once every twelve thousand years,
In the Great Galactic turning.
Einstein's General Theory of Relativity
Is often mistakenly considered to concern gravity,
But is, in fact, concerned with one's relative position
To Tao's smile - an inescapable vortex of pleasure.
No music conceived of the fabled Celestial Spheres
Compares to the silent, ethereal harmonies tattooing my heart
Whenever, beacon-like, that smile flashes fleetingly in my direction.
And Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle has not a Quantum core,
But revolves around the statistical uncertainty of being blessed
With the ephemeral thrill of a benign grim.
Mar 6, 2014
Mar 6, 2014 at 9:49 AM UTC
. @
@ @
@ @
@ @
@ @
@ @ @ @ @ @
america, americultus, americate, dubiously **********
::: our gold-flecked bodies.
blackbirdian danceparty, i'll go.
washed-up beach bottles and all our feet amongst them curling time.
teens dream in orchid; they wait for stars and dark and los hombres of good dust.
they wait on eyes, and on embers, on belly belly.
jellyfish flashlight shrine.
we eat acid and strawberries and butter in the cemetery,
and feed foxes lizards face first :::
us lost ghouls on school-nights.
flash tag jazz, and yellow bicycles.
::: that hot eternal light.
that candy colored smoke don't smoke; go south on her body.
then thoughts form thoughts form action, form twangs all tuned to air.
& we, as notes, we notes harp like light
to dust.
our glistering hormonal thrusts beneath sheath of liquid love. her eyes,
with those multi-speckled strands
infinitesimally drunk :::
seed from my ****
pearled halo: smoke above my head.
::: waves and machines and weekends. filtered by the long ****
of existence.
boys wait in rooms of hotels for more drugs, and the girls bringing them.
like caterpillars on silky thin treadways,
with nothing but the flavor of our passions to ignite the way. we
exacerbate the boundaries of our intentions. we
curl under sheets, bending sheets of light and sound. we
flakey emaciated flakes. [sequence suffered time in motion] we
dirt. it’s what we are; dirt.
we are druggernauts, tasting ourselves along the iridescent brim.
::: we crawl up cross-glowing hillsides toward portals and faraway
bleep-blorps of hot god-head calibration.
we sticky-crackle go burn. [nature puzzles]
the brain shifts back; twenty-one grams they say the soul weighs.
they say things.
cherry blossom tree tips in the dark.
tele-portal surfing with an intergalactic pizza priest, and his satchel of secret sauce.
he heaves in the corner; rebirth :::
tendrils pulled tight, everybody **** chung…
Apr 3, 2014
Apr 3, 2014 at 3:44 PM UTC
The undeniable sense of presence, seen through the realms of deception...
Amidst the very capillaries strung infinitesimally throughout our bodies...
Overwhelming at times, the very concept cripples our thoughts,
Circling us back to seemingly endless questions -
Endless roads without a point of reference,
Leaving us standing in a dark crowded space searching for the unreachable light...
Yet, the meaning behind the unseen presence forces the deluded mind to forge on -
Stretching our morbid ideals even further...
Leaving us the inhibited beings we possess...
Still concluding at plebeian answers -
Fitting, yet discouraging...
The common capacity of our restraining thought process, leaves us almost hopeless to accumulate the information needed to fulfill our determining destination...
But it is that feeling,
That inkling sensation of the undeniable presence that keeps us searching -
That gives us hope...
And in that minute innovative state we dwell on what could be...
Sep 13, 2012
Sep 13, 2012 at 9:05 PM UTC
The Anger within me is boiling
The situation seems out of control
The fight or flight responses
Is as primal as it can be.
The amygdala, kicks in
And takes over for me.
But why blame it on primal
Cause religion teaches another
Created by the Father
Born of free will are we.
The choice of being noble
Or primal is in my capacity
So I decide to test my confusion
And see who lives inside of me
A person of free will or
A carnal nature of me.
So when I encounter situations
Which would otherwise anger me
I'd like to bellow in rage
I'd like to make believe
Here my animal is taking over
I can feel his grip over me
The struggle within me is stronger
The ground I'm loosing steadily
I laugh! Where are you free will?
See whose got me now in his grip
And then in the flash of the moment
I see the irony!
Suddenly as if the scene's changed
The reactor becomes the actor
Letting go of a long sigh
The drama comes to a halt.
For in that moment, free will kicked in
My freedom I realized
Yes we are carnal beings
And it's not surprising
Because animals behave just as we
But we are armed with an arsenal
To be infinitesimally good
To be heavenly
If only we listen to our inner wealth
Telling us to above all rise
When we give vent to our free will.
It's that moment to decide.
Anger is worst of the lot of monsters
But alone he's usually not.
He has a lot of companions
His minions are all about.
This matter is not simple
Don't get bogged down in psychiatry
Practice makes one perfect
Tackle your fears and threats
Handle each one steadily
Before long you'll know the signs
Arm yourself with humility
His minions will try wreak havoc
And wound your ability
So stop the amygdala from taking over
Ask yourself is it worth?
What is the worse that could happen
if things didn't go your way.
The answer will be astonishing
When you've discovered your treasure
You'll find the demon's flown
What a relief it will be
You'll feel blessed abundantly
Sep 9, 2014
Sep 9, 2014 at 9:54 AM UTC
am I awake dreaming that I am asleep
or perhaps asleep dreaming that I am awake
yet I do dream. I dream of Brazil
where antique rages like great storms
announce themselves with a small breeze
that stands against rust in mighty waves
and stares at the bleak mid winter
eyes of oppression and by
crimson haste, dithers in despair
and watches the pages
that unleash such rages
become the cobalt colour of tombstones
who ***** themselves behind the eyes
in dramatic stages
yet is the announcement of all these
historic rages
that are outrageous
placed upon blank pages
that butchers compassion
which is almost infinitesimally brief
yet so poignant and dislocating
has a momentarily almost faint identity
that singles indefinable loss
that is expressed in all known language
and splinters the mind into dark deep waters
that the only thing that can be
trusted is this moment, this moment
is the realisation, so powerful
that one cannot do otherwise
but confront it and in so doing
feel the immense vibration of change
Jun 22, 2013
Jun 22, 2013 at 11:45 AM UTC
A sneer,
A snide
remark
graces your skin,
Tingling despite
the smile.
I'm disgusted.
I'm irate.
I'm alive and
burning with rage.
I'm storming.
Clouds gather
At my fingertips,
Clouds gather at my
Lips.
The lower
Are troubled,
Churning and spurning
The gentle hand
That often lies.
The upper are
Sweet, soft,
Cotton candy
Falsities,
Covering up any memory
Of personal taste,
Of individuality.
I exist to please.
I'm a saucy
Sort of servant.
I'm disgusted.
I'm irate.
I'm alive and
Burning with rage.
I'm forming.
Forming infinitesimally
Tiny shapes,
Bits of broken
Anger and slander
Printed fresh like
A book.
Smaller and smaller
The pieces will shrink,
Pushed away
Into
The farthest
Corner of my cortex.
Flash,
Bam,
And with a puff of smoke
It's almost gone.
I'm a magician.
I'm disgusted.
I'm irate.
I'm whatever
You please.
I'm cotton candy
Shit-sticking,
White and pliable;
Olive will give away
If you just keep hitting.
I'm disgusted.
I'm irate.
I'm barely hanging on.
I'm burning
With rage.
But,
I'm alive.
Yes,
I'm alive.
Aug 14, 2010
Aug 14, 2010 at 11:20 AM UTC
You'd be pretty lucky,
if you caught my eyes
staring back into yours.
I'd like to tell you a good reason,
weave a tale of heartwarming lies,
Alas, there's no story behind my evasive eyes.
I nod when I mean to scream 'yes'
To every whim you have.
I smile when I mean to laugh.
I compliment you with the most beautiful of words,
In my silence, I hope you hear me say.
I was born a misdirecting sign-post,
hoping to lead you the right way.
If you'd know me, I'd like to believe,
You'd fall in love with me.
Indefinitely. Instantly.
But in this infinitesimally small moment
that we share,
In an obnoxiously loud world that we stay,
That little space between us is all it takes
For all that is unsaid to lose its way.
If you'd know me, I'd like to believe,
You'd fall in love with me.
Instantly. Indefinitely.
If you'd give me a while,
You could hear, you could see.
You'd know how hopelessly in love I am,
as inarticulate as my thoughts may be.
But with the years it has learned,
This stupid, hopeless heart of mine.
That it simply does not have the luxury of time.
Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 2:11 PM UTC
I remember sitting
On the tiny porch
Of my dad’s home
Offended by the sun
That continued to sink and set
Without pausing to acknowledge
My dad’s passing.
Offended by the cars
That continued on the highway;
Callous indifference, it seemed to me.
Even the birds at their feeder
Greedily fed and failed to look up
To mark the loss of their benefactor.
I found myself
Silently demanding condolences
In every encounter.
Not for the sympathy,
Or worse, pity,
But for the acknowledgement
That he was here
And now he’s gone,
And something,
However infinitesimally small
In the scopeless universe,
Has changed.
I have two cousins.
The first called my dad
Every month.
His regular call came
During the last days.
The decline surprised him.
He took a deep breath
And asked for speakerphone
Near my dad.
He told my dad
How much my dad had
Influenced his life;
How as a child,
he anticipated a visit from my dad
Like kids stay up to see Santa;
How my dad made my cousin feel
Like he was the most important kid
In the wide world;
How my dad gave my cousin
The otherwise unavailable
Sustenance of heart
Young boys need;
How my cousin had strived to be
Like my dad
And how he hoped
His own children see in him
What he saw in my dad.
That was acknowledgement,
Profound acknowledgement.
My second cousin called
Shortly after the first.
He had heard
That my dad was dying.
He did not ask
To speak with my dad.
He wanted to tell me
To call him
As soon as memorial
Arrangements were made
So that he could purchase
Discounted airline tickets,
To include a subsequent visit
To his son who lives
In the southern part of the state.
My dad was still living.
That, too, acknowledged something,
And served to impel my pending decision.
So I opted for
A less conventional
Memorial ritual
That required neither
Plane tickets nor attendance
Nor a frozen smile reception.
I would not suffer
Insincere acknowledgement.
I am sure I scandalized
Many acquaintances of my dad
Who enjoyed the social conventions of
The anticipated gathering
If only to point out the deficiencies
Of the event and the host.
I am sure I offended
And frustrated
And embittered
One of my cousins.
The other cousin thought
My dad would have preferred
Sincerity
Over a pantomime.
I would suffer
The disfavor and distaste
Of the discontented
With no difficulty.
Nov 10, 2018
Nov 10, 2018 at 9:59 PM UTC
I can't sleep. I don't want to sleep. I don't know which it is but it's happening, now and infinitesimally forever my eyes are open and not shutting down for the day, not recharging, not doing anything but waiting for something to see and perceive and solve, a problem to appear before them and present itself begging to be taken in and toyed with like a Rubik's cube. I don't want to sleep because sleep is giving up on the day, it's saying the day is over and it's giving up the chance to accomplish the innumerable tasks yet to be accomplished before I sleep that I haven't done and won't do if I sleep now, if I lie down in that bed and pull covers over my head and let myself drift away. I don't want to drift away, can't let it happen, can't let go of control over really the only thing I have left to control which is when and if I go to sleep so I don't, I force myself not to, I expunge the records of thought from my head into a text box and hope that the soft rattling that had droned there softens because now after all of this my eyelids get heavy and I may have to let sleep win, give up the day, defeated, fight again tomorrow because I'm tired. I'm tired. I'm tired of fighting, fighting against the minute tedium tripping along, fighting against transcendental ecclesiastical endlessness, tired of fighting when all I do is get bloodied and bruised, tired of fighting when I can't win because I'm tired. Rest now. Fight again tomorrow.
Feb 4, 2014
Feb 4, 2014 at 1:44 AM UTC
I look at you .. your countenance and demeneour .. how one eyes follows the other and curls of your hair address this courtship unknowingly .. and at a gaze when all at once, my eyes brush off your glance, . hiding in plain sight, what our gentle nudges couldn't hide ..
You do not say .. in fear and worry for what might, I do not ask .. illusions of my habits overcomes.. and yet, we nurture that infinitesimally small fire .. hoping meekly in our hearts .. that something or some force would cater to our reconciliation .. but it never does.
Nov 19, 2020
Nov 19, 2020 at 9:51 AM UTC
I’ve sat with Silence
As she cast silhouettes
Moving in the likes
of Ballerinas across
My hair.
I’ve moved with them too.
That’s how I’ve come
To know their names
Or natures
As such:
1) The one who sold her soul to the Devil
For pennies and a dollar
So her mother could
Come off the
Corner
2) The one who put Fireflies and Rainbows
In mason jars and played make
Believe with running fingers
And a wounded
Moon
3) The one whose only trace of a father is
The bloodstain on the wall like a
Family photo with X’s over
The faces because he
Destroyed more
Than his own
Soul
4) The one who strung sorrow to the ceiling
To play its marionette with dancing
Shadows weeping and frightfully
Abandoned, hiding under
A candle in shameful
Bliss
5) The one who wandered though fields
Of whispering epitaphs that
Made nursery rhymes
From the likes of
Madness
6) The one who locked her heart in
A vault within ashen walls and
Wrote letters to stars that
Wrote it’s not her fault
She’s infinitesimally
Small
I told myself I would never return
To sleep
To dream
To surrender my mind to its own
Devices
Vices.
But here am I, Lord
Swinging with the wind
Under a purple tinged twilight
Making friends with twisted tongues,
and braided hearts slinking through the alley.
I’ve bore my heart like a cross,
Carried it past moratorium
Marching east for west
Until my frantic feet
Cease to move
Me.
Dec 3, 2012
Dec 3, 2012 at 12:11 AM UTC
Nothing but water. Millions of chemical bonds that sever bonds of the heart, infinitesimally small, but they amount to canyons of separation. On the edges of the canyon stand pieces of a whole, tied through chance equally as small that grew into something beautiful.
The ties that spanned this fluid canyon are stressed by the howling winds of uncertainty, and crashing waves of dire futures lap at this fragile twine, but it holds fast and firm. He won’t let the bond break. He stands ashore of his continent framed by ignorance of what lies beyond its coral shoals, knowing nothing of the ocean that spans his affection, or of the island where his affection finds a home.
And through the storms that threaten to rip the rope that binds him to his adoration from his blistered fingers, he can see the light that keeps his grip fast and strong. He has read Gatsby and knows the perils of ominous lights that cast shadows on placid waters, but Fitzgerald knows nothing of the tangibility of this boy’s shining beacon.
She stands, not as a faint reminder of what once was, but of a blaring beacon of all that could be, and her light pierces through the cynical fog that tries to ***** out her light.
You are my beacon. You are my light through the fog of my daily struggles, the beacon that guides me through these rocky waters, holding my hand so as not to run aground on the sandbars of doubt below me. I stay strong, and I stay hopeful, for one day the bonds of this watery divide will break, and this distance will be lessened, and as easy as folding a map to span miles, I will be there with you.
So as I stand on this shore, ignorant of the island across this canyon, I hold fast in my grip, and I would sooner be pulled into the sea than let this go, hold onto the ties that bind your heart to mine.
Sep 6, 2013
Sep 6, 2013 at 12:35 AM UTC
The skies are laced
with the designs
of the creator
lest we forget
how infinitesimally small we are –
the canvas is
drawn with a filigree
that cannot be
captured or copied
for its instant in
time and motion
are ever changing
ever beautiful
ever embracing us
in its azure
rapture.
Nov 11, 2010
Nov 11, 2010 at 11:58 PM UTC
there was never any more of you than there is now,
nor any more of me than there is now,
if we shall be heaven, let us be heaven now,
if we shall be heathens, let us be heathens now,
for you are the south of yesterday
and the north of tomorrow
for i am the west of nothing
and the east of infinity
let us love where we cross
and if we shall cross, let us cross now
and if we shall cross only once
i will make east kiss west
and i will let south kiss north
until we become infinitesimally small
towards nospace and notime
i unbecoming i
you unbecoming you
us becoming from two
infinite at the single point now
at the single moment now
where we are nothing but now
Jun 17, 2016
Jun 17, 2016 at 8:53 PM UTC
Flashing numbers; this isn't a binary
sequence but the universe has got me
wondering. 01001011010101011
combinations of 2 create infinitesimally
complicated creatures, craters, croutons,
castrations, cancers, colons, concretes,
convulsions, corn-cobs. 'Where is my
mind' by the Pixies; wish I'd never heard
it before. No simile metaphor for what's
next, swooping ultraviolent. Almost like
skin being ripped off so I'm nothing but
bone and muscle. 'With your feet in the
air and your head on the ground,' the
dam snaps and floods my Amsterdam
cheeks like New Orleans; scrambling for
roof I drown. Scrambling for roof I drown.
'Try to trick and spin it, yeah,' polka-dots
and floaters; bacteria in my eye dives into
the ocean and makes me wonder which
flew bottom and rounded-dust to eat *****
on sea-floor. 'Your head will collapse, but
there's nothing in it, and you'll ask yourself,'
mashing cellphone numbers now; mashing
cellphone needed now dad pick up please pick
up worlds end pick up mom pick up I need
to know I'm real I need to know there's truth,
'where is my mind? Where is my mind? Whee
erre is my mind?' the world fades into itself and
what crosses mind is death but no, why? No,
need. Dad picks up to my heaving sobs. Rational,
collected. Collect call. World freezes.
Jan 16, 2013
Jan 16, 2013 at 9:13 PM UTC
That dark patterned line
crossing straight the moon,
centering the frozen sphere-gate
of a misty autumn night-sky,
is not a cloud to sink down on only
and float subtly for a while
< so I can feel the aura of your skin mixing with the mine >
but it is also a five line staff
and tells me an aurally perceived absolute secret so that ,
through my hearing ,
you will
rise,
glide,
twirl
and cross
other lines,
tune my gaze
and engrave a mystic score beyond your shine,
plant each of ‘you’s,
note by note,
in ones, halves, fourths, eighths , sixteenths and ‘pi’s
in the heart of each
<beyond the clouds away from my reach>
twinkling star
so that anyone that could look up with a heart,
<maybe on a clear night sky>
would see a commencing song-
singing the dance of an ever weaving light-story
visible to those eyes with a knowing only that
<the knowing about a wish is
a wish that shall eternally be kept a secret>
has the enlightening technology to recreate a reflecting galaxy
with an authentic memory
that expands infinitesimally
<which we in our terms would say it expands by love
but in truth would not really know how
unless the terms are lost and we have got no time except to > - be now-
be now
be now with me now
and now and only now
be now and with me now
and only now and now
Would you come and meet me then?
there?
but I don’t know where… just there?
wherever all these sky lookers are
and be one of them, again ? as we did once– on a terrace
one summer night, we watched our own story under stars, among crowds while I asked for your light and you kissed me awake for eternity and so
would you let me kiss you this time - one more time
just for the last time and forget that eternity eternally this time?
Nov 13, 2014
Nov 13, 2014 at 11:37 AM UTC
she was hopping hopscotch with the children in the sunset lawn,
At the dusk her pellucid eyes would glare the intense orange..
She was hopping from one rectangle to another as he was peering love through his eyes,
The sunset veils her shadow:
Her hair vacillating on her chin and his eyes blink on her subtle smile,
She sprawled her legs at the end of the box that is drawn on the land,
She sees the rested stone through the space of her legs,
And her immediate turnabout titillated him,
horripilations tickled his flesh,
Sprawling,spanning and love placating:
Thus Susurrus smile spake to him,
She Shouted a few flying syllables as she picks the stone in the celestial joy,
Subtle zephyr billowing on her confluenced lips,
The evening zephyr as cold as her breath,
He saw her only once,but he remembers every subtle detail infinitesimally..
He only saw her once,but he couldn't forget the voice of her eyes forever...
Oct 19, 2014
Oct 19, 2014 at 1:00 PM UTC
most of us aren't in love
we're in lust
or like
or crushing or swooning or "in the honeymoon stage"
we're infatuated, "in love with the idea of love"
...lonely...
it seems silly really
that love, true love, real love
the kind that isn't a feeling in the morning that changes with your mood
is so rare, almost unattainable
like the infinitesimally small atom resting at the very tip of a needle
but we still hope
us non-lovers i mean. we strive
like gatsby for that green light we want to be (in) love(d)
we go about it different ways-- through crushes and infatuations and "s(he)'s hot" 's
but all us non-lovers
we're trying to love
Sep 7, 2013
Sep 7, 2013 at 1:39 PM UTC
tell me again
when we first did meet
when your eyes
undressed me
as your hands did roam
tell me again how my body
felt like home
tell another story that starts
with my eyes
whisper entreaties to me
that are star bursts
between my thighs
kiss special wishes that begin
at my heart
that ripple down my body
to end where they start
lick a path to my soul
drink in my essence
bathe in my mortality
ignoring my presence
tell me again
how I was first to be the one
I promise to sit still
baking infinitesimally under the sun
I'll drink in your voice
hearing all that you describe
becoming intimately drunk
on each and every sweet lie
Sep 14, 2012
Sep 14, 2012 at 5:57 AM UTC
I remember in the days when I wore overalls
And had pajamas with dinosaurs on them.
When a pinky promise was unbreakable,
And whoever could run the fastest was king.
The world was huge.
A trip to the grocery store was a great journey.
A small boat ride was a quest for the Golden Fleece.
Flying on an airplane was like going to another planet.
Then I became a teenager.
The world was smaller.
The internet had compacted it.
The media shaped it.
The elders squandered it.
And I believed them.
I saw pictures.
I saw people write about their exotic trips.
How they found the culture in India to be quite lovely,
But the temperature was over-bearing.
How they found that everyone loves their beer in Ireland,
But the greater beauty was in the landscapes.
Now I am older... ish.
But I see more truth than ever before.
They found.
They thought.
But what do I think?
What do I think of these places that I have never gone to?
To tell you the truth,
I don't know.
But that world that was once small.
That world that was so infinitesimally microscopic.
Suddenly came roaring into my head.
Venice was waiting for me to visit it!
To sail on a gondola with a beautiful Italian girl.
Paris awaited me!
To indulge in delicious cuisine!
Germany had its arms wide open!
They think they can drink?
I say, "Prost!"
The world is open and ready for adventure, my friends!
So, who's coming with me?
May 29, 2013
May 29, 2013 at 3:00 AM UTC
there is a universe inside your chest
infinitely expanding
though infinitesimally slow
at times
boundaries stretch, breathe
though confusing at times
destruction feeds growth,
dichotomous paradox forms whole,
stars implode, give way to supernovas,
give way to planets filled with lava and snow
there, inside, a universe
constantly churning,
the incessant spin of all burning
that births light and shadow
here I stand on the precipice.
here, in an amorphous dusk and dawn,
unclear if day or night
is about to kiss the horizon
unsure if I should call to moon or sun
or neither,
or you.
here in limbo, arching my spine to
sneak under the guardrail of loving
here, instinctually shoving myself
into bottlenecks and genie lamps
oh, how my gypsy soul wants to run,
yet feels so enchanted it stays, here
on the precipice,
itching to gain entrance
into the universe brimming
inside of you
there
there, inside your chest
there I said it. and I'll say it again,
and I'll say it even louder:
I confess! I'm enchanted!
I'm enamored, enthralled, enraptured,
I want my heart
to know your heart,
I want to dive chest-first into your outer space galaxy nest
an astronaut without a helmet,
I want to explore, awestruck
never trying to label, box, or understand - simply experience
your universe
there, I finally said it
I'm finally starting
to write the poems I'm afraid of,
the ones I don't want to say out loud
I'm starting to write out shadows and solar flares and floods,
starting to let my heart bleed out of my pen, cause
what the hell am I hiding from?
what are we all so scared of?
we were ****** into this strange world
blind and wet,
groping in the darkness for heaven
meant to rip ourselves open again, again
meant to feel with the depth and tempest of oceans
meant to risk and be fools and fall to meet rose-hued ends
I just want to make love with the light
of a thousand candles, a million stars, and the moon turned on
and panting
silver dripping from her tongue,
dizzy with the heat of solar undulations,
stripping down to the heart of the matter
down to the simple truth of it all:
I was born to feel,
and my god, you...
you make me feel universes
you make me feel thunder and lightning and bedroom churches and power surges
you make me feel sunrise stillness
and it makes me fall silent.
so here I am, writing the poems I'm afraid of
and sending them out, messages
in bottles, adrift
in the endless oceans of your universe
Aug 10, 2016
Aug 10, 2016 at 11:03 PM UTC
you browse through my being
with fluttering eyelash-
squinting at the unpleasantries and
tugging at your brows with nervous thumbs.
i wonder-
will you know me any better by it.
sipping from the warm marrow of old bath water and running our hands down eachothers' sides. i
watch you take another big gulp of nothing
-find your feet amidst the company of elongated creatures that walk idly on the flat- smoothed out places of the world
that stretch
far and wide like some never-ending ungodly plane. you
scallop out pieces of your knowing just to make sense out of this happening. you
forget to receive beauty in all your eyes devour-
and in all you can crave.
the stiletto legged spiders cross paths like stilted walkers, wishing they were smaller
and you
will know nothing of them but will speak as if you've known them. i
can tell
you've never known them. i
can tell
. you
extend your limbs, hands open
as wide as the sky before you, you fancy your fingers as feathers,
and your outstretched arms as wings. i
know your bones must be hollow because
i've never heard such terrible sounds from them knocking together-
drumming out strum-songs because no strings could be used to make noise
in this place
you are lonely-
feeling as empty as freshly blown glass
and with
pins sticking out of my fingertips
i cannot drum along to your sound,
the crackling scratch of a vinyl record as
a cat claws at the beige carpet and
catches like velcro loops. i
know i've
put less thought into greater things
and
you
hold me
for only one second and
you are the tear in my jeans at the knees,
the flecks of dried paint in my black eyebrows,
and
infinitesimally small particle-sized portions of us all
bouncing around in the dark parts of your irises
like over-exited electrons colliding in a
cloud
of everyday
dust,
exiled into the far corners of
heavens.
you grasp the air around you like a flightless bird i used to know and i
peel
back
everything i might of known about you before
that lash-fall instant
in which
you
smiled
Jul 30, 2012
Jul 30, 2012 at 1:13 AM UTC