Never really mastered the art of intrigue,
I sometimes wish I had that skill,
Of treading light,
Of being the diva
Surrounded by a mist of aura,
Controlled in laughter,
Calculatedly revealing,
Measuredly unraveling
Her inner self.
I stomp in love,
I bare it all in love,
I laugh with abandon,
I shout with animation,
I cry in immoderation,
I never really learnt to leave
Anything for the imagination,
And it's the greatest gamble,
The toughest game,
To tear your heart out and
hold it in your palm,
And show it to them,
Look, this is how I beat,
Not many can deal
with someone this real.

The Speakers for the Dead raise their head
and speak softly and measuredly
So to be better heeded
And so to ensure that the dead can be heard.

The Speakers for the Dead dress modestly
Not drawing attention to themselves
So that the living listening can focus
And so to ensure that the dead can be heard.

The Speakers for the Dead inform themselves
Of all aspects of the life of the dead
So not to drift into speculation
And so to ensure that the dead can be heard.

The Speakers for the Dead aqaint themselves
With local language and idiom
So no misunderstanding should arise
And so to ensure that the dead can be heard.

The Speakers for the Dead
Ensure that we can be heard
By the living and the deaf
And so to ensure that the dead can be answered.

I think the truth is always right.
Duel, measuredly I do count my steps.

Tired eyes, yes, the night was sleepless.
I hope God will not leave me in the wrong.

My opponent, accepted the challenge, did not blink.
Bustling I always respect the bravest.

Yesterday's evening among the tipsy revellers,
May come up today with fresh blood pouring out.

Helen,please forgive me, later you will understand,
The hot breath only the bullet can cool up.

The day begins, my time has come.
But the coming up evening, I hope, will be starry ....

I need more souls around.
Look-
the knife I chewed up sharp
sways and dangles a glaring charm,
(and a charming glare)
double knotted on a piece of rope and
tucked under my shirt.
It bruises my breastbone when I jump.
I’m always jumping.

I don’t cut paradise into pieces anymore.
I take it all in with one quick bite.
I’m hardly chewing;
I never learned to savor
and it hasn’t rotted me out yet.

Late last week I had an idea.
I told the room:
(thirty eyes squinting,
a dozen minds listening,)
‘Let's get together and refuse
to acquire a taste for civility.’
So what do you think?
I was only speaking to you.

I've been playing a private game
all summer and I keep scoring.
I wear long skirts and eyeliner
and keep my mouth shut.
I trapeze across centuries and well traveled
roads with my long hair
and track the pontential and power
assigned to my quiet smile
and gentle pout.

The world can be mine with a
flick of my wrist, a lick of my lips-
But I don't want it:
i'm here to expel, not to endure,
the point is to leave as light
as possible.
I won’t win until I have nothing left to carry.

Tonight I'll just seer sailors;
soldiers call to me
like I’m their sole daughter, their soul daughter,
dripping green jewels and deep, brown
curls onto tan toes and
dancing in the road-
(eyes decidedly closed,
rush hour.)

I gulp in smoke from their pipes
while spinning circles in the dirt.
My voice trails over tree branches,
my lungs smolder and ashe.
I smile sweetly-slow.

When I do meet their gaze-
(measuredly striking; a tender,
lingered look which veers me from gypsy to divinity,)
they tense.
They call out
You are my Odyssey.
You are my Wild Waves.
you are my Purple Heart.

Skipping stones over oceans and puddles,
I keep nodding and careening.
I keep coursing and coiling,
keep slurring my words,
refusing my name
and pocketing your promises.
I gave up on air-drying my skirt,
(You are not what I’m thinking of.)

I’m only a little bit of what’s left--
everything we tried to know,
everything we only read once-
everything we left in footnotes of
essays, under passenger seats
and tangled in the bed sheets
of that swollen-heart name
no longer spoken.
I'm only the woven wires
and reins braiding bold
acrylic cities across knuckles
and palms, flashlight
illuminated and glowing.
It's new skin shimmering in the
daylight, pearling over
and throbbing awake
in places only I can see.

"What did you do?"
Nothing
"What did you do?"
.... Nothing
He stared me down
for a solid minute
"What did you do?"
I stayed quiet
"What did you do?"
I...
"What?"
"What. Did. You. Do?"
I hooked up with...
"What? Louder?"
Evan
He stared me down
Unblinking
Turned his head away
Didn't speak to me
when I tried to change
the conversation topic
"Hey?"
Nothing
"Did you know, uh,"
silence
"that snails grow their shells?"
I tried to break the quiet
Slowly, measuredly
he said in even tones
"Get your ****."
I was quiet this time
"Go."
What?
"I said get
your ****
and