I am more free now than I've ever been.
Money, time, the horizon stretches out.
But.
If I had wings,
It would feel like they were set on fire.
More than clipped.
I'm not thrashing. Like
A cut bird would be.
I'm frozen here.
The air is bubbling and I can't breathe.
There's barely bone left to walk on.
I could maybe stumble. Get a job
Daze through workdays.
But my head is frozen. Thwacks from
Bats. Shrieking cracks coming through.
I can't think Everything is so
Blurry.
The thwacks aren't rescuers.
They're not breaking me out . They're
Waves crashing on me. Adding to the
Ice.
Every piece of mail,
"Have not met our
Academic Standards."
And I am deeper in the sea.
They're so many whistles to go up.
Friendly porpoises saying I can still go
Up.
But the waves are pulling me
Down

Face first
into the pasty mud
too weak to crank myself up
too ashamed to continue hugging earth
but we all hug our mothers when we're hurting.

Finally risen from the pit
Face up, proud, and defying
I gave him my stony gaze
Face caked with loam

He sneers
I could swear there are
canines in all gum roots
as he speaks
tongue dancing to farce
I hope he guillotines the messenger

He utters
you look pretty when you wear
the ****

He thwacks me deadly
I tip and tumble
right down
down

It is the betters years now
I've soared up, up
up
and now people wear mud
for me
not on faces
not that I'd care
I'm paying them, after all
after all, I'm not buying their souls
after all, they want to be here
they're happy
and after all I've been through
It's high time someone takes the mud
for me... and then
I see her

Red hair rippling in radiant sun
casting glints of desire I catch with
hungry eyes
Her skin pale as pearl
Her face speckled like rich mineral
Her features delicate and strong
Her eyes, sharp and bright and silhouetted, like
windows to a garden,
yes,
green eyes.

I've tasted never
I've spoken never
of such quibbles as love,
but her beauty is the embrace
I've never known

It's all a shimmering flow
a cascade of fluid memory
the quenching of things
not known to be thirsted
My eyes open to a path
I've just found the will
to traverse in peace.

Yet, like Jack and Jill,
we go tumbling down
down
the hill
and...

It's a wedding anniversary
not ours
because silence
and delirium imbibed
is preferred on such occasions

I smile
She glances
and sighs deep
unearthing cavernous
voids
of misery
caked on memories
of bittersweet mysteries
called love

It is only in the mirror that,
with those windowed eyes,
she gazes with scorn, pity
a truth meant for me

Shame crushes my heart
heartbeat pulsing like
a crumpled soda can
rattling on empty road

With languid brushstrokes
she applies the mascara

You look pretty when you wear
the ****
I said

The pin drops
and with it
the canvas...

One man's trash is another's face
We can find solace in the
shattered remnants
of our dreams,
or we can challenge
the very precepts that
assured our rightful happiness

You've bruises on your thighs,
both sides of skin beat and red.
If this is how he says hello to you
then maybe it's time leave, or is
it time to relieve yourself with
hits and smacks and colourful
comic-book thwacks back so his
****** nose can complement those
he gave you that time in spring.

Take your glass slippers and be
one of those girls in red dresses;
dance, twist, and twirl as well as
the rest of them, churn up that
dance floor ring and take time
out for more drinks, rehydrate
before looking for another long-
term date to be a tactile touch-er
with, another involved and committed
lover.

Take note from the pint husbands
and their half-pint wives around you,
pen a note to yourself for the future
beginning with,
Listen,
then moving swiftly on with,
If you find another man that hits
before he kisses you than you've picked wrong,
ending with,
*You've plenty of time left, stay strong.

She stands among the grey scape with
So many muted colours inside her.
But today is a day of monochrome miasmas-
Of grey gulls that skim the pewter river
With wings that know such measures.

The greyness leeches her to the technicolour
World she knew long ago
Somewhere down the river.

A cauldron of rage wages above her
Filled with the bursts of brigands of
Grey restless beauty.

There's a rainbow now!

As it archly
Shows its palette she sees the separation
Appear ever nearer...
Above the rainbow is cobalt
Beneath it a merely flat grey.

Underneath her umbrella she enjoys
The puttered thwacks of soft water indenting
Thin fabric with a firework crack.
Suddenly she's back
Her shoes are black and her eyes are grey.
She wishes everyone was a million miles away.
She wishes everyone could stay.

I thought about leaving you today
while spackling a bathtub.
Melissa’s patches were smooth and shined
in the husky light of rotting bathroom windows,
mine were rough, and sagged like a skin
on face in months before death.
My favorite part of that job was cleaning up afterward,
putting everything back in its place,
sweeping up the dust and closing the door behind you.
Your favorite part was tearing down the old,
digging your chisel into the wall,
and watching the pieces rain down on the painter’s paper.
They would fall with thwacks
thwack           thwack              like rain on umbrellas
heard through a second story window.

Trembling storm door
thwacks destruction and
love of warm blankets
keeps us cuddly cozy

Pardon my saying
violation inglorious heralds
at our stoop
Now being time for our
recoiling

Observing current circumstance
shall we dress ourselves?
In church clothes
or bathrobes do we streak
to chapel of the day

My likeness in you says,  "Yes!"
We've twiddled toes enough
We shan't wait much longer
Tyrant floods come
Poised indication tells us
our love is rakish
and rallies are arising

Who knows where  this storm goes?

All I  know is,  I want you now

I can almost taste how tense those muscles are when they swing the red-hot tire-iron into my face again and again
And oh, how the blood keeps coming and oh, how it pools on the uneven concrete
Steamy and globby and staring at my contorted jaw and the hard lines of arms using my skull like a drum
More thwacks and now human barbecue as teeth drop into the syrupy mix and float like islands and I think of A.1. steak sauce

One second of silence and I wipe my hands on my thighs
The only difference between jeans and a dress is about six inches and I start to wonder
Which six until my head jerks left and then right again and
God, don't those ******* arms ever get tired

I lick my licks and lap up the red that must be running down my chin
Tastes like maraschino cherries and some other flavor I can't quite grasp
I search the tip of my tongue for it but find only the holey ridges in my gums and suddenly I realize
Maybe that flavor is the six inches that separate jeans from dresses

But then I laugh, and somewhere far above me someone else does too.

The static is visible, it dances violently
Phosphorescent vibrations scribble suspended in time and space
Electric like a mid day sky and yet the sight of it makes me uneasy
It follows me as I walk in the dark so I can see my way

The rain in this place falls backward
The silvery pools seem to evaporate before my eyes
But it feels good to know the clouds are waiting up in the sky
So light and airy, arms open wide

The streets are empty and I can’t see too far
The static keeps me company as I walk
I’ve always felt like I was sinking
But now I want to become the rain

I ask too many questions I think
I want to understand
If I were meant to be here things wouldn’t be so bland

And the thunder rolls across the hills
Thwacks the buildings on their backs
The bare streets come alive with silver pools

My mind is like a spool of yarn coming undone in crimson yarn
Stained with the wrong color, who put it there?