footsteps approach your bed
like nothing you have ever heard
excitement? or maybe dread?

footsteps in your mind
keep these for the last dance
match the tempo, step to time

when I am entranced
by a person I delight
in taking a piece that I admire
and melding it into my desire
then they become part of me

I am a patchwork of souls
I take mementos as I please

in sky in sea bright heart afire
your song opens my souls desire
I am transfixed by your power
I bask in your voice, this evening hour
you are so operatic, magnetic
rhythms driving sensation across my skin
exultant, driven, nearly hectic
so delightful, almost sin
my pen dandles across the paper
my mind grasps at your fleeting form
trying to hold, and capture
this fluid thing that brings me rapture

the tiny infinities filling in the tiny spaces
where curves cavort and delight
and cavort and delight
lower dimensions folded and folded
probing and venturing the curves and the space
and elevate with repetition
the space filling curve
delight in the heightening
of the space filling curve
the delectable duplicated declensions
going downwards through the space and the curve
infinite unwinds and opens, relaxed
the space is filled, the curve, unpacked

lately lounging lazily
lavish luxuriant lull
loosely leaning leftwards
lightly lilting lyrics
languorous lively locals
LOVELY

green men in green light
stretched, twisted,
in the midst of occult rite
verdant figures of living dead

the abyss stares where the face should be
something quavers the soul
a caged being that must not be set free
to gaze within is to be the fool

gaze averted, the world begins to bleed
ascend, ascend, the turning gyre
the virulent green, a germinating seed
entrance the mind, bring forth desire

left                                                             ­                                                right
to my                                                               ­                                    on track
    own devices                                                          ­      to my future self,
    i tend to go                                                             endless possibilities
        astray                                                  ­            but only one choice
        i wander and                                                           and I wonder
            i ask the universe gleefully,       who will I be tomorrow?
            what's out there for me to see?        the answer is silence
                 and so I go onwards and inwards, journey of soul
                 i go downwards and outwards, a venture so bold
                     life branches and twines, a kissing canopy
                     unified in the end, I'm where I ought to be

and suddenly
the start is something like a trickle of mountain spring water
it's minute, persistent, almost prideful
the progression is natural
it's almost a flow
it's an onslaught
the sound of bed sheets pulled over
soft silken sweeps emit in intervals
and then dispersal
with the gradual suddenness of sand slipping through fingers
like the clatter of marbles dropped from a hand
the multitudes emerge
scattered like a dandelion
consumed by the wind
and extension
until the last pin prickle straddles the edge of consciousness and imagination
with a pause
it cascades
the stream of water, stronger now, a river
and suddenly
impulse

when it comes time you must
    leap

and landing doesn't matter
because once you
    leap


you've already started
and it's momentum
and it's discipline
and it's waking up every day
to
        leap


even further
to do the thing
because the only way to do the thing is
                                        to leap



do the thing.

your dark hair on my pillowcase
it snarls me from my dream
i'm pulled awake by this dark strand
and all at once I am ******.

your dark hair on my pillowcase
spills and courses an ebony stream
my eyes drift to your softly sleeping face
and I pull you into my embrace

your dark hair tangles in my fingers
coils and grasps my memory
eyes, hands, lips
just beyond fingertips

your dark hair tangles in my fingers
our amor cloaked in an onyx curtain
I count the flutters of your eyelashes
and I kiss your neck so that I can inhale your pulse

there is a skeleton of an idea
born from some barely formed imagination
abducted from its incubation
and slammed into the dirt
under layers and layers
it fossilizes
and bone becomes crystal
and silicates abound
and the impression is ripped from the ground
paraded amongst the public
strung up and put on show
but what has happened to the flesh and sinew?

I am challenged by the cold
in this negative space that I am in
full of sappers and drainers
painted takers and gainers
and I am exhilarated by this winter
full of space that I can consume
that takes from me everything
and gives to me revelation

like the last drop squeezed from a parched lemon

my thoughts are spooled in tangles infinitely
draw one out like a spider silk thread
thinly gingerly cling and extract
this pure distillation so delicate
lepidoptery, a million beautiful ideas arrayed on a board
pinned and preserved
no longer ephemeral

how dare you be so cute
wandering as you please with attitude
sassy meow at my approach
queen of the house I adore you the most

wondrous shine, your coat so sleek
knocking over things, havoc, you wreak
despite all the toys, it's the box you seek
it's three in the morning and you simply must eat

Always as I'm leaving I ask myself,
    "Must I really go?"
So now I am Orpheus rising through Hades
Tempting me back as I struggle against inversion
    Eurydice
Really though, it's not that dramatic
Despite my Greek lament I will
    Always
Make my way back to you

three planes meet
and the midafternoon light graduates
beige to shade to not quite black
softly syncopated
by the curtain on the window
and if it's inverted in the imagination
suddenly staring at the edge of infinity
straining outwards in every dimension
available to the naked eye

as she lies there
sinuous resplendent
idling
light and shade
play radiant on her flesh
gradients
an elbow sinks
into soft bedding
lustfully yielding
as she reclines
skin taut and
scent fresh
a carnal
delight

what is the nature of the interface?
language simmers in the core of our collective memory
language provides us with the ability to codify the universe
and yet it's oilier than a mackerel
language leaps, language stumbles, weaves, and muddles
like a river in runs and turns and bends
and yet it does absolutely none of those things
and yet the listener knows it does all of those things
and this oily fish at the center of the universe is how humanity communes with stardust and sand
and this language, it becomes numbers, things that have always existed but only concretely when attached to a word
are there a finite amount of ideas in the universe? An ostensibly countable infinity?
and does that mean that one day the last original thought will be had?
does that mean that every single thought can be found by compute?
if there was a thought machine, and an infinite amount of time, would it think every thought that would ever be thunk?
or is the universe of ideas infinite?
an ever expanding space of collective thought
of things unthinkable that will one day be thunk
of worlds, patterns, and mental simulacra entirely incomprehensible
could a mental ship set sail on this ocean of thought?
would it ever be able to return to its home port?

strained, tympanic
idling, to a panic
urged internally
yet stuck eternally
due date for a do date

my shadow of a thought prances with delight
elusive dance
I grasp the shade to tether me to its being
and the mischievous umbral silts through my sieve of fingers
my shadow of a thought breezes between my ears
whispering come hithers
as i clamber, my arms wide
torch wall and shade in the cavern of my mind
and my shadow of a thought coos and urges
its fellows to join the bacchanalia
the cacophonous caverns clamor to crescendo
i'm left blended in thought and shadow
a memory of a memory in my hand
the closing remarks a murmur on my lips

it stops
something
        stumbles
and with
backwards
        glance

it is yesteryear
and the once and future moment
over and over
the first, second, third
fourth and fifth
        and sixth

welcome back to the ever oncoming
breathe
clasp
release release
release

sitting midnight
storm come creeping
little taps like a hand enticing
a cat across a table
bigger taps like a set of fingers
drumming impatience
and then the gusts it comes and blows
howl thump away it blows
colder and colder that tapping creaks
sitting midnight
the storm to greet

take me
neuron by neuron
and rearrange me
every single nerve in some other place
a totality of discombobulation
render me such with a gaze
and let me babble my mind into the void
i am neurochemistry afire
i am alight
i am activated
and i am completely lost
bamboozled
delighted
by you

I squeeze the sodden rags of my psyche for the last droplets to wet my parched mental
I cast my gaze left and right
frantically searching for the thief of my words
the giggling cackling vicious
snatches thoughts from my cradle
whisking them to never
and my thief her sister
whispers to me that there was nothing stolen at all
that this absence has always been there
and the many many messengers
had always the wrong addresses
my missives go to nil
they were not packaged and shipped
they were not stolen
they were not

Bo walks with me
his dark eyes hold a spark
the flicker of a candle in a pool of oil
his black gilt cane grasped with a firm jeweled hand
the thief and her sister in the corners of my vision
always so while I turn my head
amidst the deep green wood
where my dear Bo walks beside me

when every thing is beautiful and nothing is
when your mind is pregnant and your tongue is thick
when the water laps laughing
when the thoughts come through like fine threaded guilt aqua regia
when angst sparks his ire and fuels yours
when its only four hours until his flight
when dehydration is your only plight
when pride and wrath and gluttony
when eat, pray, love rear their ugly heads
when the hand of salvation wriggles against you like an eel
when the greed churns upon your skin
boils and bile upchucked within
it turns and turns your sin
within and reviles the ones you want to win
who can't explain the words within
it fires and fires your unholy sin
within within within
within
I

i am waiting for someone to come get their clothes from the dryer
i am waiting for the laundry machine to open up
it cycles
    every
        thirty
            seconds
and then stops

a daybreak's worth of beeping chirps
i am waiting for someone to come get their clothes from the dryer

as my wet washed clothes begin to get drier
as my patience begins to dry up
i am waiting for the laundry machine to open up
it cycles
    every
         thirty
                 seconds
and then stops

I took my old rickety-rackety down to the 38th annual Jickety Jackety
I glimpsed a flit of Thilts, purring Brazkets in a row
    a couple of Thrice Heim'ed Tippens
        and even one thundering Lugubrious Quandry
but mine was the only rackety that day at the Jickety Jackety

circuited with spection and plick-placked with aghast
did trundle my rickety-rackety with nary a quinkle
    "Welcome to the 38th annual Jickety Jackety", trumpeted the Sonorator
        "we eagerly await the clinking of clonks, the unexpected wabeling, and the ever hazardous finale"
    "a grand spectacle, a cacophonous din,"
    "shall the Jickety Jackety begin!"

a clamor strode through the spectators and washed over the contenders
as tension undid and knotted brows
    stitching and sewing a slurry and tangle

did dribble-thrash the Brazkets at the first note of "-in!"
on surged the Thraggonks not to be out done
        as my rickety-rackety gave a confident thitter-thatter
    and did dance onwards midst a flock of Thilts
        and my rickety-rackety chortled with patter
    firmly did lumber the Lugubrious Quandry
        each motion a thunder, it proceeded grandly
the chitter and natter as the crowds ribboned and tattered
the slither stomp wander of contenders contested
the sun ran slipshod down to the horizon
as Sonorator sang close the end of the the 38th

that day I went down to the Jickety Jackety
me and my rickety-rackety

your hands through my hair
your fingers upon my skin
your sweat down my back

staring at the people in the nexus of transition
some are walking, jogging,
or dragging their bits and pieces behind them
lumping and ******* across linoleum seams with a clatter
and blitzing along on a travelator
any two of them heading to or coming from a different location
where you're bound and how fast you need to go
or are you right where you need to be
or you're content just going nice and slow
it's microcosmic I see

do you mean it or do you just want me?
are you here to make lines on my naked skin
or to nestle your soul in between my heartbeats
do you mean it or do you just want me?

do you hitch my breath with butterfly kisses?
and do you shackle my spirit amorously
and do you bruise my skin with ferocious pucker
and do you see me so deep ardently

do you mean it or do you just want me?
to dance kisses downward on your neck
do you mean it or do you just want me?
to sit with you as time wanders through us
do you mean it or do you just want me?

my haphazard clutter of books
stacked and stumbled in a cacophony of to read, and have reads
with a chic clique of am readings tittering through
my careworn spines and eagerly wrenched pages
and stiff backed unbent sentries
concealing tearful tomorrows or paper expanses of doldrums

you answer my love like it's a test
as you tilt your head and deliberate
and pick words so slow and discard the rest
and I pry and pray and calculate
the math-o-manic inputs for your robot ears
for your robot mouth to soothe my fears
and your wide eyed confusion
as tears line my face a canyon
your dark eyed stare puts me on knees
to your imperious posture I plead

i am at the intersection of eloquence and impotence
and i fell fractionally in love tonight
with a stranger that intimated me knowingly
and in little moments they gave me bits of soul
as i presented mine in coffee spooned drops
when a stare is a venture
when a stare is a hazard
when a stare is a question
and the candlelight flutters shadows as heartbeats
and my universe is disturbed

i am squeezing my brain like an orange
wringing out the last pulpy bits of thoughts
to create something
not new nor revolutionary
but altogether me
i am too often open to embrace
likening to a flower accepting sunlight
and i am too little at seizing and advancing
grasping with a deep need to form
and i squeeze my brain like an orange

being loved by a tiger
in so much of a way that sitting in the palm of their hand
or nestled in the crook of their neck
to know that no harm would come in those moments
to be nestled in the jaws of a beast
with such deep suredness that no bite would come
to be freely foolish and lovingly laughable
trusting so implicitly in that love like a universal

i
am
thinking of nothing
and you ask me

what
i
am
thinking about?

i am thinking about how nice it is to be thinking about nothing with you

I am not going to cry
Because I feel sad, helpless, alone and it is the first day of middle school
I squeeze my eyes shut to stop the tears from flowing
I ball my fists to stop my breathing from shaking
I will not cry right here
I am not gonna cry
Because I messed up, I made a mistake, and I'm so lost and don't know what to do next
I stop, breathe deep, and calm the histrionics
I close my eyes and withdraw from the world for a beat
I will not cry right here
I'm not gonna cry
Because I'm nervous, anxious, and away from home for the first time
I stand up straight and go through the motions
I breathe deep, shut eyes, take a beat
I won't cry right here
i won't cry
because i'm needed, because i'm strongest, because i'm reliable
stand, breathe, pause, go.
smile, breathe, comfort, breathe, go.
help, care, brave, go.
(there will be time to breathe later)
do, and go and do and go.
breathe. breathe. breathe?
i can't cry
i squeeze my eyes to give it a try
i curl into a ball and they remain dry

kafka on the shore
shakespeare in the park
the person I adore,
leaves a particular mark

hemmingway on the coast
nietzsche in the peaks
this person is the most
to them doth my embrace reach

anonymous will rage
so that I will turn the page
so my heart speaks
of love it doth teach

here at the beach
as sand passes the glass
my amor in the dark
of you i preach and adore

vivacious
vividly vivacious
life blood bleeds through my veins
i am so alive
my moments are treasures i keep close
my moments are quests i seek to find
the wind flows around me as i ponder the universe
the steam licks the window as i ponder the universe
i am so alive

cursed sun
how dare you ruin my fun
now that winter is done
and spring has begun
i think i may be the only one
cursed sun

you sat on the bed barely a foot away from me
the lighting was dim and it was way past any reasonable bedtime
And I just stared at you not believing you were real
And you were so present and so there and absolutely vivacious
And my mind is thinking a thousand thoughts but nothing at all
And there's a half smile on your face
And I can't help but think there's one on mine
So I struggle for something charming to say at three in the morning
and before a sound leaves my lips
yours are on mine
your hand on my face and fingers in my hair
thumb along the jaw
your tongue caressing a soft dance along mine
And my mind is blank with ecstasy
And that moment is timeless as my mind falls into it
This sweet eternity is seconds and minutes
and then I'm looking at your face and your eyes and there is absolutely nothing else
and we're back
and I want
and I want
and I want
Kiss. Kiss.
Pull on my hair, pull me closer. Claim me with your kiss.
And I'm yours with a kiss and we're hands, arms, lips, and breaths
and I'm staring at you and it's the world I see
as it goes with a kiss and a kiss.

sprinting for coffee
because i'm late and i
don't want to lose the minutes i have
with you
so
im sprinting for coffee
sip slowly savoring stories you say
how are you and how was your day
because i don't usually have much free time
and when i do
i'm sprinting for coffee
with you

i told the stars about you because i love to brag to the cosmos
and i whispered with pride the ways you move me
and i told the stars about your hopes and dreams
and those tiny things that i can't help but notice
i told the stars about you
because the universe made us who we are
and some stroke of fate put me in your path to put me on mine
and it fills me with life

Frost's fingers tenderly twine mine
his breath blithely flutters across my lips
dastardly dancing touches tousle hair with abandon
once, twice, thrice and he has me trembling
Frost's kisses settle upon my cheeks blushing
he dips icy hot dapples lingering longingly
lightly lilting leavings bidding me bashful
im wrapped, i gasp, at last, at last

i won't stop missing you
i write all the things i'm too cowardly to say to you
because you mean so much more to me than i ever will to you
and i'm grandiose and over dramatic
and you're so grounded and pragmatic
and i'm interrogative and analytic
and you're so instinctive and prolific

at last, at last, hundred years have gone
her name keeps ringing
at last, at last, she has gone silent
bellicose percussives at once still
alas, alas, she has retreated from memory
frantically grasping at fading tendrils of warmth
alas, alas, what once was
will never be

And now you'll always be in my memories
Never too far away, a perpetual influence
You are the moon and you pull me like ocean tides
And now you'll always stain my life in shades of your color

Always now I'm steeped in shades of you
Your likes and dislikes tinting rose the way my life is viewed
Not ever to be something I can touch but always seen
As it is you're too far from my reach.

whiskey whisk me
away, find a way to
tryst me risk-ly.
whiskey whisk me
to a day, not today

i drift along the web aetherized and soporific
my torpor tenuous and temporal i stumble
upon a ripple that grows unraveling
and i revel in its unraveling gyre
as its descent enriches in the morning light
delight in my dreaming drenching

one day you will see my soul whole
one day I will give you a fragment and another day another
another fragment of my soul until you have all of me
of my fears, my nightmares, of my ambitions, my dreams
dreaming of giving you something so cherished
to cherish me as I clutch you to my breast tightly and tenderly
tender, my delicate soul you hold, from this day to the last day
one day you will have my soul whole