hold my hands
for just a bit

pay me a bit
of attention

let me feel
a bit of your

warmth

even if it is
the last bit

you share with me

they call themselves.  witnesses.  or at least they did.  they may call themselves.  something else now.

they ring your bell.  and hand you a paper.  or a pamphlet.  and invite you somewhere.  you warn your neighbors.  about them.

as if they are threatening you.  and your neighbors.

but they are just sharing.  their truth.  it doesn’t have to be your truth.  if your truth is strong enough.  then them sharing their truth.  won’t hurt you.  or your neighbors.

you can converse.  and share.  and go about your life.  without them.  I have.  and they ask me.  if they can return.  and I let them.  

each month.  they hand me.  a paper.  or a pamphlet.  and we talk.  and then go about our lives.

you say.  they are why you hate.  answering your door.  but I don’t believe you.  if it wasn’t them.  it would be something else.

as you have grown
you have grown on me

accepted all the
sticks and stones

and the hurt
hurled at you

and remained strong
or grew stronger

I can feel it
in your sounds

I can hear it
in your words

true beauty bends
but doesn’t break

and maybe someday
I will shake it off

like you

I am a planet
holding secrets

that only science
can find

experiment on me
tear me into pieces

investigate me
in the way

that only you can

understand and reveal
to others

like you always do
that there is so much

honesty buried
in this lonely world

that it hurts to breathe

hurt me
in the way

that only you can

we had this conversation.  before.  you and I.  well not this exact conversation.  but something similar. when you ask me a question.  and I don’t really answer you.

I am not being rude.  or obstinate.  I really don’t have an answer.  so this time.  I will try.  to answer it.

yes.  sometimes.  I am happy.  

if I don’t think about it.  if I don’t notice it.

those ephemeral
little demons

haunting me

pain is human

nothing hurts
without nerves

or words

I have never lived
with angels

we all walked
crooked paths

and sometimes
we learn

everything breaks
and most things

start out broken

he had words
he wanted to share

but I would not listen
to him

I was caught up
in a net of expectations

pulling me in different
directions

not wanting to disappoint
anyone

I had words
he wanted to hear

but I would not
share them

with him

I know these people

they create sounds
from deep inside

so deep

they sing to me
their magic spells

make me feel
deep inside

so deep

and in these
shorter days

too many of my
favorite stars
have died

so soon

you sit so easily
made of soft wood

life floats around you
and lets you be

the currents change

the strong and
weak forces

push and pull
against you

and yet

you remain
still bird

the grass is tall.
around this tree.

with its thick trunk.
and hungry roots.

with its confused branches.
competing for space.

we lay out our blanket.

spread cheese on crackers.
drink wine and other spirits.

we feel the conflict of love.

the month and more.
of separation.

the feeling of difference.
and change.

the feeling of hope.
and regret.

we rub our naked.
limbs together.  

trying to make.  
the sound a cricket.

makes.

a dark forest spills
into my dreams

creatures with
sharp teeth

stalk me they

want me but
won’t take me

they speak
deep words

leading me
to believe

I am safe but

I don’t want
to be safe

when I was young

I had

those little things
inside me

a billion
magical sprites
dancing

igniting sparks off
each other

creating other
magical

creatures

connecting to
each other

creating one
big magical
creature

and I thought
if I thought

hard enough

I would explode
and become

a star

she was small

a soap bubble
created by breath

floating away
by herself

so full of life and
not afraid to burst

breathe in…today

fill your lungs with
the quiet violence

of modern life

feel it tear apart your
twice baked soul

with its silver-forked tongue

let it wipe away
your lonely tears

with 60 grit sandpaper

feel today course through
your open veins

exploding the past
into particles of dust

becoming a myth

I have lost direction
there is no point

to today

when they see him
they say he reads hungry

he is so wild
pure abandon

crushing all obstacles
in his path

he is looking for raw meat
he wants the blood dripping

down his chest

he wants only tough words
to chew on

only they can nourish him
only they can satisfy his

hunger

it is never good.  when only one voice speaks.  
it is worse.  when many voices speak.  
but they say the same thing.

some big cities

are running out
of space

not really

they are running
out of compassion

greed and power
are bottomless pits

sinister identical twins
living off

brains and hearts
using big words

to hide their
missing spaces

where once lived
their brains and hearts

enough space to
house the planet

each night.  blackbirds congregate. on the roof.  below me.  I want to join them.  their religion.  or maybe they are still a cult.  as all religions are.  at the beginning.  until they get enough.  believers.  until they get enough.  power.  and influence.  to convince.  others to at least.  tolerate them. and then maybe.  join them.

I want to join them.

the blackbirds.  are still small.  in numbers.  but they look so peaceful.  they don’t move.  for hours.  they must be in.  prayer or meditation.  I know devotion takes time.  and I am willing.  to devote my time.  to whatever they worship.  to whatever they believe.  I want to be a blackbird.  congregating on a roof.

the past was
not perfect

and everyday
will be the past

…

the world is
not perfect

and we are
the world

…

I am broken
and maybe

I broke you

and if I say
I was wrong

will you

let me live
and learn

will you

let me be
a human

being doing
the best that

I can

old stories
are always
morphing

and history
comes to life

in her mystical
too wide eyes

crystal *****

the strange beauty
has no color and
cannot be named

although someone tried

to capture her
in a name to

make her final

but she is too
many people

too incomplete to be
called anything

if I thought hard enough.  I could probably break.  into pieces.  at least inside.  I was lost.  many times.  I was saved.  once.  that day.  my world was so small.  everything seemed within reach.  and everything mattered.

it was then.  a small man with.  a big mouth. spoke.  the word of god.  as if he was. i am.

and for a few moments.  maybe longer.  but not an eternity.  I forgot when my brain was soft.  or that it was still soft.  or that it could always be soft.  enough to change.  it was later.  that I learned.  that.

faith is death.  the end of mystery.  and doubt.  one night.  I dreamed a new world.  into existence.  an afterworld.  where angels ask me questions.  after all.  they cannot question.  anyone else.  

and without any answers.  we all held hands.  and walked away.  believing.  in doubt.

made a list
and kicked it
twice

steel
toes
crushing
dreams

futures are bent

like
the
universe

we were not meant

to
live
this
long

civilizations spent

all
their
savings

on crap like rent

and I sit in the warmest
place on earth

on a wooden bench
outside a cafe

where each day
at a specific time

the sun focuses
all her powers

...

sipping a latte
wearing shades

I feel like a star

I fall through glass.  looking.  a mirror.  an image.  I am cut into pieces.  small versions of me.  scatter.  across the planet.  I cannot follow.  everyone.  so I sleep.  after all.  

I am tired.

I wake to a whisper.  she is the wise widow of the wind.  she smiles at me.  lasciviously.  she tells me secrets.  I listen.  sneaking peaks.  at her mystery.

I grow.  large.  I put the beautiful planet.  in my pocket.  for safe keeping.  the oceans drain.  I have a stain.  I can’t explain.

who would believe me.  anyway.

we are not
alone

the world
is filled

with people
like US

we all need
each other

but we are
scared to admit

all walls are
blocks of fear

piled on top
of each other

today everything
spreads quickly

hurt and help

we choose how
to use our powers

all of US

the smart girl laughs

only when it matters
only when it means

something

then I know I am funny
she gets it

but still I never get her

what does a guy
have to do

wake me when
I’m gone

what is gone?
have I disappeared?

or am I lingering
in your heavy breath?

I am living in your
sudden memories?

do I mysteriously
appear in a dream?

am I still your fantasy?

what is gone?

and last night in
a wondrous dream

I attended the
wedding of one

paris hilton at a VFW

sitting around folding tables
in white folding chairs

we all laughed and danced

I woke up thinking
may we all live in peace

the simple truth.  escapes me.  I see so much more.  but more is not.  always better.  more becomes fog.  more is a distraction.  more helps us avoid.  a simple truth.

small angels.  use less air.  small angels.  take up less space.  that is.  a simple truth.

I am a balloon.  floating.  a child reaches.  for my string.  but I am lighter.  than air.  and just out of reach.  as I rise.  I can see more.  and more.  so many things.   that were big.  seem so small.  so many things.  that were small.  are now out of reach.

I hold a spider.  in my hand.  cover it.  with the other.  it is my secret.  it moves.  hairs tickle my skin.  I want to move.  open my hands.  reveal the spider.

we want to share.  our secrets.  that is.  a simple truth.

when he sings
he is me

or that is what
I think

they could be
my words

he sings

they are my
feelings

I feel

or that is what
I think

when I listen
to him sing

he knows
my pain

he is smart
and lonely

he is raw
and naked

or that is what
I think

when I listen
to him sing

she scrubs her skin
sees a stain

that won’t leave
I don’t see it

but she still
doesn’t trust me

she thinks I
am too nice

to tell the truth

she hurts when
I touch her

I hurt when
she won’t

but I don’t tell her

I am a playful beast

and I love to play
with words

the pieces of
a language

the keys to
understanding

your secrets
the truth you

buried deep inside

I want us to create
a new language

to tell our secrets
to each other

the secrets that
only we can

understand and share

I am a boy
called gangly

feet too big
to fit in shoes

legs longer
than my body

wrists the size
of a wedding ring

I like when
the sky is sad

turning streets
into oceans

and my long legs
can lift my big feet

into the open air

so I can feel
like a gazelle

leaping bodies
of water

to escape all
the predators

I am in a room.  the door is closed.  then disappears.  the windows are boarded.  shut.  then disappear.  the walls start moving.  closing in.  then disappear.  people appear as a mass.  their lips are moving.  but they say nothing.  I am searching for a face.  that feels familiar.  I disappear.

I am in another room.  it is a cathedral.  my imaginary man appears.  hovering above me.  covered in a golden robe.  he speaks to me.  his voice is thunder.  his words are ancient.  he is my master.  he is my god.  I disappear.

I am back. in that other room.  the people reappear.  they become trees.  trees made of paper.  one piece of paper.  a forest of paper trees.  my arms are elastic.  I extend them.  around the world.  I cut them up.  the trees.  make them individuals.  free to leave the forest.

there are babies in the corners.  they have new brains.  filled with billions of creatures.  bumping into each other.  they are strangers.   hoping to make connections.  hoping to become familiar.  hoping to create a new voice.  hoping to create a new language.

I introduce myself to them.  but I don’t think they understand.  to them.  I am moving lips.  saying nothing.

a moment passed.  an emotion felt.  photographs aren’t memories.  memories aren’t experiences.  angels aren’t humans.  and she is not an angel.

she is young.  but she has lived.  through more.  than me.

we are travelling.  up north.  in an old white van.  my eyes are closed.   her head is slanted.  resting on me.  she whispers.  she sings.  that song to me.  the old church song.  about salvation.  

she is thinking.  about something.  I am feeling.  her thoughts.  and maybe.  for a moment.  we are one.

winter licks
your cheeks

leaving strawberry stains

white drops
color your
thick hair

making you wise
beyond your years

crystal knives
hang from
the trees

you lie down
making an angel

playing a
waiting game

I am a child
of the fields

not the oceans
or the seas

not the forests
or the leaves

not the desert
or the sun

I am a child
of the weeds

wild flowers
and buzzing bees

high grass and
fast grasshoppers

ladybugs and
lightning bugs

I am a child
of the fields

unkempt
beautiful and
free

I remember
the ocean

Indian

over 100
days circling

at sea

white hat
blue jeans

bell bottoms

I remember
the guys

serving
together

there was
no war

declared

but we
were always

at risk

serving
together

over 100
days circling

at sea

we were
together

but we were
not connected

loose particles
living in the

same space

passing by
each other

rotating around
each other

electricity did
not pass

through us
it died within

us

the sound
of hunger
or anger

silence

then death
by a thousand
scratches

he was lost
in an old forest

young wolves
circling
smelling

his desperation

he spent years
building

his fortress
of thick skin

that nothing
could penetrate

that nothing
could escape

in this old forest
he was rigid

his cold
lonely body
shivering

unable to feel warmth

don’t look at me
that way

I feel naked
in your presence

I am not in control
I cannot remain silent

your questions
have exposed me

you have loosed
my tongue

with your cleverness
with your insight

seeing inside me

you must be from
another world

you possess a
super power

I have never felt

I

using his words
as clubs

trying to beat
down his shadows

that keep popping up

he has so many
ghosts

even the
ghostbusters
can’t save him

II

he wants you
to call him

fearless leader
but he does not know

you cannot
lead from the rear

as an a**

III

who needs
“fixers”

people who
make a lot
of “mistakes”

and don’t
want to admit it

IV

he is mean

and in the end
he will face

his biggest fear

that history
will tell him

he didn’t
mean a thing

starts in a home
seems familiar

my dead mother

is alive and
making dinner

we talk about
something important

the conversation
is never clear

but it seems
familiar

we move outside

to a park with
crowds of almost
family

someone’s family
celebrating something

they all seem familiar
at least to each other

the park expands
into a resort

the mountain
background of
snow covered tips

contrasts with
the summer
resort setting

I walk by a
body of deep water

a large woman
in a one piece

is floating but

as she sings opera
she starts sinking

to the bottom
and then I am awake

and alone

the possession of time

my time
is dwindling

but I still find
myself giving

more of it to you

you have mastered
the waves in the air

creating a magic spell

putting me in
a trance

I am swallowing
all the
sounds you emit

and they are snaking
through my soul

spreading you
through me

until my time is you

I do not wake

following shades
of grey goose

into darker places

she is a twist

a dance of
pretty particles

intertwining
integrating

with just one
subtle movement

she whispers the
name of god

I am stiff and
obvious she

understands me
right away

I cannot hide
in my layers

of skin and scars

(my usual places)

my mind does
not function

I cannot make
choices

I am

urgent
immediate
exposed

my lies
die and
turn to
dust

she is
the wind

I am awake

captured by a mouth
with no teeth

we are not chewed
we do not bleed

we are swallowed
whole

like a pill
like a cure

we are the
medicine

for what ails you

they wait for
us to reach

what they call
the bottom

but they are from
another generation

they do not
understand

there is a bottom that
cannot be reached

so we float forever
in the

dragon’s breath
burning away

what ails you
and become artists

making life with
our own colors

she is

a scratch in
the back of
my throat

I cannot
cough her
away

she is not

contagious
it seems

only I am
infected

exists in everyone
we all belong to it

we all wear masks

the mysterious
machine operates

without orders

we muck through
our swamps

trying to make
sense

to make
it common

to tell each
other we

understand

but we can never
tell the whole truth

about ourselves
not even to ourselves

because we don’t know it