silly boy
silly girl

those borders
are artificial

designed for
someone else

for some long
ago purpose

they don’t
belong to us

we are natural
our mother

made us free

we can walk
together

where ever
we want

look at the
land

do you see
any lines

your secrets
are not buried

beneath rubble
they are right

there for anyone
to see

anyone with the
right eyes in

their mind

to see what is
right in front

of them

the fat hamster
in the wheel

chasing dreams
it knows it can
never catch

but it can’t stop itself

I know what it is
being ripped into two

sides

warring against
each other

the dichotomy
of demons

wanting to possess
others to live

there are so
many ways

to feel

and just as
many ways

to numb

but numbness
is not healing

it is prolonging
the inevitable

time

when the pain
must express

itself in so
many places

same pain in
so many places

with my finger
I make small circles
in the air
I am conducting
something
before there was
something
the sound of cells
separating
it is the first music
instrumental
instruments
beginning the
formation
of space and time
the dividing lines
making anything
possible
but I do not decide
I am not right
or wrong
good or evil
I only create context
you fill in all
the blanks

bees buZz
in your ears

the moan of
the moment

the ecstasy
of honey

drips

feel the pain
and poison

of all my
stings

when you
try to steal

my heart
and run away

They questioned me again yesterday.  
They always question me.  

They think bright lights are the path to the truth.  If they left me in darkness the truth might be revealed.  

I don’t think they will ever understand.  

I talk to them as if I am talking to a child.  Their questions are those of a child.  I give them answers only a child will understand.  

They make progress each day.  It is slow, but progress nonetheless.  

I ask them questions, they get angry.  They don’t understand that questions can be answers.  They think violence is control.  

What do they know of an eruption?  
Only the sun understands me.

I felt you
urgently

like a siren
going off

inside of me
something

clinging
desperately

our souls
entangled

telling each
other

a story that
doesn’t want

to end

the day after spring.  
I walk outside.
into empty streets.
my steps still carry the cold.  

the sky is black.
the voices from the deep.
seem near.
you can’t be alone.  
we won’t let you be.
without us. ever.

I swallow.
small holes of intensity.
multiple colors.
I feel the slow burn.
descend.
as I am entered by.
a hazy band of light.

it is expanding.
and I am rising.
into the dark.
seeing exploding stars.
sparkle.

I cannot stop.
I have to let it.
burn itself out.

we must pull it together

these disparate pieces
of human civilization
we are humans

a species

but mostly we are
left-overs – left-out
of the actual race

search the memory of an angel
or the memory of the earth

for what was
long before what is

search deep inside of what is
for the seeds of what was

those vast empires of human energy
the knowledge of human life
when it was still young but
advancing in rapids

oh, the humanity
the beginning of
humanity

what is history?
who defines history?

and what is definition anyway?
but creating...boundaries

the captured
the contained
the caged
the constrained

so who defines us?

and the big question
the only question that matters

when will [us] ever be a big
enough word to contain everyone?

everything she
touches becomes

the standard
against which

life is compared

her thoughts
must be made

of stardust

she drips talent
and I want to

catch a few drops
to drink or

rub on my skin or
inject into my veins

however one

transfers talent
between souls

is a spiral
of learning

finding the next
seed

solving the
next problem

knowing there

is no ultimate
source

at least

not one
you will find

in your lifetime

but you keep
searching

believing there
is an ideal

for everything
you believe

it is this night
when we rewind

and add on
some will get

more sleep
not me

my mind doesn’t
rest like that

it is clockwork
and will not

be changed by
another’s rules

so I walk in the
cold air

and think

I see myself glowing

my skin lit by
this blue moon

I am not real

I have learned
the secrets of
the slinky

the chameleon
blends into
each and every
situation

wanting nothing
but survival
nothing but
another day

the chameleon
has a name
but in the moment

you cannot see it
you cannot hear it
you cannot remember it

I have learned
the secrets of
the ghost

how to say yes
and disappear

I know I belong
to those with

a life in which
dark came early

and light was
at best a shooting

star

appearing suddenly
then fading back

into the dark
slowly

so you can
imagine you

still see the
pieces of light

and you hold
onto those pieces

as long as you can

go ahead

shove your
fingers deep

into my heart
feel my first scar

I am in a creek
up to my knees

mud between my toes
holding me in place

sort of fishing

you are on the bank
on a blanket

your head on a soft pillow
a glass of wine within reach

sort of reading

you say something sort of funny
and I sort of laugh

I am a bug
caught in

a spider web
of beauty

I know where
it exists

I know why
it exists

I know
my future

if I go there

I land there
anyway

I give in to
my capture

knowing
resistance

is futile

you asked me
to be the sun you

always wanted

but I was
more like you

the moon

only shining
in darkness

making waves
going through

cycles where
my light shrinks

until it almost
disappears

sorry I could
never be the one

who warms you
like you wanted

me to be

Sound, sound, sound
the dimensions of which are endless, defenseless, I can be quiet, like you told me.  

Only you said it in a way that was far more unsettling.  What are the metaphors for the quiet; a snake, a cat before it pounces on an unsuspecting mouse, oh, the defenseless mouse, and the dead?  

I learned how to be quiet one night in a breathless bar.  It was with you, I think.  My memory goes in and out; oh you already know that, of course you do.

We were there no more than ten minutes when my voice disappeared.  The suddenness was almost laughable to you.  I opened my mouth to speak; sandpaper rubbing against my vocal cords swollen from useless overuse.  It is strange how many people can suddenly go deaf.  

Here we are again, you ignoring me as if I do not exist.  You seem to be disappearing into various levels of sound as I begin to merge into the surroundings.  With only one sound there is silence.  I could be a ghost.  I could be a ghost.

I think she is brilliant
I want to be one of her words
just one of her magic words
that casts a spell over all these people

I will start as a mere disturbance in her
a feeling that something important just happened
a desire that she cannot yet name

I will spend so much time in her cavernous mind
wandering through all her crevices
falling off the cliffs into deep water

god she is so deep
how am I able to breathe
there is so much going on in here

all this energy
explosions of thought
everything moves
so quickly
that nothing should
connect

but somehow it
all does

and when she finally
turns me into
form

real enough so
she can grasp me
begin to understand me
and she expels me
from her

as one short word
of one short poem

because I was inside her
people will think
I am brilliant

slightly above
the earth

I dance
I must be

slightly
lighter

than air

I lost
weight

the fading
memory

of losing
you to him

it doesn’t
hurt as much

and pain
has more

weight than
we realize

I am footloose
but not yet

fancy free
but I will

get there

She licked me
stuck her tongue inside of me
like I was an electric socket

like she saw some invisible, powerful
thing raging
inside this plain, broken exterior

something that would shock her
that would radiate inside her
make her curly hair stand end to end

like this cracked skin wasn’t meant to
protect what was inside

but to protect the outside from
what was living inside

and if she could only free it
if she could only feel it

she could become it

she wasn’t scared
this pretty girl likes electricity

she bends like
a young branch

or a flowing river
there is no resistance

in her
when I see her

magical movements

I think we
need to create

a different name
for her body

and declare her
the new truth

and create a
place like her

where we
can all fit in

we ask why
not for

we do not
want more

you speak
words from

memory

everything
is in your

head but

all truth
is embodied

and never
complete

so you can
not answer us

in any way
we can believe

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

as a child
I did

I would
jump

everything

we had
nothing

I could go
nowhere

so I would
jump

everything
and

imagine I
was going

somewhere

her face was
scientific

supersymmetry

god had a smoke
after he made

her

eyes made of
soul

blue-green
ocean-deep

hypnotic

skin radiant
a polished stone

delicate &
vulnerable

no one would
touch her

afraid of
changing

her

1.  little monsters

there are things inside of me.  pre-historic things.   lizard kings.  things that cannot become words.  some have been buried there for years.  others came alive.  recently.  on their own.  rose from the swamps without intent.  I enter the depths of this unexplored world.  but I am lost without my words.  I have not developed the skills to survive.  amongst these little monsters.

2.  it rains here

her hair.  like her mind.  was scattered.  made of all things deep and muddy.  made me think of the earth.  before corruption.  nature’s reign. she has a soul.  I don’t think.  she always had one. I am possessed by her.  obsessed with her.  she is too young to be ancient.  she is too old to be modern.  she is finishing her sentence.  I will wait for her.  no matter how long it takes.  

3.  awareness

I sit in a corner.  folded hands.  a mild child.  I scream into the lead-paint walls.  and watch my skin peel.  a wild child.  I reach the edges.  consciousness implodes. in my brain.  she wraps herself around me.  thinking I will calm.  eventually.  believing I can be calm. eventually.  I am a snake.  biting myself.  squeezing myself.  shedding my skin.

4.  after math

she escapes.  first she exploded.  inside.  then a year later.  she died.  poison invaded her walls.  poison as a solid can be removed.  poison as a liquid.  or a gas.  spreads everywhere.  inside.  slowly a solid grows again.  and overtakes everything.  good.  and clean.  and then she was no longer.  a name.  or a number.  she could make no payment.  she could not be charged.  anymore.

speak my words

out loud
touch your lips

how do they
feel when they

leave you
are you gasping

for breath

is your mind
spinning

searching for space
speak my words

out loud

are you telling
your secrets

I am haunted
by shadows

the lost dreams
a little boy

held inside
no one heard

his soft voice
so he buried

them in his
deepest parts

where they lost
their connections

rotted and
turned dark

I vaguely remember
this little girl

when I was a little boy
I think she was my

first friend

I don’t remember
what she looked like

I don’t remember
what I looked like

I remember her name
I remember the sadness
we felt

when she moved away

I remember the whispers
in the next room

when her dad died

in a garage
the gas running

funny the things we
remember and the
things we don’t

funny or sad

you will regret it

I do not look
like much

cheap haircut
and sneakers

thick glasses

skinny legs
kind of awkward

almost clumsy

but I am hungry
I will outwork

anyone that plays
against me

I don’t tire and
I don’t care if
I bleed

or you bleed

and honestly
I’m faster than I look

believe me

my team will be the best
because I was picked last

I think the
metaphor

is about
being lost

or perhaps
being unsafe

or being alone
or something

else that is
not to be desired

but I watch
them for hours

sitting one
next to the

other barely
moving

and I feel
nothing

but peace

before you slept

I heard you
pray for peace

it was

a lifetime of
little pains

that led to this

the night god
whispered

your name

plug me in
I want to

feel a force
surging

through me

I want to be
fully charged

I want to be
released

into the machines
I want to be

the power that
energizes the

world to change

I worked at
a dairy

stamped the
date on milk

containers

warning people
when it expires

or it is supposed
to expire

there is no way
of knowing for sure

when we start
to get lumpy

go bad
taste sour

should be
thrown out

I am alone tonight
like most nights

the wind howls
changing into a wolf

I leave my house
to walk

just to walk

loose things move
through the street

trying to block me
or lead me

I end up
somewhere
dark and loud

the skinny ghosts dance
moving into and out of
each other

beginnings and
endings disappear

there are only
moments bleeding
into each other

she walks next
to me
close to me
against me

she is electric
not like lightning
or electrocution

more like static

the sparks that
communicate a
connection

the sparks that scare
without too much harm

at first

Sun sitting high
breathing heat
a sky that sparks
with electric light
never reaching me.

I crawl along
the bottom
scratching
my name
her name
trying to erase
his name
from the sand

breaking bitter nails
too weak to bleed

Acid burns my tongue
I am the other sun
the one bubbling up
from
beneath the surface

Large, ugly birds with silver beaks
the lovers of old meat
wake and immediately
seek my death.

I let them think my death
think I am a carcass
as they circle me.

I eat them whole
when they land.

They feed my isolation
this feeling of being lost
and alone
broken in two
by a wall of ***** wind
***** words
her words
his words
living with
this waiting
for
the taste of wet
the taste of pink
the taste of lips

For a taste of someone else’s spit

this waiting for the
constant dryness of earth
to swallow me whole

to end this drying
of my insides out.

I

I am in a dream
with sullen creatures

we have holes
in our pockets

losing hope and
other pieces of lint

our shadows drip
like icicles
obeying the sun

spreading a little
darkness

down the drain

II

angels love
the smell of water

they cannot swim
so they fly close

enough to feel
the mist

hovering like hummingbirds
so that it covers them

and they drip
with desire

falling in love with
their own odors

III

fairies lift the air

sprinkling silver
dust on everyone

creating stars from
slivers of light

they live and love
in small places

spreading hope
around the world

waiting for all the
sullen creatures

to find them

there have been
moments
when I felt myself
complete

every cell
of body and soul
integrated
alive and
thriving

a universe
inside a universe
giving birth
to another universe

sensitive
to the fluttering
of air
the movement of
butterflies
from anywhere and
everywhere
electrifying my skin

penetrating
making me

come out of
my skin

emerging

with wings
white and thick

a soul aged not old

I have had moments
like this

they always start
when I stand on a cliff

and lift my arms to fly
and I jump

believing I can fly
or someone will catch me

It is ten in the morning and the sun still has not risen. We sit on our balcony sipping scotch and stare at the moon. We think it is the moon that has not set. It must have organized a coup. It has grown jealous of the sun’s attention, feeling itself the lesser god.

We have been outside forever, our language has become foreign to the others, but not to each other.  Our words are sung to each other as if a psalm.  The world that is outside our embrace could have ended and we would not care.  We have been inside each other forever.  I stare at your sad face, framed by the rays of the moon’s subtle heat, and realize again just how beautiful you are.

We see the first awakening of light, the color purple of the bruised moon, and quickly escape to the inside.  We sit side by side in our dark room high above the lifting fog and feel crushed by the rising sun.

Entering an enclave;
an encased little city
in the sky.

I must appear the same
today as yesterday

blue suit, white stripes
a corporate tiger
black shoes, wing tips
an ostrich
because I cannot fly.

I smell the fragrance of the artificial;
emotions set in stone.

I brush against the texture of coats on
the wall, the building up of artifacts.

I can feel the artistry and the
attitudes of the painters

templates of the care taken on both
the good and bad days.

I hear a cough move quickly
through cubicles; a contagion,
a protest song.

If I stand still at the top for long enough
I can see the patterns of movement
beneath me.

I can see atoms dancing to the bumps
and bruises of a life lived in an enclave
in the sky
as if it is a choreography
as if they are living out a plan

but I know there is no plan
only reactions; being set in stone.

she dumps me
over the side

I fall deep
enough

to where I
am without

breath

to where the
ocean asks

me questions
wanting to

know where
I come from

I tell her
my story

she cries her
first tears

and gives me
all the oxygen

she has

so I can live
long enough

to love again

I felt the
darkness

move in
a welcome

guest I made
a bed for us

to rest

I watched
the clouds

cry on my
window the

the most
perfect tears

misshapen circles
about to bleed

I had to capture

them before
the light returned

and they disappeared

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

language is
a skill

before it is art

we all learn
words

and a little
bit about how

to use them
but it takes

practice to
use them well

and passion to
turn them

into spells

the baby
bird makes

noise but it
has to learn

how to sing

long before
me she

settled for you

so when I
arrived I

already didn’t
belong

to anyone

his voice is deep
and fluid

carrying shades
of blue and black

specks of red
in battle scars

I listen to him
he has lived

so many words
and loved so

many pains
a heart held

together by
thin threads

I listen to him

his words
impregnate me

the will be
my children

when I finally
learn to speak

our pants rolled up

bare feet dangling
in a cold lake

touch each other
a little at first

blood flows and
goose pimples grow

each foot has a mind
of its own

slow dancing beneath
the surface

whispering to each other

“the longer we stay
the warmer we get”

I slip-slide into
the vessel of
pain and pleasure

pressure dissolves
into silver glitter
flakes of dreams
leave me
floating over me

I lick them up
count them with
my tongue
and just before
they dissolve
I swallow them

they feel like the
sudden warmth
that makes you
shiver a little

they create
connections
that spread
through me
with intense speed

into deep space
into empty space
turning into
one thing
one pure thing

and for an instant
I am connected

throughout
time and space
connected

merged into being
and nothingness

and just before
I dissolve
I am swallowed
by something
or someone

I am the
sudden warmth
that makes you
shiver a little

they say love
is a breath

don’t think
about it or
you will forget
how to do it

don’t try to hold it
for too long or

it will **** you