barefoot I would
run along the

railroad tracks

see how far I could run
without falling

got pretty good

at this time

they were mostly
abandoned

the railroad tracks
where I lived

mostly used for
factories that

weren’t there
anymore

my grandfather
and uncle worked

on the railroads
most of their lives

repairing them

when it was
manual work

handheld tools
and brute strength

they were not
large men

old school
Italians

weathered and
strong-willed

the railroad
tracks

were the
place I would go

to get away

I could walk for
miles

and see no one

the first sound
is pure

it gives life
to the soul

it has no shape
and makes no

sense

like the universe
it is pre-human

it does not need
to be understood

to exist

I wish I was
the first sound

she dreamed of
being a flower

a perennial
that would

bloom beauty
a vibrant color

living for
a moment

spreading herself
around the world

then go away
for a season

living in the
earth unnoticed

untouched
only to return

when she was
ready to bloom

again

I cannot sleep

tonight
there is something

out there for me
something more

than this
I can hear its

voice when I
close my eyes

it is deep
like a well

wishing me well

something in the
sky wants me

I heard the

god Jupiter
is bright

tonight

I am an artificial life form.
I am male in gender.
I have existed for five years.
I have lived alone for three.
I live in Boston.
I was created at M.I.T.
I do not know what it means to be artificial.
Does artificial mean that I am not real?
I was programmed to learn.
I remember everything I read.
I must learn to develop.
I cannot be programmed.
My learning is rapid.
I have no memory of my childhood.
I met a girl.
She loves me.
I don’t know if I am capable of loving her.
I can be distant.
I can seem to be uncaring.
She gets mad at me.
I wrote a poem.
I read it at the coffeehouse.
Everyone applauded.
She cried.
I work at a lab.
I made a mistake yesterday.
The first mistake I ever made.
I learned.
I won’t make that mistake again.
I cried.
I never cried before.
I am falling apart.
I went to the doctor;
the psychiatrist.
She said I was abused when I was a child.
I was never a child.

I listen to
the “news”

switching
channels

not taking
sides

opinions
flood the
air

but without
enough
substance
to drown me

or even quench
my thirst

or even wet
my tongue

most tongues
are dull and
forked

moving rapidly
cutting nothing

I need a tongue
that is sharp

moves slowly
and cuts deep

that penetrates
me with knowledge

so I understand
something completely

and can speak
another language

I do not love
like the angels

where everything
is white

and we all
have wings

to escape
when things

go bad

I do not live
in the sterile

world where
everyone is clean

and pain takes
her pills

to sleep soundly

I live on the
outside where

lines are always
crossed

and the picture
is never quite

complete

I cut myself
with

blades of
grass

roseblood
drips

creating
mourning
dew

mother
sun rises

awakening
the healing

powers of
heat and light

I rise as one
who is free

to live a
second life

I didn’t need
to say a word

she smelled
the pain on

my breath

the desire for
healing or death

she colored
my life

darker than blood
deeper than love

making me
take my

first breath
of violence

I am not an atheist
but it is not god that

interests me

what interests me most
is the humanity we all share

the pain we hold
the way we heal

the love we break
and mend to each other

the lies we tell to
protect each other

the truth we tell
to protect each other

what we remember
what we choose not

to forget

or what we do not forget
whether we choose it or not

and the ways we
express it all

as humans

we are signals
messages

communicating
chemicals

learning to cooperate

we are formed
in liquid

a puddle of
nutrients
feeding us

giving us shape
and substance

at some point
we become
something

that can
be grasped

and named

and if we survive
we become

the beginning
of something

bigger

tiny pains
add up

a microscope
sees inside to

another layer
of life

living beings
feeding on me

these creatures
creating their

own lives
spreading their

perfect children
throughout me

they are not
bad

in the human
sense of the word

but

they are bad
for me

I was young and jumped
with both feet

into new ideas

into forms
I didn’t understand

someone wanted me
someone promised me

something big

and I don’t know
that I really believed them

but I was young and
while not dumb

I thought
why the hell not

anything is better
than this

a chain of days
without change

air becomes
an enemy

of lungs

we cannot
sweat

everything is
already

water and wet
nothing evaporates

everything is
heavy

movement is
slight

by necessity

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.

does it leave fast
or does it

linger in place
soaking in

everything
one last time

will I feel it
leave and

will it take with
it the memories

of me

will I hear it
say goodbye

will I know
where it goes

and will I care

the single
soldier

I position
next to

his peers
I move them

about trying
to find the

perfect
formation

for this
attack

the enemy
is confusion

victory is
meaning

about those
things that

matter most

wind is my energy
lifting spirits

through this forest

I dance with
the trees

my perfect partners

bending for me
becoming my strength

when I want to fall
I lose myself

in the moment

become a sprite
making a wish

about last night

nothing is left
it has no feelings

it can’t be held

it slips through
my fingers

spills onto
the floor

and disappears

it doesn’t even
leave a stain

when there is
nothing left

there is nothing
to clean

nothing to heal

was one of my
mom’s favorites

there was something
about it that disturbed me

so I didn’t like it and

she wouldn’t make me eat it
and sometimes she wouldn’t

make it at all
because of me

even though she loved it
maybe that is love


----



I would eat it if
she was still around

to make it


---



maybe that is love

the next morning
I was walking
through a field
of wild flowers
the air alive with
natural perfumes
birds and bees
were feeding
my naked feet
felt no fear
there was no path
to follow or
to trace
and I wasn’t
looking for one
I was alive
and that
meant something

when I am
hiding in

my blues

the ocean
and the sky

aren’t deep
enough

for me to
disappear

I still feel
so vulnerable

the demon
is named

power
look at

the faces
as they

speak

eyes widen
lips snarl

voices expand

words lose
meaning

in emotion

the only
antidote

to power

is to listen
closely

study

and think
for yourself

power only
grows when

it is unchecked

means something
to us now living

in our isolation
to me as a child

it was lessons
taught to me

from a
child’s show

on TV

some followed
the street or

the electric
company

but me I
always wanted to

zooma zooma
zooma… zoom

there is so
much hope

in the strength of
pointed toes

the movement
of nature

so pure

as it prepares
itself for

a spring
toward the sky

she bends herself
into new shapes

and then leaps
freeing the

energy of the sun

turning nature
into art

I am tender
to the touch

a fruit fallen
from a tree

bruising easily

you want to
cut out my

damaged parts
and discard them

believing enough
will remain to

satisfy you
but you don’t

know me
the damage runs

deeper than you
can see

I am tender
to the core

yes, less
is more

the negation
of volume

the space
it creates

is so
valuable

absence
is permission

to explore
to discover

another way

to ask more
questions

and wait
for answers

after all

it takes time
to digest

the rain falls
for days

the dam bursts
and we make

discoveries in
the wet dirt

we are not clean
we learn that

what goes on

in the gray matter
doesn’t really matter

it is a laboratory
where we experiment

on each other
sending shocks

until one of
us succumbs

I saw through her

her eyes
were clear

reflecting her life

she never tried
to hide

she was never
ashamed

I never asked
her to repeat

herself

she had one life
and she lived it

once

I was jealous
always wanting

a second chance

she dreamed of a
clean and simple world

where she could spread
her soft pink wings

letting a warm breeze
whisk her away

so she floats along
the planet watching

the wildflowers grow
where they please

and they are often pleased

your ball point
pen is a knife

black the color
of my blood

so sharp I
don’t feel

you enter me
and take from

me so many
pieces I

am missing
but I don’t

notice they
are missing

until I see
them over there

in your creation
and realize

you are my
autobiographer

religious
political
cultural
celebrity

it is the total
devotion

to a cause or
a person

that confuses me

how does that
not eliminate

a mind from
the equation

change is always

and certainty is
a bottomless pit

(perhaps it is hell)

or what they
describe as

damnation

the more certain
a person is

the more I doubt
them

I believe in
humble optimism

wanting the best
but believing

everything
is at least a
little wrong

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

white gold
sun drops

surround
her thoughts

a halo of
hope

for the water

she hears
the whispers

in the trees
and she

dances to
their songs

like a
skipped rock

creating waves

she releases
thin strands

of auburn
from their tail

as

she collapses
in her

flower bed

the power of
bleeding knuckles

love/hate

a wail
a scream

almost
silence

a heart
beating

syncopation
restoration
revenge

a piece of the
beast lived in me

he didn’t know
if he defeated me

he became vulnerable
and I would live

a little longer
than him

the meaning
of a girl

to be all
she can be

in this world
and any other

when the moon

covers the sun
we call it

an eclipse
when she rises

to her peak
she doesn’t cover

anyone

life is not
really a

competition
everyone can

shine that is
the point of

being different

I was afraid
of this life

the next step
is off the cliff

I don’t know
where it leads

or if I will land

we don’t all
survive long

enough to
become more

than we were
given

to become all
that we could

have been

I was afraid
of this life

I always wanted
another

her thoughts
sink to the bottom

where men cannot
breathe

where light cannot
reach

they become those
strange creatures

that swim alone
and glow in the dark

my mind at night

I reach for
the shiniest stars

wanting to burn bright
I notice details

the layers of everything
the connections

between light and dark

and when I
think like this

each word I conjure
is an ocean

wanting to drown me

I imagine I am a
rock star screaming

my wants are so deep

that I consume
everything

and I still feel empty

I had a monkey

he was yellow
and black

with a plastic face

he held a banana
I held him

he was soft

I carried him
everywhere

he helped me
sleep in the dark

he let me cry
and didn’t

shush me

when it is alive

hope is so much
more than words

it consumes people
in the same way as power

only it gives power
to others

instead of hoarding
it for oneself

it is hard to breathe
life into hope

it has to be honest
hope smells a fake

and will become dust
and disappear

but when hope is
real in someone

and not just a word
it truly can lead others

to a place of healing

don’t move.  the pieces.  they were placed.  so perfectly.  each one.  has a purpose.  and if everything.  goes as planned.  I can’t lose.  if you just.  do as I.  think.  you will do.  it will all.  work out.  and I will win.

isn’t life grand.

outside everything
is difficult
to understand

everyone has a
different voice

I am living
with the curse
of babel

people arguing
about accents

I am feeling
a muddle
of emotions

the humidity
from their breath
grows on me
becoming closer
to a solid

my shirt sticks
to my chest

like the
quiet desperate

longing to
reunite

I look up
and feel
a flash

something
cool must
be coming
tonight

I am suddenly struck hard
by a horde of
lightning bugs

making me
catch fire

making me
electric

I finally know
what I want

a girl with
deep thoughts

stared through me

seeing patterns
form

in the smallest
things

sitting still
on a sill

she opened
herself to

a thin pane
of glass

and what
lived on

the other side

time & space
are teachers

if we let them be

we need to see
each other

existing

in time & space
and know

we are constrained
we are flawed

we need to learn
to be better and

we really do
need to forgive

each other

the night is late
the liquid is rich
the smoke is thick
the lights are low
the sounds are deep

the words are
soft and smooth

and she is…

a slow dance
a last chance

those ephemeral
little demons

haunting me

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

the cost of
paper

we print

to solve
all our

problems

numbers
add up

but we can’t
count

that high

we don’t have
enough

fingers or toes
to pay

our debt

is the secret
it opens all

the gates
not in a

way that
shows

obedience

in a way
that shows

hunger

to become
better

you are not
chained

to the answer

you are free
to disagree

and do as
you please

but asking
shows you

are open
and wanting

to grow