Words Spilt.

Lack of Decorum

2010-04-11T03:44:00.001-07:00

Lack of Decorum

Can’t you see that every word you let fall from your lips
only makes me want to trace patterns of the stars
into every inch of the pale expanse of your skin,
to hear what your breath sounds like
when it’s expelled in a long exhale,
to watch your eyes widen at my impropriety,
to feel your bones beneath my hands.
This is a study of science: biology, chemistry,
the way my blood churns, my thoughts,
a rebel army, desperately climbing over all my walls.
I grind my teeth against this need to take in every part of you,
the same thought echoes off the far reaches of my brain,
every fiber of rationality is screaming no
but the way my tongue touches my lips,
the way my fingers ache to find their fill of you
seems to overtake anything my mind could throw at me.
I long for anything to blame, but these unbecoming fantasies
are mine and mine alone, my own yearning,
built on our rapport and my ache to press these lips to yours,
to be one with the wonder that is you, if only for a fleeting moment,
if only for one night, to calm my nerves and drink you in
so you can stay here forever, right underneath my skin.

Legends Never Die

2010-03-24T01:06:00.003-07:00

Legends Never Die

In the darkness, headlights look like stars. We spin
underneath the heavens, carefree, perfect. I remember
long nights and mornings, spent talking about
everything, and nothing. We spilt secrets, dissected
the most trivial of matters, cried on each other’s shoulders.
The color of love is really a rainbow,
and every time you peel off your fishnets, I light up
like a ferris wheel. We’re more a side show
than a group of friends, banding together because we’re different,
freak flags flying high, our fists clenched against the world. I’m
the bright flash of your hair against the sky, the sound
of maniac laughter spilling out of jam-packed cars. We have no need
for seatbelts, rules, restrictions. I’m jolted from my near catatonic state.
My entire internal structure feels made of shared moments,
bare feet and high heels, bowls of plastic fruit and dining room tables,
a vast expanse between us like the Mojave desert,
we traverse it with Taco Bell wrappers, Mountain Dew cans,
and laughter. I’m spellbound by how easily we fit together,
brand-new puzzle pieces, unspoiled and un-lost, our arms and legs
and fingers and toes combining readily when we cram 5 people
onto a futon or in the back of a car, hands holding hands,
discussing adventures to downtown to wander the streets,
smoke cigarettes, or to the airport to run down hallways,
cause havoc, have photo shoots. I remember dancing
around the living room with no pants on, practicing Rocky Horror
at 3 in the morning when we’d been drinking, coloring
in Disney coloring books, taping our masterpieces to the wall
while we realize Sebastian is red, causing fits of stoned giggles.
We drove everywhere in the middle of the night: Wal-Mart,
friend’s houses, Downtown Disney. We infiltrated theme parks,
our sticky fingers not quite getting us in trouble, we
counted up our loot and watched movies all night. Days existed
for sleeping, fast food and Harry Potter, laying on the couch,
playing video games, shirking responsibility. We were unemployed,
or slightly employed, or students, or all of the above. We spun through days
like tops, whirling, always on the move, unstoppable. The fallout,
a drunken haze. Fist fights, word fights, snow globes and sleeping with a knife
under my pillow. We parted: scared, sad, angry, defiant.
None of us willing to admit when we were wrong. The mountain we made
imploded, burying us in the wreckage, we struggled to survive.
The dust is gone, I can see clearly now, that we were heroes and legends,
and legends never die.

Slipping

2010-03-24T01:06:00.001-07:00

Slipping

It’s only natural that you should
cling to me, to us, to what we were
or what we had, the stuff that’s gone.
I can feel that old desire stir, a
long-sleeping tiger, awakened,
I’m stretching out after hibernation.
My heart is fully encompassed,
given away, held under lock and key,
by the one who picked me up,
pieced me back together, made me
whole again, the one I love so fiercely.
I cannot give it to you. This union
can never be, my once love,
down tiger, down. I slip into fantasy,
wander lost through the real world,
so confused. Can’t you see,
I’m slipping?

Burn It Down

2010-03-24T01:03:00.001-07:00

Burn It Down

Down the rabbit hole,
through the looking glass,
opposite side of the mirror
upside down. This world
is like Wonderland on acid,
the expanses of my mind,
multi-colored and bright,
a rainbow in July.
My eyes are pinwheel prisms
reflected off the stars. Stretch
my fingers out like taffy,
I’m long-handed like an outlaw,
but my six-shooter is made of glass
and when it shoots, I shatter.
You hair glitters, diamonds,
my fingertips run through it
bleeding, bleeding.
Our teardrops are but rain,
we will water the plants with our eyes.
When our bodies come together,
thunder echoes off the wall
like a thousand of burst balloons.
The energy between us could
power this entire city, if
we weren’t so keen to simply
burn it down, and frolic
in its ashes.

Oz

2010-03-24T01:00:00.001-07:00

Oz

When I start to miss you,
I feel I’m melting. I shrink down
to a river, and try to flow to you,
arms and legs flailing.
I can’t pull myself away.
I let myself fall down,
down, every feeling like
a fire bomb, destroying my walls
again. I don’t feel this.
I feel none of this, he is the dam,
keeping me at bay, he captures me
like a net captures a butterfly,
his arms encircle me and I feel
like I am home. You were the tornado,
and I was Dorothy, but he is Kansas,
and when I click my heels,
it’s to him I’ll always return.

Remember

2010-03-24T00:47:00.001-07:00

Remember

My hands are still warm
from the last time they held you,
my eyes are still dry
as if we’d never met.
My legs are still sore
from our late night encounters,
my fingertips still tingle
at the memory of touch.
We melted together, a
child’s shrinking toy in the oven,
arms and legs combining, creating
some monster, made of pleasure,
pain, and loss. We were solace,
sound and fury, over in a fleeting moment,
never to be again.

Orbit

2010-03-24T00:45:00.000-07:00

Orbit

I feel like a tiny planet
abandoned at the edge
of your universe,
light-years away from you,
the sun. You don't even know I exist.
You callously cut me to the core,
left me to bleed out, alone.
I'm Pluto, too small and insignificant,
too far away from you to really
make a difference.
I'm not even in your orbit.

Crashing Into the Fall

2009-10-20T20:07:00.001-07:00

Crashing Into the Fall

Maybe it’s just Autumn.
The leaves are falling.
the air begins to smell like Winter,
and I am finding myself again.
Maybe I don’t need this distraction
right now, or ever, but
you’ve burrowed under my skin
and heart, to my very soul.
You’ve cut me to the core.
I’m a boat, abandoned at sea
and you, the lighthouse,
but no one’s home
and I’m crashing.

Fresh and Fresher; Hope and Hopeless

2009-10-20T20:06:00.001-07:00

Fresh and Fresher; Hope and Hopeless

Hopeless romantic
or perhaps I’m simply
hopeless. Stolen moments,
fleeting. I get precious seconds
before you’re gone,
a butterfly beautiful,
flighty, riding the breeze,
one fancy to the next.
Who are you to me?
Nothing is simple.
I reach into my holster
and draw nothing but blanks.
My mind is emptier than your words,
I’m clueless.
My fists still clench in anger
at the thought.
You’re a modern Rembrandt
longing for fresh new canvas
to fill with your colors,
but this masterpiece was finished
many years ago.
I hardly need new paint.
I cannot bear that burden,
for you or any man.

Making Love, Sustainable

2009-06-21T22:46:00.001-07:00

Making Love, Sustainable

In the sparse darkness of the night,
my features are frail ghosts
straining to break free.
Your eyes are the only focal point,
small winking stars
keeping me moving steady,
like a king on a great pilgrimage
I am coming to you.
I would gladly hide behind
a jeweled and feathered mask,
cover my insecurities with fancy linen
and line up for the waltz,
press palm to stranger’s palm
in a foreign country,
but my life isn’t meant
for such worldly scenes.
It is meant for you.
I would offer my heart
on a platter of silver,
my soul in a fancy bottle,
if I thought it would be enough.
You’ve been my life boat
when everything in my world
was nothing but a sinking cruise liner,
when my entire life
broke in half like the Titanic,
and I was left drowning in its wake.
You reached your hand into the deep,
glimmering oblivion of night,
searched through the debris,
and found me
like I was a newly minted pearl.
You shaped me, like clay,
hiding all my faults,
revealing all the beauty
trapped inside my tortured soul.
We are the pharaohs of affection,
an eternal pair of lovers
brought together across sky,
sea, earth, and time.
When all things come to an end,
you and I will float
like butterflies,
above the ruins of cities.

Conquer

2009-04-23T22:20:00.001-07:00

Conquer

I am not afraid.
I wish to lay bare before you,
flayed open to your eyes,
completely exposed. I am
willing to be unwrapped
like a present on Christmas morning,
all my surprises revealed
to your naked eye. Treat me as
your canvas, blank and ready
to be painted, to be filled
with color. I am clay, yearning
to be molded by your capable,
eager hands.
You are my golden calf,
I worship at your feet,
forsaking any higher power
than the love you give, I
am a staunch believer
in your religion,
preach to me. Reach
to me. Across lonely miles
or oceans, rivers or valleys,
mountains and towns.
I will feel you, no matter how far
you may be, no distance is
too vast, no burden too great.
You are the only star
in my nighttime sky, a
single lighthouse beacon
calling to me in the darkness,
leading me home across the sea.
You’ve found me, hidden
like treasure, untouched
by human hands for centuries,
a fossil encased in a limestone tomb,
cushioned by years of dirt and time,
of progress. You discovered me
like a new continent,
claiming me for your own.
I have been conquered.

We Are Love

2009-04-23T22:19:00.003-07:00

We Are Love

We weren’t born for
the world of champagne,
pearls, masquerade thrills,
Egyptian cotton sheets
or expensive high-heeled shoes.
You know how we prefer
cigarette smoke against the sky,
late-night marathon conversations,
holes in our fishnets, our hearts,
our cardigans. Tattoos of
broken hearts or black widows or ballet dancers,
chipped nail polish and illegal substances,
wild car rides and sequined bustiers,
our pride bolstered by
how great we look in thigh highs
or pancake makeup,
our corsets and high-heels.
We’re the scavengers, the
art nouveau – young, or
old, with our choppy hair
or heavy-lidded eyes, waves
and red lipstick, pressing
our lips together outside, inside,
under fluorescents or sunlight.
We’re hands clasped together
late in the night, magnets
with opposite pulls.
We’re the vampires of this fair city,
burning easily in daylight but
owning the streets after midnight,
unkempt and savage,
brutal but beautiful. We are
the lovers, the dancers, the dreamers.
We’re the music-makers
and the artistes. We spin our tales,
our webs, the heads of passerby,
we break into song and
steal hearts. We are thieves in the night,
vandals and scoundrels
hooligans and whores.
We are love. And we do not apologize.

Kryptonite

2009-04-23T22:19:00.001-07:00

Kryptonite

You see me as perfect,
but I am no heroine.
I can’t control my own fate,
let alone the fate of the world.
I’m unable to leap tall buildings
in a single bound, walk through walls,
or see through time. I’m more
kryptonite than Lois Lane,
far more likely to impede
than to help. Glorious, decadent.
I’ll sneak up on you like a ninja,
and you’ll never even see me coming.

Always and Forever

2009-04-23T22:18:00.000-07:00

Always and Forever

Syrup sweet, your tough
is like heroin to
my system, overload,
overcome, overflowing,
with love and with joy,
I just can’t fathom being
anywhere but here, with
anyone but you. You
are my bridge, my boat,
my ocean. My savior.
I’m always and forever,
yours.

Enchantment

2009-04-07T19:25:00.001-07:00

Enchantment

Blinking signs. Stars.
Cars are killer whales
in the ocean of the dark.
I draw breaths like inspiration,
crumpled thoughts, napkins,
unfinished concepts in my mind.
You can’t change the channel,
push some button –
get a smile instead of this
Technicolor attitude,
curled like tendrils of ivy.
I'm sunshine inkblots,
wooden cubed,
silk-interiored. Unbelievable.
You’re a doctor in your own right,
sterile-gloved, heart
still beating in your chest.
Isn’t this how love should be?
Fragile-winged, like
first-born fledglings in Spring,
simple, tragic,
and beautiful.

Anyone But Me

2009-01-14T02:02:00.000-08:00

Anyone But Me

“Where did you sleep last night?
And was she worth it?
Was she worth it?” – Cher

You’d rather find solace in a stranger’s curves,
bury your face in a foreign shoulder, press
your lips to unknown skin instead
of wrapping your hands around my hips,
kissing these lips that know yours so well.

You’d rather wake in a stranger’s bed,
the scent of her house lingering on you
like the cheap perfume I’m sure she wears,
the cheap moves she pulled to get you
exactly where she wanted you.

You’d rather touch a stranger’s face,
feel new lips under your fingers,
run your hands down her curved cheeks
and pretend I never existed,
that this is actually making you happy.

You’d rather be her one night stand,
a notch in her proverbial bed post,
another conquest for her to brag about
or the reason she breaks
someone else’s heart.

You’d rather be with anyone else.
Anyone but me.

Slip (Back)

2009-01-14T01:56:00.001-08:00

Slip (Back)

I’m broken in the wake
of your harsh disappointments
(my reality), the way you
callously cut me out of your heart
like a surgeon, removing me
like I was nothing more
than an ingrown fingernail,
a pesky clogged artery.
Your eyes would reveal
multitudes (I’m sure)
if only I could gaze into them,
I know they’d betray you
which is why, perhaps,
you choose to stay so far from me
(afraid) that you’d slip
back into my arms
and I’d slip back into your heart.

Break

2008-08-28T19:59:00.003-07:00

Break

I don’t need –
your sympathy,
used theorems
on the quantum mechanics
of attraction,
distraction,
chemical reaction.
Of the breaking
of glass,
shattering preconceptions.
You fond –
solace
in my curves,
sinuous synapses,
tender heart
but no pull
of the ocean waves
no gravity,
no phases of the moon.
I’m left –
with shards
of words, stabbing
like rakes,
emotions
dripping
from chandeliers
like blood,
with no one
but me
to blame.

Solace, and Ocean Waves

2008-08-28T19:59:00.001-07:00

Solace, and Ocean Waves

Can I find solace
in what you’ve left me here?
Broken heart, bruised ego,
swollen lips. Tattered memories
of our very last kiss, last touch.
Your body wrapped around mine
in the dark, so close I could
feel your pulse against my back,
intrinsically knowing “this is home”,
“this is home”. I was wrong.
You didn’t join us in the water,
choosing instead to beach yourself
on the sand, and it should have been
a sign of distance, of distancing yourself
but I never noticed. And now, I cry
myself to sleep at night,
wishing you had chosen me.

Poets & Liars

2008-08-28T19:58:00.001-07:00

Poets & Liars

Plato penned poets as liars.
Thrice removed from the subjects of their idolations,
their knowledge sorely lacking,
easily dismissed from society were they.
If this rings true, my dear,
then I, among all poets, am most wicked,
penning half-truths to, and of, you
until you cannot stomach
my saccharine praises –
of hand and eye and foot,
of touch, of voice.
My odes ring too deep
for our half-winded love affair.
We were over before we’d begun,
just pottery fragments
discarded by the failing artist,
another grand liar, like me.

Mirror, Mirror

2008-08-28T19:54:00.002-07:00

Mirror, Mirror

Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
I’m not the fairest of them all.
My hair’s too dull, my eyes too dark,
I lack that certain, vital spark.
The boys, they laugh instead o stare,
I’m not beautiful beyond compare.
My legs are long but far too thick,
I’m slow and lazy, my mind’s not quick.
I run away instead of fight,
my will too weak, my strength too light.
My hands, they shake, when he is near,
he envies my height, I’m full of fear.
This heart of mine, it falls too fast,
my love affairs burn too hot to last.
The tears I shed turn not to gems,
I’m far too pitiful for any men.
This cross I bear, easily it lifts,
when I’m onstage, I show my gifts.
For this voice I have, none can compare.
I am much more when I’m up there.

Other Than You

2008-08-28T19:54:00.001-07:00

Other Than You

Okay, so we’ll play this game,
I’ll pretend I don’t love you
and you’ll pretend not to care
when I cry myself to sleep
or throw my arms around you
and beg you not to go.
You lose yourself in her, but
are you thinking of me instead,
are you remembering
the way my lips taste,
how my eyes roll back
and my fingers gripped your shoulders,
how you kissed me
like you never wanted to let me go?
I can’t see myself with anyone
else, even when he touches me
I can’t feel anything but
your touch, I see your face,
lips open, breath coming heavy,
the way your eyes scrunched up
when you let yourself go,
when we crested this wave
together. He never cares, you see.
I don’t want to see myself
with anyone else,
other than you.

Nymphette

2008-08-28T19:49:00.002-07:00

Nymphette

She twirls, an innocent
pixie dust pirouette,
glittering in the lamplight,
a stray carnival pinwheel.
He is still, on the sidewalk,
transfixed, as her dress
blows upward in the wind
and he cannot help but stare.
Expanse of leg, pretty, turned ankle,
knobby knee.
She laughs and he longs
to be the source of her laughter,
the pale, upturned face,
long lashes, eyes dark
with forbidden thoughts.
His hand reaches out,
grasps a curl,
and she is gone,
traipsing through the lavender
back to safety’s door.
A whisper on the wind –
“I’ll wait for you”.

Bonded

2008-08-28T19:49:00.001-07:00

Bonded

Flood me in your ocean.
I’m ready, to sink or swim,
to be pulled along the sandy bottom,
just please don’t let go
until I’m ready.
I’m so unsure, unsteady,
on these newfound legs
like a colt, learning to stand.
I’ll get there, I just need
you, to lean on, for a moment,
only a moment.
It hurts to spread these wings.
I know I need, I feel, I yearn,
to fly. But it’s terrifying.
You pull me back to earth
by a tether, not a leash,
more like an unspeakable bond
that holds us together.

Morgan

2008-08-28T19:45:00.001-07:00

Morgan

This is the promised land,
this stretch of bed between us
where our hands form bridges,
fingers curled tightly.
Where our lips first met
and introduced me to love,
our heads spinning
and I had to pull away
just to breathe awhile.

Replaceable

2008-08-28T19:36:00.001-07:00

Replaceable

Fool me once, shame on you,
fool me twice, shame on me.
So place the shame, give me the blame,
because I let myself forgive you
over and over again,
claiming you had changed.
We were two halves of the same whole,
or a fire burning out of control,
burning far too hot to last.

Quiet intimacies in the darkness,
the only sound breaking over us
was our whispered intentions.
How could you throw it away so easily?
I didn’t know I was as replaceable
as you could make me feel.

Zoo Welcomes Baby Giraffe to Herd

2008-05-05T23:32:00.001-07:00

Zoo Welcomes Baby Giraffe to Herd

The African Savannah is the perfect place for raising
wild insecurities, breathing rich summer air untainted by
man-made chemicals, smog, traffic. As in, I am feral and untamed.
As in, do not claim to own me. Giraffes give birth standing up,
ejecting their young into the world like a rewound videotape
ready to be watched, throwing the foal onto its feet,
hoping it will stand. I’m partial to open jeep rides across the reserve,
leaves clenched tight in my palm, priceless emeralds
lifted from my sweating fingers by curled, black tongues.
They are always hungry. I cannot fathom this,
not when I’m watching a sea of spots dancing across the grassland,
patient, plodding adults and small, perfectly formed calves,
graceful hooves picking around holes and imperfections,
necks stretching above my outstretched arm, curling
around my waist, trapping me in their muscular embrace.
Being here, in this moment, wet saliva dripping off my knuckles,
skin red and peeling underneath the wide brim of a safari hat,
means everything. It is who I have become now, forsaking
floral bed sheets and penguin calendars for nights brimming with stars,
soft grass beneath my calloused feet. This feeling,
of knowing that everything is so much bigger than me
is overwhelming, underappreciated. It hurts to think about it.
Giraffes live in small, loose groups, like knitting circles,
that change, the ebb and flow of the ocean, the young
never left alone but watched over like human offspring in a daycare.
Children fight over everything from trucks to dolls, engaging
in drawn out shouting matches with well-placed punches to
underdeveloped shoulder muscles or round cheeks. Male giraffe calves too
engage in play fighting, before they are a month old. This does not bode well
for giraffe society. I often read in the shadow of giants,
stretching my neck out as far as possible, wishing
for hooves instead of fingers, the tail I lost in the womb,
long spindly legs. My field guide states that calves are 6 feet tall at birth.
Forgive me, but I want nothing more than to be reborn.

Case #98067

2008-05-05T23:31:00.001-07:00

Case #98067

Age: 21.
Eagle tattoo on the shoulder.
Clothing included
a leather jacket, orange polo,
and a pronounced lack of style.
Sex: Male. His nose turns
slightly up at the end.
His eyebrows were trimmed,
but his watch face melted.
Race: White. Even though
the burns cover over
seventy percent of the body,
he died in neatly pressed slacks.
Date of Death: May 5th, 2008.
The piñata exploded upon contact.
The police are investigating,
but, so far, have failed in finding
any leads. Donkeys are herbivorous
in the wild, but this one
must have been raised in captivity.
Autopsy findings: muscle atrophy.
Concentrated largely in the area of
the heart, extending the length
of his torso. His fingertips
are perfectly round and clean.
Degenerative joint changes. The
soles of his feet match
the color of early cave paintings
in Lascaux, France. Toxicology:
abnormal levels of carbon monoxide
present within the lungs. The lyrics
to popular love songs promote
spur of the moment hook ups
inside parked cars. Broken hearts
kill no one.

Cause of Death: suffocation,
third degree burns, poison. He
choked to death on his own heart.

Dante didn’t know…

2008-04-08T17:31:00.001-07:00

Dante didn’t know…

that babykillers are sometimes accidentally christened so,
their only intent: to silence their child’s screaming,
not forever, but just for the moment. Their hand too
heavy for a soft child’s skull to absorb impact from,
or breathe around, due to a runny nose. Perhaps they
shook just a tad too hard in the middle of play,
realizing, too late, that infantile necks are too
underdeveloped to withstand rough play, panicking
when their child went too still in their arms.

The ones who get away with it, how do they live
with the guilt? Do they lay flowers on the
fresh mound of earth in their backyards, that
tiny little grave a constant reminder, or do they
avoid the place, afraid the neighbors will notice
in a way they don’t when lost pets are likewise interred?
How can find answers to friend’s innocent queries,
hastily concocting lies, all the while hearing the phantom cries
of their late child reverberating through their house?
Maybe they have come to believe in their own words.

Did you know, Dante, that not all murder is calculated?
That not all lust is intentional? Perhaps in your day
everything was carefully planned out, but nowadays,
these things can happen so accidentally. It’s not apocalyptic.
Just normal. A prostitute enrages a patron who chokes her,
a little too hard, during routine business. He never stops,
never questions her silence, her too pliable yielding underneath him,
until he’s finished, and she still hasn’t moved or opened her eyes.
Does he deserve to be punished or was this a simple encounter with fate?

Sometimes suicides make sense. The abused teen,
the alcoholic asleep at the wheel, the child discovering electricity
through a fork and outlet. Maybe hatchmarks on forearms
are museum masterpieces in other dimensions. Maybe
toasters are asking to be poked at with knives, their seductive voices
audible to only a chosen few, those they know will listen.
Why do we punish those who are too scared to live?
Shouldn’t we comfort them instead?

Faker

2008-04-08T17:15:00.000-07:00

Faker

The eye can only stretch so far.
Your perception of me is nothing new,
nothing these ears haven’t heard before.
Why not dissect me like a frog,
pin me down, unzip my costume
and expose exactly what lies inside:
sharp edges, sarcasm,
lengthy explanations for useless information,
endless wide-eyed expressions
of love or lust, or both.
Behind this beating heart,
can you see the Nothing?
It’s seeping, seeping
into every organ, out of every pore,
fading me to empty.
Don’t worry, everything can be
fixed easily with cosmetic surgery,
I’ll become faker than your child’s
Barbie doll. It seems to be the trend.

Sestina on Childhood

2008-03-26T00:12:00.003-07:00

Sestina on Childhood

She used to wander her small world for hours,
searching for the Holy Grail in her backyard
or the shadows of Roman warriors, once revered.
We tumbled down hills, head over feet,
laughing about detoxification and Catholic guilt,
discussing love we’d never share.

On Halloween, we combined our candy and took our share,
rolling on the floor, sugar high, throughout the hours,
even under our mother’s gazes, rays of guilt.
When it rained, we stayed out in the backyard,
getting soaked to the skin, dirt caking our feet,
dancing like the pop stars we revered.

They seem foolish now, half those things I revered.
You, bringing cookies shaped like dinosaurs to share,
I, crying, when mine broke in pieces at my feet.
We slaved our Easy Bake ovens for hours,
never producing anything worth eating, the backyard
distracted us too much, calling, the smoke masking our guilt.

In church, we learnt that Jesus died for us, the guilt
we felt at causing this made it seem less revered,
like we had to feel bad, or something. Backyard
shenanigans ceased for days, instead we sought to share
plastic rosaries, bent over them like miniature saints, hours
meant nothing. In our heads, we were washing Jesus’ feet.

On her birthday, we captured a lizard. His feet
were foreign stars, poking out from between our fingers, our guilt
at breaking off his tail subsided when we learned, hours
later, that it would grow back. We revered
our new pet, building him houses out of twigs. He’d share
them with the other lizards, we decided. A reptile’s backyard.

We snuck around the wooden fence that bisected my backyard,
forced to tramp through the lake’s edge, our feet
squelching in the mud. We slipped along the bank, our share
of adventure waiting, the only thing on our minds, not guilt
or worry over whether our parents would approve, revered
temples forefront in our thoughts, ancient wonders to fill the hours.

We shared a backyard when we were young, when guilt
Meant little more than apologizing for un-wiped feet, revered
Carpet received its share of dirt, and we grew through the hours.

Geometrics

2008-03-26T00:12:00.001-07:00

Geometrics

I draw triangles. They
decorate the margins
of my paper. Inside
their complicated structure
lies treasures. The trick is,
connect with them.
Build them like pyramids.
Bury dead children inside them.
Color in the empty ones.
Shed tears. Cry for lost dreams.
Cry for the innocent.
Bury cats in them. Bury dogs.
Imagine butterflies
winging high above them.
I create social structures.
Whole caste systems exists,
unaided, within these triangles.
Imagine thousands of
notepaper pyramids, emerging
from the sound of minds
coloring landscapes,
changing worlds.

How to Break a Heart

2008-03-26T00:11:00.000-07:00

How to Break a Heart

Misuse it. Abuse it.
Insult it. Revolt it.
Kick it when its down.
Make fun of its taste
in novels, music, and technology.
Call it too old fashioned.
Split your time between it
and another. Lie to it.
Ignore it, or, better yet,
smother it. Talk about it,
behind its back,
to anyone who will listen,
or when it is right beside you.
Make jokes at its expense.
Call it names. Screen its calls.
Steal its innocence, or charm.
Disagree with its worldly view.
Make it cry. Rape it. Cut it.
Pillage. Sweet talk it and then
leave it wanting. Tell it how much you care,
then don’t return its calls,
pretend it doesn’t exist,
make plans with other hearts,
and leave it behind to bleed.

Pastel Skeletons

2008-03-26T00:02:00.001-07:00

Pastel Skeletons

Define us by what we aren’t.
Let it roll off your tongue,
it’ll roll off our backs
just as easily.
We become ancient shadows,
stalking at the edges
of your melodramatic self-conscious.
Just because the past
holds the top billing
on your weekly shopping list,
you’ll look down your noses at us,
as if we’re some disease.
You cannot cure us.
We’re not some disaster area,
please don’t try to excavate us
into nothing.

Invertebrate Psychology

2008-03-25T23:57:00.001-07:00

Invertebrate Psychology

To analyze earthworm brainwaves,
first attach a lie detector –
one electrode to each segment.
Be careful, these are
slippery creatures, lying
all through their dirt buffets,
slithering out of conversations
where awkward situations arise.
Next, grill the subject,
but not literally!
Oh.

Love Means Chihuahuas

2008-03-25T23:56:00.001-07:00

Love Means Chihuahuas

I long to press close to you,
until breath melts into friction,
straining the laces
that keep my aching body
from being one with yours.
We will learn to talk through mirrors,
interchange our hearts for crimson,
satin, formal wear.
When we are nothing but
exhausted skeletons,
echoes of lovers that once were,
our fingerprints will stay
carved into your bed frame,
like Egyptian hieroglyphics.

Moving

2008-03-18T21:12:00.001-07:00

Moving

The writers are moving,
ebbing and flowing like the ocean
washing shells and twigs
up onto the beach.
Her eyelids flutter shut
for the last time, last time
they reopened to gaze into his.
Not today. This time
is moving like the writers,
across a sea of well wishers,
across a sea of bliss.

Best Friends

2008-03-18T21:10:00.001-07:00

Best Friends

Take down the Christmas tree,
it’s already March. No, wait, I’d rather
bask in its insipid, dead, tinsel glory.
See, the monorail runs twice daily
on the plastic track that circles
the evergreen’s base and Epcot globe,
the one you broke apart
to combat me with
when I chased you with a knife,
around the spacious living room.
Remember back in October
when we danced to Thriller
on this very same carpet?
Now I play Superman
on the island in the kitchen
while you heat up hamburgers
for out late night snack.
Your mother must think we’re insane.

Growing Up

2008-03-18T21:01:00.000-07:00

Growing Up

“I hate celery”, you’ve been known to declare.
“No, not hate. Hate is too strong a word.”
I taught you that, you know,
not to hate, not to hit or bite or pull hair.
My words shaped your semi-conscious
just like our hands now shape birds,
horses, fruit, out of modeling clay.
How I long for those days you played dress up,
carting dolls around like your own children
or cleaning house with brooms and dustpans.
Now you answer the phone when I call,
telling me in almost-perfect English
about the Tonka truck you want for Christmas.

Rhyming with Lust

2008-03-18T21:00:00.001-07:00

Rhyming with Lust

I’m not one for rhymes.
I haven’t got the time, you see.
My minutes are too valuable
to be spent comparing words
to tropical birds, my mind aches
just to think on it. Underwater,
I can abandon reason,
but it isn’t the right season
for swimming in crystal clear lakes.
It’s too cold where I’ve been,
wind keeps you from feeling
anything but the chill,
it will, and everything freezes,
including the breezes.
Fast forward to us holding hands,
bangs in my eyes,
your hands on me under the table
making me unable to move,
unwilling to go, anywhere
but here.

Writing For You

2008-03-18T20:57:00.000-07:00

Writing For You

I will try to write you a poem,
plain-spoken, containing
no questions. My lips
will gush like a fountain
until you’re nothing more
than a goldfish in the sea.
You’ll need a morphine drip
to relieve the weight
of all my heaviest emotions.
I believe in happy endings
but we’ve never discussed our own,
not to the point where
happily ever after
comes into play,
an ace in the hole.
I’ll give you a grave,
we’ll fill it with our doubts
and dance until midnight is through.

Permeating

2008-02-27T12:43:00.001-08:00

Permeating

Grooves weave languid stories.
Shutters, unwounded,
wound, divulge, resuscitate.
System shuts down pale expanse,
basking in the scream
of transparent suspicions.
I save ants, seduce
razors pocketing human haul,
emerging to elevate wild salvation,
slicing open staring-wide eyes
leading to unity,
discord, harmony once more.

Anti-Advice in Rhyme

2008-02-27T12:32:00.001-08:00

Anti-Advice in Rhyme

I cut my jeans to the knee,
just like you callously cut me.
I don’t know what I expected,
coming to you looking for advice
and ending up rejected.
Your words were unnecessarily harsh,
leaving scars on myalready wounded heart.
Now I cannot be the same,
I am so doubtful,
with only you to blame.
I feel like we’re two different keys,
miles from each other
on the keyboard,
but when he touches me,
I know you’re wrong.

Awkward Pieces, Drawn Together

2008-02-27T12:28:00.001-08:00

Awkward Pieces, Drawn Together

I haven’t written poetry since I met you.
That should have been a warning, I guess.
When my words stopped flowing,
rising only sluggishly to the surface
or needing to be forcibly fished
from the well of mind, instead.
It’s true the Earth moves when
we come together
(no pun intended)
but awkward, me, around you,
tiptoeing on eggshells,
trying my hardest not to scare you away.
It feels like I’d spill my heart to any one,
these days, all those things I could never say
to you, and you would never push me to.
Maybe I am settling,
maybe you are a dog like all the other men,
but if that’s true,
please let me remain ignorant
for even just a moment more.

Early Winter

2008-02-27T12:25:00.001-08:00

Early Winter

I understand why most suicides happen,
this time of the year.
I take to my bed for long stretches of time,
hibernating like a polar bear,
waking only for food
or the sound of rain bouncing
off the roof outside my open window.
I watch my bangs grow,
through clenched tight eyelids,
or immerse myself in historical fiction,
trading reality for corseted, flirty women,
and grand medieval royal courts.
I’ve chewed the red off my fingernails,
reflecting my mental state over you.
Lightning flashes outside
but I am “safe” underneath fluorescent lights,
watching my life pass me by,
pass me by.

Your Touch

2008-02-26T21:43:00.000-08:00

Your Touch

You leave me dizzy,
reeling, almost nauseous,
from first kiss to first touch,
first fuck,
first doubt.
All men are dogs,
but when you’re holding my hand,
surreptitiously,
through our folded arms
on wooden tabletops,
I can’t believe it.
My poor nerves are on edge,
innocence gone,
reeling in the aftermath
of everything the world is saying.
I’m almost afraid to define us,
you, spilling secrets in the garage,
I, shocked and drunk,
wandering from your arms to his
and back.
Why should I strain
when everything around us
seems so hard-pressed
to keep us down?

How Hollywood Failed

2008-02-18T12:00:00.001-08:00

How Hollywood Failed

Nothing stays whole. Everything splinters
into shards, fragments of ‘used to be’,
‘never was’, or ‘might have been’.
We work hard for simplicity.
Once gained, it seems meaningless,
as do our lives. And each part of the world falls off,
or so it seems to the untrained eye,
that disbeliever at Pompeii
claiming no harm, no foul,
even when magma turns his feet to stone.
Are we doomed to repeat history
or is history doomed to repeat us?
What if Columbus, deterred by erroneous minds,
had conceded that he was wrong,
the earth was indeed flat,
allowing himself to be locked away while
his boats turned to moldy remnants, his
sailors disappearing over the edge of the world.

Do lost souls find their way back eventually,
or do they wander alone forever?
I’m not sure of the answer, just like
I’m not sure whether Pluto is aware
of the fact that it is no longer a planet.
Do planets have conscious minds like human beings?

When the time comes, I will gladly jump
from the highest precipice with you,
no questions asked. It will be refreshing
to not exist for once, to n’existe pas with you
where wars are only things we read about in history books
or reenact with toy swords in our backyards.
Where calendar dates dissolve,
like flesh decayed, leaving nothing but bone,
we will ‘not exist’ with fingers crossed and eyes wide shut.
“Fractions fit together never form the whole”,
therefore, whole is but a lie.
Parts long to touch but never align just right.
Every morning, we’ve fewer eyelashes, hair,
fingernails, thoughts. Are we nothing but imperfections?
Entropy seems so vast, yet
it cannot exist without loss of the whole –
which, in its nonexistence,
cancels out the universe.
I was lost once. But no longer.
A verbless noun can still stand on its own.
The girl born four-fingered cannot knit,
she lacks opposable thumbs and therefore
cannot declare a thumb war. I win by default.

We will live like kings when society lies in ruins.
We will fashion houses out of twigs,
and rejoice, even when our hair grows grey,
even if we set our souls afire
just to watch them burn.
And each part of the whole will fall,
like leaves in Autumn,
the sun rays in your eyes.
The world will revolve around your lips
and I will write you love sonnets.
Where there is no ink, I will use blood.
I shall be the new Shakespeare.
Our lives will join together,
like a bruise progressing backwards,
like your sweater unraveling into spools of thread.
What of when we will exist purely in soul?
When the moon ceases to reflect sunlight,
when our parachutes refuse to unfurl so
we plummet.
I’m ill-equipped for skydiving,
less so for rejection.
You hand me my words,
we’ll toast incongruity
like we’re defining wicked.

Ten feet under salt and sea,
yet still I attempt breathing as your fingers unlace
me, I’m a flower in bloom.
We’re no love out of convenience,
even if we are, forgive me, but
I’d rather cling to my vain, tortured semblance of romance.
I’d not give it up for my weight in gold.
I’d rather be useless and beautiful,
like a plastic fruit display in the heart of the Sahara,
then admit my whole existence exists purely in my own imagination.
I will savor our game of pretend,
played out amongst this meaningless war,
this corrupt society which we are forced to inhabit
until our veins cease to function,
hearts slowing their rhythmic pump.
I hope my pale visage is the last thing you ever see.

The Sun, A Cyclops

2008-02-18T11:59:00.004-08:00

The Sun, A Cyclops

Six AM is not too early for
rabid laughter. Shadowy forms
merge on the doorstep,
we strip off our fishnets in the kitchen
over bowls of plastic lemons.
Later, we’ll crowd, shoulder to shoulder,
into this very room, rehearsing steps,
but for now we spin on candy apple stools,
knees cracking together in the cold.
Night fades into sunrise, striking
my tight-shut eyelids as I attempt to hide
inside faux fur and leather.
Her voice rouses us from sleep every time,
knives to our eardrums,
until we issue an ultimatum
that finally evicts them from our slumber.

Carbon Copy

2008-02-18T11:59:00.003-08:00

Carbon Copy

Something snaps,
sinking lovers back into reality,
every sigh another city show.
In the urban darkness,
photos become mirrors,
gilt edges shining for no one.
Discarded valentines overflow
from every crevice in the skyline,
she doesn’t understand holidays or herself.
The rabbit jumps back into the hat,
the garish light invades the void
and on every street corner,
couples quarrel into bed.

Mistaking Tornadoes for Tomatoes

2008-02-18T11:59:00.001-08:00

Mistaking Tornadoes for Tomatoes

Exchange languished sighs for
fumbling hands, pale as doves
just released from the dovecote,
feathers of silk.
She’s so young, tread carefully.
No longer do we enforce the wear
of red A’s on maidenly breasts,
but eyes can still wound
just as much as verbal accusations.
So she falls prey to the sharks,
naive but not quite innocent,
eyes wide and mind empty.
You had such promise,
but it all breaks into shards
within your hands.

Only You

2008-02-05T21:26:00.001-08:00

Only You

I’m too far gone to breathe you in,
hands too weak to untie this noose.
With broken jaws and blistered lips
we bleed through the teeth,
eyes locked on the cracks in the sidewalk.
We wrote each other’s epitaphs,
rotten words form rotting corpses,
shin bones prematurely decayed
into dust.
The pecan tree I planted
above your still-warm flesh,
produces fruit that only tastes of you.

Bruised

2008-02-05T21:25:00.005-08:00

Bruised

A finger pressed hard
against a bruise as fresh
as yesterday’s bread,
lips form an O,
eyes reeling fast
find ceiling cracks.
Concentrate on anything else.
Not on teeth, not on hips
or the trailing of lips across
that shadowy place
above your eyelid’s crease.
Even eyelashes can stretch
upwards, to meet moving flesh,
towards reawakened desire.
Pulse beats faster, faster,
no knowing if this moment is the last
or if every second fades
into another shade of gray,
another broken vow, toes curling,
fingers scrabbling.
Hands find mountain ranges,
peaks and valleys as strange as
entirely new worlds hidden
among scraps of deceptive clothing.
The clock ticks from the wall,
reminders that this will all
fall apart, eventually,
when it strikes twelve.

Crash

2008-02-05T21:25:00.003-08:00

Crash

Dashboard meets
shin bone, patella
smashed hard
into glove compartment handle,
thigh cracks
under pressure.
Pelvis clings to leather,
joints snapping back
into place,
ribs find resistance
causing whiplash,
neck straining
to retain
normalcy.
Eyes wide,
mouth opens in
silent scream.
Windshield shatters,
metal buckling,
spinning,
straight into
darkness.

Gravitron

2008-02-05T21:25:00.001-08:00

Gravitron

The floor drops out,
disappears,
like Josh’s dad on Sunday nights,
like the football we left in the street
that one day when the pool’s
seductive, chlorinated waters beckoned.
Anything you drop gets sucked out
into another dimension,
so if you lose a shoe,
that’s it, it’s gone forever.
You have to hold onto the bar
really tight,
or you’ll go flying out into space, too.
“It’s true! I saw it happen, I swear!”
That isn’t funny, let’s
throw rocks at the lamppost
instead of going, okay?

Gangrene

2008-02-05T21:22:00.000-08:00

Gangrene

A human being spends,
on average,
up to two whole weeks of their life
kissing other human beings.
You were only eighteen
when you died.
Where did your number fall?
Flames leave marks on flesh
like lips, like teeth do,
metal bites down harder
but we’re all left scarred.
I saw the car that held you
crushed,
like a soda can,
its embrace too forceful –
people perish this way daily.
No one dies from kissing.

I Could Live in Bathe

2008-01-29T20:45:00.004-08:00

I Could Live in Bathe

Nothing stays whole. Everything splinters
into shards, fragments of ‘used to be’,
‘never was’, or ‘might have been’.
We work hard for simplicity.
Once gained, it seems meaningless,
as do our lives,
and each part of the world falls off,
or, so it seems to the untrained eye,
the disbeliever at Pompeii
who claims no harm, no foul,
even when magma turns his feet to stone,
or the unseeing, all-knowing
scholar of the ancient world who follows Copernicus,
proclaiming ‘oh yes, the sun revolves around the earth,
of course!’ and ‘That Galileo is a madman!’
Will we always be led by incompetent blunderers
happy to parrot the ideas of others
while letting their brains turn to ash?
What if Columbus, deterred by erroneous minds,
had conceded that he was wrong,
the earth was indeed flat,
allowing himself to be locked away while
his boats turned to moldy remnants, his
sailors disappearing over the edge of the world?
Can we be so easily mistaken for sheep,
or swine, or cattle even?
Do our feelings mean so little to our tiny brains that we
block them out, block ourselves out
of our enriched fantasy lives?
Can emotion run a country?
Can a smile really ruin your day?
Do lost souls find their way back eventually?
Or do they wander alone forever?
I’m not sure of that, just like
I’m not sure whether Pluto is aware
of the fact that it is no longer a planet.
Do planets have conscious minds like human beings?
Could we just communicate with them across space and time
and deep expanses of space?
No, we haven’t the technology.
Perhaps we never will.
We’re too busy debating about aborted fetuses,
various social anxieties and abnormalities,
when what we need to focus on
slips silently into oblivion.
Produce for the starving,
movement of tanks in far-off deserts,
are these all just far-flung hopes we’ll never see through?
When the time comes, I will gladly jump
from the highest precipice with you,
no questions asked. It will be great
to not exist for once, to n’existe pas with you
where wars are only things we read about in history books
or reenact with toy swords in our backyards.
Where calendar dates dissolve,
like plump hands now turned to bone,
we will not exist with fingers crossed and eyes wide shut.
“Fractions fit together never form the whole”,
therefore, whole is but a lie.
Parts long to touch but never align just right.
Every morning, we’ve less eyelashes, hair,
fingernails, thoughts. Are we nothing but imperfections?
Entropy seems so vast, yet
it cannot exist without loss of the whole –
which, in its nonexistence,
cancels out the universe.
I was lost once. But no longer.
A verbless noun still stands on its own.
The girl born four-fingered cannot knit,
she lacks opposable thumbs and therefore
cannot declare a thumb war.
I win by default.
We will live like kings when society lies in ruins.
We will fashion houses out of twigs,
and rejoice, even when our hair grows grey,
even if we set our souls afire
just to watch them burn.
And each part of the whole will fall,
like leaves in Autumn,
the sun rays in your eyes.
The world will revolve around your lips
and I will write you love sonnets.
Where there is no ink, I will use blood.
I shall be the new Shakespeare.
Our lives will join together,
like a bruise progressing backwards,
like your sweater unraveling into spools of thread.
What of when we will exist purely in soul?
When the moon ceases to reflect sunlight,
when our parachutes refuse to unfurl so
we plummet.
I’m ill-equipped for skydiving,
less so for rejection.
You hand me my words,
we’ll toast incongruity
like we’re defining wicked
(Shaken Baby Syndrome).
Ten feet under salt and sea,
yet still I attempt breathing as your fingers unlace
me, I’m a flower in bloom.
We’re no love out of convenience,
even if we are, forgive me, but
I’d rather cling to my vain, tortured semblance of romance.
I’d not give it up for my weight in gold.
I’d rather be useless and beautiful,
like a plastic fruit display in the heart of the Sahara,
then admit my whole existence exists purely in my own imagination.
I will savor our game of pretend,
played out amongst this meaningless war,
this corrupt society which we are forced to inhabit
until our veins cease to function,
heart’s slowing their rhythmic pump.
I hope my pale visage is the last thing you ever see.

Just Because

2008-01-29T20:45:00.003-08:00

Just Because

Because life has no backspace option,
no eraser large enough
to rub you out,
I’m left to shred Polaroids
into my red metal wastebasket.
The walls, stripped bare
of frozen moments
seem to echo my thoughts,
so empty,
you could hear a pin drop.
Because you tire of this,
so quickly, your eyes black
as you delivered a speech
devoid of emotion –
“I don’t think we mesh well”
and “Let’s just be friends” –
because this existed,
I rip myself into pieces
to hand out like party favors.

Carousel

2008-01-29T20:45:00.001-08:00

Carousel

Child’s eye sees everything
gigantic, never-ending.
Maybe it’s because we are so small
that even playground structures
seem skyscrapers in the sand.
I remember spinning around the Disney carousel,
horse the size of an elephant
ebbing and flowing underneath me,
Cinderella castle rising, magnificent and huge
in the background.
My vision blurred, I clung to reins,
the only tie retaining me on this earth.
It was, in a word, terrifying.

Dear B –

2008-01-29T20:42:00.000-08:00

Dear B –

I will follow your rules
to a point, but then –
I will wait no longer.
I’m afraid my patience wears thin
very, very quickly, my dear.
Your hands are warm, in mine,
or on the small of my back,
but we’re afraid of each other’s reactions,
aren’t we now?
This fear turns my moments to awkward embraces.
Maybe we’re both just sending mixed signals,
confusing this maybe relationship to
almost beyond repair,
you stringing me along
like a yoyo on a broken string,
me repeating the same words
“but I can’t, I can’t”.

Heavy Metal: Goes with Silk

2008-01-15T22:13:00.004-08:00

Heavy Metal: Goes with Silk

Your lips, my neck.
My entire existence wraps around you.
Can passion solve all the world’s troubles
or does it just cause them?
What did our ancestors know of love like this?
Their pretense, devoid of lust, sweet carnal desire.
Corseted, full-skirted women,
Gentlemanly handshakes, stern-faced chaperones.
Could they ever have imagined love like this?
Fevered, inspired, driven
almost to the point of madness,
to that point of sweet, spinning starlight,
the creation of universes,
the unbroken silence in the aftermath of our union.
Your lips, my neck.
You whisper words of devotion
and I am devoid of all conflict,
still and silent in your eyes.
You are the pull of the ocean,
making me content just to lie here
and let you crash over me all night.

No Details About Risk

2008-01-15T22:13:00.003-08:00

No Details About Risk

Are you the unspoken link between Heaven and Hell?
Clasped hands, cold sweat,
you’re clinging to shreds of what was.
It is no longer, maybe it never has been.
Maybe it’s some half-cocked fantasy
dredged up from the wells of your fevered imagination.
I think I am, too.
Don’t you see how translucent we are?
Like panes of glass in an armored car
shattered by the sniper’s blow,
we’ll fall to pieces any moment
leaving blood on the stairs
for the police to find.
Shin bone, jaw bone,
jagged fracture here, due to high pressure,
no sign of a bullet wound,
or a struggle.

The Fourth Wall is Broken

2008-01-15T22:13:00.001-08:00

The Fourth Wall is Broken

Let the blood seep.
It is only necessary to live,
why worry needlessly?
She is not afraid, so neither should you be.
The floodgate machinery is operational,
to say the least.
It won’t break down again, they say.
Although, we hired that Disney engineer
and God knows,
if we get stuck on “It’s a Small World” one more time,
I won’t hesitate to kill him off.
I’d rather tears.

Dinnertime

2007-10-27T14:09:00.003-07:00

Dinnertime

You are not my story to tell.
Daddy just hit mommy at the dinner table
and now we’re all scrambling
for anything at all to say
to break this silence.
Action…reaction.
You slide the green beans off your plate,
I watch the dog swallow them whole.
We’ll be coughing up blood
for years to come.

Galaxy

2007-10-27T14:09:00.001-07:00

Galaxy

Here on the bridge of uncertainty
in the very spiraling center of the universe,
you are three stars to the right
and I am living in a galaxy full,
of my fears of rejection.
Pull the swinging step,
a ladder of broken windowpanes
leading straight to Saturn,
where I will paint your eyes a million times over
to show you that I would be devoted,
for devotion does exist.
Swirling sunlight stings my bare arms,
leaving me raw as hamburger,
raw as my tender, beating heart.

Specifically – You

2007-10-27T13:58:00.000-07:00

Specifically – You

The way her hair fell in her eyes,
fragments of a deep pupil and iris
peeking through delicate, dark curtains.
His fingers, rough-padded,
but soft upon her lily-white skin,
swirled across her cheeks,
forming the permanent blush
that lives there even now.
Electric currents between them:
they are two points on a continuous line
with no eyes but those for one another.
Arms curl around curved backs,
rounded legs and stomachs,
holding tightly to every thread of life.
Her eyes, his eyes,
they part and meet and fuse –
every motion slows.
The world turns and they
are the single spinning point
of the universe.

Falling in Love

2007-10-27T13:57:00.001-07:00

Falling in Love

Why do they call it falling? I understand why it would come to mind when one is stumbling, crashing, tripping, fumbling into love with someone when it’s unrequited. When it hurts. When it’s wrong. When it’s ignored and left to crumble into nothingness in the cold, unfeeling Winter wind. When it’s crushed under an uncaring heel, and all you’re left with is shreds of your heart and dignity. But what of love when it’s grand? Returned. Right. Wonderful. When it’s taken in and lifted up and held close to the other’s heart and caressed tenderly by loving hands? Falling does not apply then. Floating. Flying. Soaring. Rollercoaster, excited riders bursting for the thrill. Seagulls circling, lofty upon the breeze, lighting upon the white capped ocean waves. Twirling. Spinning. All light and stars and deep-ocean-blue, golden sunshine and molten sunsets, flowers blooming from between your fingertips.

I have tasted that love, that feeling, once. Yet now, I fear it is gone forever.

Equus

2007-10-27T13:53:00.003-07:00

Equus

Bright-eyed foal
I scratch onto ancient parchment,
hind legs kicked up,
head thrown back merrily.
This is my foal.
I’ll sketch my bridle round its nose,
take the reins into my hands to control him.
Yet, he will remain,
long after I am dust within the ground,
dark back twisted in the air,
legs thrown out towards the sky.
The white patch between his eyes
glows in the darkness.

Sweetness

2007-10-27T13:53:00.001-07:00

Sweetness

Caught, like the mosquitoes of old
struggling in amber
til it encased them,
whole and perfect.
We are sinners in the night’s dark embrace,
fumbling with zippers and buckles,
fingers and lips and thighs.
Don’t liken sex to dinosaurs hunting –
velicoraptors stalking in their merry band
with deadly claws unsheathed and waiting,
ready to leap upon their prey.
My opinions on you
aren’t worth much more
than a child’s indecipherable scribbling
on otherwise pristine walls.
Decipher my loops, my lightning bolts,
they really mean one thing –
devotion.

Ebola

2007-10-11T21:30:00.001-07:00

Ebola

Pull together my shattered ribs,
the shreds of muscle laying within
still beat some morbid tattoo upon my skin.
Dig your fingers in deep enough
to reach straining lungs,
failing kidneys,
weeping organs, liquefying.
Don’t stay, don’t get too near,
the end is creeping up on me –
ready to bring forth the crimson tides
from every orifice,
jerking limbs,
mouth spraying,
drenching every wall crayola red.
Everyone within this room is doomed.
Every inch of my life’s blood
is bursting, bursting
with death and virus smarter
than our scientists could ever imagine.
The nurse who lifts her scarlet-stained hand
to her mouth, in disbelief,
the doctor who wipes his eyes
leaving a mask of ruby-red,
and you – standing watch over me,
with your face and arms covered
in my sweet vein-song.
You will all meet your untimely ends
just
like
me.

Here Lies the Bride

2007-10-11T21:29:00.000-07:00

Here Lies the Bride

Ink-stained hands wrap
around sheared-off silk,
fastened into a makeshift wedding dress –
she’ll wander down the aisle alone,
searching for a groom.
Wilted flower bouquet lays abandoned
on the molten sidewalk,
next to a Polaroid of her veiled face.
With nowhere to hide,
nowhere to transform her longing
into something tangible,
she becomes the poem.

The Language Barrier

2007-10-10T00:48:00.001-07:00

The Language Barrier

White face smudges
round my otherwise rosy lips,
a glove under my covers
or a striped scarf tied round my wrist.
The remnants of red lipstick on my pillowcase,
eyeliner smeared across my chest.
And every single morning I struggle
to release myself from this infernal
invisible box.
It’s not easy,
loving a mime.

Fingers Chasing Toes

2007-10-10T00:47:00.000-07:00

Fingers Chasing Toes

I was seven.
My mother told me –
“swim towards the bottom,
I’ll do the rest”.
I gulped air into my lungs,
filling them to the point of bursting
and dove.
Eyes closed,
under water is a frightening place
where every second seems close to death,
at least when you’re that young.
Just when I thought I’d die for sure,
hands pushed against my back.
My eyes shot open just in time
to see the world flip,
and then I was above,
sputtering.

Ocho Rios

2007-10-10T00:45:00.000-07:00

Ocho Rios

She draws with charcoal
on long sheets of oblivion (obsidian),
long-winged butterflies
above willowy grasses
blowing in the breeze.
Her hands move faster
than when they spin reeds into baskets
sold at the market for the lowest price
haggled for by sunburnt tourists.
When she turns her burnt face to the sun,
there is nothing but clouds,
ganja is thick in the air
from where the men sit carving elephants,
turtles, horses,
out of balsa wood.

In Loving Memorandum

2007-09-18T21:17:00.000-07:00

In Loving Memorandum

Flesh withers as if summer flora
killed
by Autumn’s first chill.
She was the breeze on sultry days
and all of what we shaped from clay
could not compare to her form.
Lips like bees with their constant buzzing,
eyes like caves sunken
in contrast to the marks
like ants,
crawling over the powdery blue veins
at the insides of her elbows.
When they found her
she was curled inside the bathtub
in the alleyway between Main and 43rd.
Hands like birds crashed into glass
and legs like toothpicks snapped in half
her pale visage told her tale.
We wept.
Her head we found pillowed
amid shattered TV sets,
emptied bottles clutched in deadened hands,
remnants of her last supper –
razor sharp broken needle tips,
the plunger.
When we lowered her into the earth,
her mother cried, we laughed in mirth
for never had one dead looked so at peace.
Her eyes would ever more gaze
upon the lost sun’s rays
of which she will continue to outshine.

And to dust shall we return.

A Sonnet on Death

2007-09-18T21:13:00.001-07:00

A Sonnet on Death

I dreamt I had died in a stranger’s place
where nobody knew my name.
There wasn’t among them a familiar face,
yet they treated me just the same
as they would have one of their own,
though stranger was I to them.
They took my body into their home,
made ready the coffin then.
In lace and silk they dressed me clean,
combed my hair and smoothed my face.
Then sat they to eat a dinner so lean,
before laying me in my place.
The gravedigger dug his hole, six feet deep,
to embrace me in my eternal sleep.

Written for the Storm During Literary Studies

2007-09-18T21:10:00.001-07:00

Written for the Storm During Literary Studies

Raindrops caress parched dirt
where every blade of grass
yearns upwards, sighing
in the sudden onslaught of moisture.
I sit, trapped, behind fluorescent bars,
longing for the freedom storms bring.
Lightning dance ‘cross my eyelids,
like a pelican skimming ocean waves.
Outside thunder roars,
inside my mind turns to Yeats,
word definitions,
discord of booming professor’s voice,
student feedback.
My heart numbs but every beat screams for you.

Fakes

2007-09-18T20:58:00.000-07:00

Fakes

Let’s raise our glasses,
a solemn toast to mediocrity
no vintage glamour glitter rock star
here.
Leather cracks, hairlines recede,
and all your records fall into obscurity.
How much would you dish out
for your fabled fifteen minutes of fame?
Sacrifice vocal chords, eyesight,
bone structure,
and all the love ever known.
Become that vision of lust and longing,
poster-pinup child material
for a teeny-bopper’s photo wall.
False perfection.

Chasm

2007-09-05T17:54:00.001-07:00

Chasm

I cannot breathe as deep as the Grand Canyon
with all its valleys and hidden places,
that age-old wound
watching with its heavy-lidded eyes
ancient in its silence.
This between us is no blank canvas –
bloodied fingers, buckled legs, cold eyes
and you refuse to see past.
Paint-winged butterflies carried on the breeze
go by like carnival-coloured clouds
but every inch of sky is gray, gray, gray.
My lungs collapse.
I cannot breathe as deep as the Grand Canyon,
for never have I tried.

Developing

2007-09-05T17:52:00.003-07:00

Developing

I can write you no sonnet,
my thoughts don’t lend themselves
to easy rhyming.
Ink-stained hands leave
charcoal-colored smudges
across this blank expanse of paper,
turning words into monochrome butterflies
chained to this pen of mine.
When it all comes down to it,
“I love you” just doesn’t cut it
it never really did.
My feelings for you are too fierce
to put down on paper –
they would shatter cave walls
destroying all art that’s come before,
leaving dust in their path.
And to dust shall we always return.

Flying

2007-09-05T17:52:00.001-07:00

Flying

The rhythm in your skin
drowns out all reason.
“Why are we here?” it screams.
Resisting all bonds
all locks and chains,
you cannot be captured.
There is nothing left to lose
save for your plush velvet eyes,
lengthy limbs and tumultuous vocals.
Can we learn to fly without wings?

Breaking

2007-09-05T17:51:00.001-07:00

Breaking

This is an ending, not a beginning.
You will write each poem off as just another fancy,
and I will continue furtively sending
crumpled scraps of poetry to every newspaper in town,
in my desperate attempts to finally strike gold.
I am a sunset in vivid fuchsia and turquoise,
streaking neon bright across the sky
but you, with your cracked ribs, vacant unblinking eyes,
blinding-white teeth, you are nothing.
When we fall it will be in pieces,
like a child’s puzzle torn apart.

Devour

2007-09-04T17:04:00.000-07:00

Devour

darkness brings
raking fingernails,
bruising lips and hungry eyes
teeth that sink into pale, ivory expanses
of snow-covered hills and valleys.
When eyesight fails,
trust the rhythm of hips and heartbeats.
hands that long have dreamed on touch
find purchase, grasping folds of flesh
scorching every spot with their torrid touch.
in the night, everyone is a sinner,
slave to heaving breasts and tremulous fingers
pressing into the delicate places
between stomach and hips and thighs.
bodies arch and quiver
fingertips gliding over the smooth surfaces of skin
each shiver, each breath drawn inward by a lover with a gasp
rings divine off their forms
as they dissolve into nothingness, spent.

Splitting

2007-09-04T17:02:00.000-07:00

Splitting

ruined lace
split apart
by the brute force of your rude, fumbling hands.
nothing is meant to stay whole anyways,
like cheap Christmas light bulbs
winking on and off and finally off forever
and fingers are twisting,
yearning for the peak, the pinnacle.
breath siphoning through squeezed lungs
don’t rush, do, don’t, do,
please, please don’t stop not even for a moment. Don’t stop
until blood cells burst
temporal lobe explodes
ribs crack open, like those of a corpse on the autopsy table.
let calves and thighs and hips and arms and shoulders and fingers and even toes feel,
feel and clench and yearn and yearn
and release, release, release
until skin is all that remains to separate;
melting away, peeling back like the skin of an orange
leaving nothing but muscle and bone and red, beating heart.

Contact

2007-09-04T17:00:00.000-07:00

Contact
(this is a rewrite of "Untitled")

I long to be the raindrops
glistening on your skin.
The wind blows through my veins,
I’m alone again.
Stitch my eyes shut,
you’re a splendor overwhelming to behold.
Fill my hands
I need more, more, MORE.
Bring me to the edge
of the wordless,
where nothing but our primal urges
will spilt the night,
in two.
I crave the stars in utter clarity.
Wound me with your touch,
be my undoing.
This is where our eyes meet,
and this, and this, and this -
this is where I slip,
off the counter,
off the edge,
into departure of reason and sanity.

Untitled (as of yet)

2007-08-25T15:40:00.000-07:00

I long to be the raindrops
glistening on your skin.
The wind blows through my veins,
I'm alone again.
Wishing on stars never works for me,
you see.
Stitch my eyes shut,
I'm not worthy to behold you.
Fill my hands
I need more, more, more.
You bring me to the edge of the wordless,
where nothing but our primal urges
will spilt the night in two.
I long to see the stars
in utter clarity,
I need to be wounded by your touch,
by my own undoing.
This is where our eyes meet,
and this, and this -
this is where I slip
silent,
into oblivion.

In Another Life

2007-08-06T20:18:00.001-07:00

In Another Life

The sheets of rain against the window
remind me of your eyes,
so blue and wet like the ocean.
You used to drown me in them.
We were never as simple as an algebra problem,
leaning more towards complicated equations
things that made my head spin.
You were Romeo in doublet & tights,
I, your Juliet, in empire-waisted gown.
We were perfect right up til the end:
your cold lips and empty glass,
my blood-soaked robe and shaking hands.
In another life I loved you as I do now.
We were Cleopatra & Antony,
Edward Scissorhands and Kim,
Jack and Sally.
Doomed lovers, we are, in all our glory.
In another life,
I loved you as I do now –
obsessed, morbid,
til the bittersweet ending
curtain fall.

Human After All

2007-07-30T20:10:00.001-07:00

Human After All

Heartbeats turn to whispered murmurs,
heaving breaths to nothing but lies.
She’s a beauty wrapped in bones and skin,
just something to keep the organs in.
Delicate hands, birdlike in their delicacy,
legs long and capable of covering miles.
Her eyes are the deepest colors of May,
just something to keep the flames at bay.
Her body is fragile and broken anew,
lying motionless beneath the autumn leaves.
Her lips are cold, blue and thin,
just something to keep her truth within.
The branches scratch the august sky,
scattering crisp leaves across the ground.
She is nothing but bones and skin,
just something to keep the organs in.
Her hands, her eyes, her body, her lips,
she is nothing but legs and hips,
the splay of her fingers
and the curve of her ribs.
She is nothing but bones, blood,
and skin.

“I Love You”

2007-07-30T20:09:00.002-07:00

“I Love You”

Carry this with you,
place it in an unbreakable locket,
twine it ‘round your wrist
if it’s too much for your neck to handle.
Wouldn’t want to impinge upon your masculinity.
Lock it away in a safe, perhaps
where no one but you knows the code,
or better yet make it voice-activated.
Tuck it in your pocket
but don’t forget about it,
wouldn’t want it to shrink in the wash.
Or maybe you should just destroy it,
maybe its better off destroyed,
left unsaid –
rip it in half
or burn it
or refuse to take it from my trembling lips.
It means nothing,
or does it mean everything?
You were never quite sure
and now I doubt you can even handle it,
but here it is anyways.
Foolish words for a foolish man,
unworthy and unknowing.
Keep them well.

Stargirl

2007-07-30T20:09:00.001-07:00

Stargirl

She was – black velvet,
satin & lace,
shaggy blonde hair in her eyes.
My hands found solace in hers
and my eyes were full,
but my heart was fuller.
She was saffron & dandelions,
all Spring-Summer-Fall
leaves drifting through her eyes.
I was not worthy to touch.
The curve of her hip
could have inspired Shakespearean sonnets,
and I dropped to my knees
to caress her milk-white legs,
like gleaming ivory in the pale moonlight.
For one night she was mine,
the swell of her breast
heaving with each sharp intake of air,
the feel of her knotted scars
under my fingertips.
She whispered in my ear,
“I can hear the stars,
they’re calling me home”.
When I woke, she was gone,
the spirit drained from her eyes
and the blood from her fair cheeks,
yet her hand still clutches mine.

Fairy Tale

2007-07-30T20:07:00.000-07:00

Fairy Tale

He entrapped her easily,
with small promises
of romance & jewels
and happily-ever-after.
Little princess in her cold stone palace.
No white knight.
No faithful steed.
Just her eyes reflected in the cold steel,
as his knife flashed.
Sharp pain biting her,
burning her arms and legs and torso,
her heart slowing its beating.
She was so beautiful,
pale perfection
with her romance & jewels,
and her happily-ever-after.

Addicted (song)

2007-06-29T22:26:00.000-07:00

Addicted

Oh no, you could never love me,
Oh no, you won’t even try.
Seven months and I’m still reeling,
your well-intentioned words still make me cry.
I know a woman should be strong,
but I’m only just learning how.
My heart is yearning to forget you,
but you’re my choice of addiction now.

I’ll never be sober,
I’ll never be right.
I know that it’s over,
I can’t help but fight.
I’m so sick of trying,
My heart’s just not tough.
I’m done with my crying,
Enough is enough.
I can’t drink you away,
(I can’t wish you away)
I can’t fly away,
I can’t fly away.

You’re not here to hold my hand,
Oh no, you never were.
You’re not near to dry my tears,
No, you’d rather be with her.
I hope she’s going to understand
when I call you late at night.
I’m still so damn addicted
but you will never be mine.

I’ll never be sober,
I’ll never be right.
I know that it’s over,
I can’t help but fight.
I’m so sick of trying,
My heart’s just not tough.
I’m done with my crying,
Enough is enough.
I can’t drink you away,
(I can’t wish you away)
I can’t fly away,
I can’t fly away.

I can’t get you out of my system,
there’s just no detox that strong.
I’m starting to realize I’ve been addicted all along,
I’ve been addicted all along.

I’ll never be sober,
I’ll never be right.
I know that it’s over,
I can’t help but fight.
I’m so sick of trying,
My heart’s just not tough.
I’m done with my crying,
Enough is enough.
I can’t drink you away,
(I can’t wish you away)
I can’t fly away,
I can’t fly away.

Friend

2007-06-29T22:25:00.001-07:00

Friend

Forget the world we knew,
the one we once shared
before it all shattered apart,
when we were so close,
we seemed one soul.
Forget the words we whispered,
precious as vows in the darkness,
meaning nothing in the months to come.
Forget those moments
when the world didn’t exist,
when all that surrounded me
was your arms, your eyes, your lips,
yes, we were the only two people alive.
Remember that I loved you,
that I will until I die,
that every world I said to you was true
beyond the lies that separated us.
Remember that you loved me,
and your first true love never dies
even if we’ve both moved on,
even if we have separate lives.
Remember everything we shared,
every moment, every touch, every word.
We weren’t perfect
but who really could be?
We were something, once,
two hearts that beat at the same pace,
two souls that seemed sewn together
never to part.
So forget the fights,
the lonely nights,
but remember,
that we loved.

Love & Pain

2007-06-29T22:21:00.001-07:00

Love & Pain

Pain comes hand in hand
with you,
with love.
Tears have run dry.
They will never fall.
Burnt-black eyes stare.
I am motionless,
you are gone.
Chop my heart into pieces
please feed me to your greed.
I am not broken,
you have not ripped me apart,
and I don’t need you to find me.
I was never, never,
lost.

Born Under a Wandering Star

2007-06-29T22:19:00.000-07:00

Born Under a Wandering Star

Restless.
I am never still,
my mind continues racing
even while my body is at rest.
I am constantly in motion,
running, laughing, acting, smiling.
I can’t be still,
I cannot slow down.
My passions keep me moving
constantly, constantly.
I am a butterfly
flitting from flower to flower.
How could you clip my wings?

Love Me or Hate Me, It’s Still An Obsession

2007-06-25T20:46:00.001-07:00

Love Me or Hate Me, It’s Still An Obsession

Look past my bitten-up fingernails,
my well-painted façade
I put on, brand-new, shiny,
each and every morning.
Can you see my soul inside?
Sometimes it’s just a glimmer,
one little shining star
in the midst of ink-black, velvety night.
So please believe me,
when I say “I live to let you shine”
quoting blasé song lyrics
because I’m afraid to tell you how I really feel.
We’re two different people now,
I fear you won’t recognize me,
my dark, angst-ridden eyes
my lips parted, ready
to tell you anything you want to hear.
No, that’s how I was.
Once.

A Student in Japan

2007-06-25T20:42:00.000-07:00

A Student in Japan

Oh, to be a student in Japan
in Spring when the cherry blossoms fall.
To skip down walkways strewn with the flowers,
hair blowing in the Jasmine-scented wind.
To twirl my parasol like the white-faced geisha,
tottering around on their training heels,
the men following them in droves.
A true geisha can stop a man with one look,
but could I, if I were a plaid-skirted student,
in Japan in the springtime?

“And now our bodies are the guilty ones…”

2007-06-25T20:40:00.002-07:00

“And now our bodies are the guilty ones…”

My love, our hands are sinners,
we commit lust with our guilty lips
each time we press them together.
Our touch fills the dark and silence,
our hearts too large for us to contain.
You are my sin, my condemnation,
the guilt I love so well.

Butterfly Away

2007-06-25T20:40:00.001-07:00

Butterfly Away

Oh to be a butterfly,
spread my wings and learn to soar
if only for a few minutes,
even an hour.
I’m locked up in the remainders of your love,
please, set me free.

Blue Wind

2007-06-25T20:35:00.000-07:00

Blue Wind

You’re no solitary blue wind
I swear I’m here with you,
so why are you going through withdrawal?
Your hands shake
I wrap myself in them for warmth,
your cheek against mine
will remind me I’m still alive.
Don’t you see?
It’s not too late.

Destruct

2007-06-25T20:34:00.001-07:00

Destruct

Your face is pale in the fluorescent light,
my words are a gun to your heart
my well-intentioned mind has pulled the trigger.
I’m so sorry your life hasn’t turned out quite right,
but you can’t just scream at the moon
it doesn’t have any answers for you.
I’m shattered, I can’t give you any advice
so why even ask?
You’re living a role, my friend,
I can’t break you out
of this prison you’ve built for yourself.
Have you sold your soul to your inner demons
or can I somehow save you?