india (iii)

I put my head under water and my hair is like bleeding ink spreading out around my swirling head; the blue and the orange lights, the absolute stillness of my puffed cheeks. A plane flies and lands on my back crashing into my head. I can hear nothing and feel less. I feel my chest….

city living

A city with its tendrils is connecting to the various avenues in my mind; the quiet dewdrop fields will not save me, they will not allow me to flee my own self, so I plug into this concrete maze and wait for the noise to silence my insanity. Walking along I know that the street…

autobiography: love

June 10, 2004. Cape Cod. I am standing on a collection of large rocks that feel to be slowly eroding under my feet, as if to retreat into my shoes. I am aware of the changing color of the bay beneath me, blue to white waves of water, the sounds of eroding rocks stopping the…

india (ii)

My mouth must have been wide open, to smell those smells and see those sights, even in that middle night darkness: trash, strangers, small groups cluttered on what passed for street corners, one man passing honeysuckle back to another, and back again. I was frightened and in awe and all of my western life was…

but the words

In our culture, where can we find hope? In the children who read books and come to bookstores to see what the new releases are; one–her mother haggling the proper age range for a particular book –just goes to town picking her nose with both hands, oblivious to everything but the words.

longing

My hand falls open by my side As you reveal yourself to me; Small strings of you hop from fingertip To nerves–waiting for flesh. I’ve seen you, and will see you again; I’ve felt the droughts of your skin alleviate The light of your face, the simple, quiet Moan of my weight on you. We…

meteor shower

I asked you to show me your body, and you did with a crooked grin on your face, your teeth–cleaned every six months, and there, too, is your mother–giggling and pushing down on me, speaking to me: “oh, when you do that”, pulling my hands to you to create callus. A leaking emptiness raising inside…

flippant

Something about a city at midnight, concrete and full, lights speaking between the cracks our feet do miss; here, January 1, 2012, hand raised for a cab, unaware and unprepared for what is waiting: How I could sit with her across from me, a bag behind her and full of something and my eye is…

ruby

Now I am trying not to die in all ways– least of all the body, although that too will die as the evening of my life winds down into something like a crumbling epistle; but to let my ambition die, as well as lethargy…that, left to its devices, spawns ambition out of pure desperation to remain…

02/04/13

Forgive me, I’ve had two glasses of wine. I wonder if my teeth are how they were in Ohio–purple and smiling.  I drank a lot of wine that summer in Ohio and I became very accustomed to that drunk: a wine drunk, rich with joy and forgetfulness, very different from the torrents of drunk I…