I name you

When I dream it is the most terrible tease of you on me on you in you Together down the road of life discovering together that each day is a puzzle for the solving; that each word has root in the eyes and that my hands cannot keep a secret not from you. and did…

a spring wednesday

this evening the release of toxins corrosive acid on the skin watching it bubble and smiling. this evening I’ll believe anything that I hear or I read; finally fires have been allowed to burn in the pits prepared for them. this evening the front of my head is the fruit of my body and eternity, if…

lullaby

a dream: I am standing on the sea folding the night in my pocket, beholding you: your skin stretched as canvas for the stars the remaining sunlight splashing upon it, innocence, coy smiles and linear lightning. the two of us sinking and rising, wet then dry, reaching then accepting, nerves and light and rising wetness…

the theory of evolution

I’ve read the theory of evolution Felt the splinters turning In their lathe There is smoothness There is an arc– The glint I am trying to forget. I know that the truth is Unseeable, a ship without An anchor…aware of the waves It creates. Who will I become But only what I am Running from….

calcified

The ghost of you passes over my chest and Takes many forms: Is the beginning and end of my day, Awake I am with you, Haunted–yet I still believe; I still believe and it kills me, I do not know from where My bountiful weakness springs But it tastes like you, flows Like you. I…

coffee buzz, argyle socks

Looking up I’m staring past leaves, Branches, feeling better Than I look–leaned back, Coffee buzz, Argyle socks. From where I sit: Sixteen shades of green, A memorial hastily erected to The daylight hours, The meek expenditure of labor. One brick building Abutted with One brick building. I have beer on the mind, No matter the…

she stands at the mirror

“a mirror has no heart, but plenty of ideas.” -Malcolm de Chazal i I want to be desired, standing here, naked, wanting to cover up with my hands and frail arms, or more so for him to cover me up, take me and make me, explore me and validate me, teach me the way my body works,…

what my eyes tell me

I look at you, and I realize That I know how to die In your slow, tortured curves There is no mystery No thought No words But only the birth of silence In your hollows. I look at you, and I hear The infinite daffodils The infinite songs The percussive movement of your lips The world is rich in awe. I look…