22/23

to be on the cusp

of this / dark forever

not to know

or to see

but feel my way.

small earth shattering cries

pierce / caress

unbeknownst to me 

i am recipient of both.

smooth jagged nothings

for these this  it

i can not breathe one last time,

i must

 now.

and this one can be called : when you walk into the luminous, 

do so to trust yourself.

TRAIN POEM/ JUNE 21 2008

I take this molten sun,

Falling west from the sky.

I catch it in my cupped fingers,

It saturates me with its golden hue

Staining my hands,

My arms.

A ritual in finality.

The sky is cooled by a lace of stars,

barely visible,

and I cradle this burnt remnant of yesterday—

and try to absorb it’s smoky stories, to inform

the virgin tomorrow

which lies ahead.

FAMILY

We are madhatters.

Who bicker and shake fists,

Then kiss and make it nice.

Then bicker and shake fists.

 

We do as madhatters do.

and talk all at once,

Then feign silence.

Then talk all at once.

 

in this world made of cells and stardust

we form a small nucleus,

protons and neutrons and

electric pulses bouncing off one another.

 

There is one and she is queen

And her madhatter tea

Is served in bed

Or off with your head.

She has spider hands

That hold, all the worlds comfort in their palms.

 

And also there is a man

Who is dark headed like the earth

And just as grounded.

He is formed of solid gold

And finds his ability to taunt

And tease

Both surprising, and wildly amusing.

 

Together they were

So young

And brought to life the rest

 

 All of who have lashing tongues and giant hearts and too many words and too many tricks and games and glittering eyes and are bound to one another with shackles of love and hate and a walloping amount of pure disbelief.

 

We are the apple of our eyes

And the dagger to our hearts.

we are madhatters!

And we do as madhatters do.

I PREPARE

he is

for soft ears / bovine eyes

and melted butter hearts

dearly departed.

last night

for whispers into dark / eyes tightly shut

i said goodbye.

HALF-HEARTED

I have received,

A scratched tin box, with a worn leather lid.

Inside

Lay mildewed yellowed papers

announcing my call to battle.

 

In the days before

You leave

I reacquaint myself with the city-

See upended graves and

Work to gently

Reform the dirt, pat it. Make crosses out of sticks.

Now I lay my head to rest.

 

I am

So wrecked

Still, bones are splintered, and major muscles are not  functioning

Properly.

But I have received

The call to action

 

You sent it.

You knew, I could never be a deserter,

I could never just watch this battle

This fight

These swords clash

And cannons fire.

I believe too fully in the cause. I may lose every limb in this war,

But I believe in it.

 

The summer is dwindling.

My respite has come to end.

You have sent me

A letter of  orders

And I see your power,

Still has a firm grasp on me.

Even through this impenetrable distance.

Soon.

Soon.

Soon I will prepare to leave.

I will head out to battle.

 

After you leave.

But you, have taken a small, velvet souvenir of me.

Perhaps unwittingly.

 

Even so,  as a result,

I will be fighting

Only half-heartedly.

9:53

there have been very few times

when I have felt each minute quite as sharply.

Filling and forgetting—half drunk cups of mineral water

and orange peels puckered with age.

 

Things feel too dirty, the daffodils bought last week on special

hang loosly, Sticking their crepe paper petals to the glass

makeshifting as a vase.

The water pipes click.

The refrigerator hums.

 

I wait, the kettle is on the stove.

On edge listening to the pitch

 

Racing to turn it off before it’s a full-blown whistle.

GAËL

In the morning. I am quiet.

My voice has not risen from where it settled in the bottom of my lungs

Motions dusty

And still slumbering.

 

Outside is a pale green and when I look past the window

Sometimes

your roman-cut face swells in my mind.

Deep sunken eyes,

Of the lightest color,

Reflecting the sea,

Burdened by lashes.

 

I think now that maybe the whole time I was in love with you.

 

Your island is unreachable

Located somewhere beneath the stars and above the clouds

I find myself always looking up when I think about you.

Looking for your dream world

Walking circles on the moon

And touching white hot stars

 

These days you have fallen.

Corkscrewing to the bottom of the earth

Swallowed by the same sea

Which you once controlled, riding the waves

With the salty air lashing your lungs.

These days you have fallen.

 

You are always sinking.

 

Little prince. Little bird.

That way you walk

A ghostly saunter

The way you glide along the ground, as if you aren’t touching it at all

I don’t think I have ever heard your footsteps.

 

I spent so long being scared of your affection

Don’t you realize that I was protecting you?

And it was the most gallant thing I have ever done.

 

I wonder if it would comfort you,

Heal your bruised heart,

If you knew that mine was bruised too-

That with each pump

I feel the blood

Rushing to those tiny blue veins

And that it burns. so badly.

Swollen by beatings and brittle to the touch.

 

I want to grab you and explain that I was trying to save you,

Not break you into a thousand shattered pieces.

I never knew I had that power

And I hate it

Nobody can be complete, destined to float on.

a human shell. Zombie.

the jackles which haunt us tearing apart the little that is left

howling in satisfaction.

 

Little prince. Little bird.

I want so much to be healed by your gentle touch

J’suis maso

Choosing this pain

Which wakes me up at night gasping to breathe

So that you don’t have to.

Do you not understand?

 

Oh you,

I want to brush the length of your nose

And kiss you so soft and so sweet

And put my head in the crook of your neck

To be cradled.

 I want to kiss you.

So soft.

and so sweet.

So that honey will fall from your lips.

 

 

To never be repeated again.