I have prolonged the agony
Of sleep and failure
Even when my pencil has abandoned me.
Where are those words which
Speak of your graces? I have searched
Through written reminders and odd collectives
Of related excerpts. Nothing found
How do I tell of tawny eyes staring
And a silhouette polished
For hours upon hours upon end?
Or of kisses that line themselves
Along my spine and soothe my fears
Or embraces that chase fears away?
I look under the carpet.
Nothing found.
Turn off the light,
put the glasses and goblets away
And say good night.
Familiar faces split into
(sub)pairs and meander home
and now it's only us.
Tonight, we'll return home
And collapse together.
Time to put ourselves away
Worn out from the drunken buzz
Of part-time friends and lovers,
Worn out from the game.
Your face, a perfect little circle,
Made for the hand cradle
and a midnight ramble of kisses
all over your lips and chin and
cheeks and forehead and
lips again.
...but maybe I've said
too much.
Angels walk with us but,
we are deaf to their callings.
Quiet sobriety when we whisper
across the top of the bar.
Instead we ignore the big
things in sake of the little things
that spark our fires,
keep our dreams alive,
and kindle our spirits.
A sheet of clear glass: silence,
Unable to break into - or out of,
So I've scratched another emotion
And I am saying hello (again)
...hey...here I am...
...yeah, over here.
Or maybe I'm saying something
a little more clever
so you just might be
a little more intrigued or
a little more inclined
to remember my name.
(...)
It is quietly comforting
When some foreign object
Fits itself comfortably
Into wild new places.
You cut through the room
To present yourself,
A scissor of motion -
Served with won ton, hot tea
And fried rice. Paper-thin
disturbed, I swerve through small talk
Then watch as you curve away
And skirt the clutter of tables.
Each visit brings a gift until
You bring the check,
And I come to the last
point where I can
Keep you near.
In a sesne, it's her absence
That defines the day.
A lone aspect, eating
Without her warm innocence
Drawing me nearer
To her.
There you are again -
A shimmer of silvery pink
Lipstick and a singular smile,
Ready to receive
Another little love note
From me.
And here I am - returning,
To remind you that
Your smile smacks in my mind,
Kisses me into emotion.
Fingers of stone wait for passers-by
to visit awhile.
The lighthouse at Saint Paul's had aged
beyond its years, a beacon dead and buried,
the stones holding it were letting go.
I eased down to the shore on a gravel trail
pulled the rowboat from grapevine and dodder
and set it afloat. Slow. Steady. I fought wind and waves;
working my way to the island.
I drove it to shore, scratching into sandstones
Then rose and set one foot on steady ground,
Grabbed a tow-rope, tugged it ashore,
and secured it to a hitching tree.
In small intervals:
Climbing, pausing, climbing again.
At the stone tower, it was time
to clear away dust and rot
from this makeshift fort.
After the run of day, I made my way home
Only to return tomorrow.
I slit a sheet
of cool combed cotton
to throw over my head
I slit a sheet
to mask my identity
and the fear of myself
I slit a sheet
to go haunting. To burn down houses
And churches.
- To strike fear in hearts of niggers
I slit a sheet
of cool combed cotton.
Wish on the moment
when fountains spout
and foot-traffic orbits.
A romantic trap, sparkling
Each moment. A glimmer
Of conversation
Sends us wondering.
I bend and twist my
eyes and cheeks and mouth and nose
Distorting the silvered picture of me
Wanting to be
Anything but who I am.
You've been here before:
The taste of lipstick, the smell
Of hair spray, the touch of nylon
Any of these will do.
Let me drop into
A deep blue ocean,
Dip in the shallows
Pour into a living vessel
This certain necessity
Breathing, seething, teeming
I could drink oceans of your company,
Drown with your presence,
We descend
into the cloak of night
and rise like perilous voyagers
to the sea, feeding
on jealousy, we walk the wire,
confused by weakness.
Let’s seek further shores
Because I cannot
betray myself for the sake of you
I cannot allude your shadow for hers
and I cannot disable the past.
I got a melancholy smile: it's you.
I got a funny feeling
about this: it's you.
I got a strange way of looking
at the world and I got
a strange feeling we are doomed
to be not close enough
to grasp: it's you.
Boys play crazy cool with you
In the street, calling your name.
But I know better,
Waiting for right moment,
Then when you least (most)
Expect it, I will
Hold your hand
Touch your face
Steal your kiss.
You know you have me
Crazy cool.
A knock at the family door
Come in
Ask my sister for her hand
Come in come in
Stop and talk
With me for a while
Come in
Stand up, step through
Come in come in
Join what little warmth
We have to offer
Come in
Share embers of breath,
glowing with anticipation.
Come in come in.
Forbidden by brown and gray,
earliest light is in winter repose:
awakened briefly, a wind-runner caught
on a distant line, strayed to the horizon,
stayed in the night.
Restless like September's song,
We live a ragged existence on the warmth
Of forgotten failures and continued aspirations.
