never have i ever
written a poem about our
made up love
but i can say
that i've refused you
on insufficient grounds
only to regret it
or when you don't let sleeping
love lie
only to thank the ceiling
that i finally went
i'll tell you about when
you didn't know then
and you haven't remembered since
our hands woke us
blind past midnight
and led the way
easily for two as lost as we
there have been so many
ways to say yes:
no, okay
fine, what, i said okay
wait, hey i said, never mind
i'll teach them to you
so i don't have to make lines
about our made up love
for everyone to see just so
you'll see
it's never been bad since we
learned it under those empty
canvas frames suspended over
our tide thin sheets
our tide thin knowledge
folded and drug under
great waves
jul 8, 2011
Problems With Both
align skirt seams
with hips
always shifting
in and out of place
making small tears
under
skin and silk slips
under linen lines
checking hands on hips
in case
jul 7, 2011
with hips
always shifting
in and out of place
making small tears
under
skin and silk slips
under linen lines
checking hands on hips
in case
jul 7, 2011
Long Time Hurt
Things that were once ordinary
the spare room
the dark
the pitched singing
slip diving through it
the looking face who hadn't
yet shown up on life
or vice versa
hardly
the hard packed loneliness
that lead into
the open field next door
holding me up long enough
to run
All these things, all such
are left outdoors
there until ruined
jul 8, 2011
the spare room
the dark
the pitched singing
slip diving through it
the looking face who hadn't
yet shown up on life
or vice versa
hardly
the hard packed loneliness
that lead into
the open field next door
holding me up long enough
to run
All these things, all such
are left outdoors
there until ruined
jul 8, 2011
Public Transportation
For so much pride
I'd take a bus in the wrong direction
just to be moved
I smell the days pass and pass
stay lost just to stay
and use another mouth
your mouth
to breathe just to keep you
The trains hush
all that
and wind away to
this city my pride
panics through
jul 8, 2011
I'd take a bus in the wrong direction
just to be moved
I smell the days pass and pass
stay lost just to stay
and use another mouth
your mouth
to breathe just to keep you
The trains hush
all that
and wind away to
this city my pride
panics through
jul 8, 2011
An Apology
dreamed and dreamed
out our apologies
fought in dreams
dreams for years
how dreams year
year year howl
how long dreams host
hurt by hurt then
a night a dream
an ambiguity a doubt
beasts not of monsters
a question of intentions
and later much later still
we were already dead
it was easier
to apologize from the shade
without knowing one another
anymore
jul 7, 2011
out our apologies
fought in dreams
dreams for years
how dreams year
year year howl
how long dreams host
hurt by hurt then
a night a dream
an ambiguity a doubt
beasts not of monsters
a question of intentions
and later much later still
we were already dead
it was easier
to apologize from the shade
without knowing one another
anymore
jul 7, 2011
What You Will
By now you know
that leaving before you're left
makes little difference
to the bones you break
in order to take yourself
and leave the gifts you already gave
There are no limits
to of what your hands are willing
to empty
to others, fill up
others with other
than you, but
the lay of hand on hand
solders bodies, by now
you should know that
The limits of your self
you sieve from those gifts
show only in, bind only in
broken word, by now
you should know
you give your word by living
by breathing, ragged or deep
by touching the back of another hand
with the back your own
These things are not fair
you did not know
life was storm and teeth
but by now
you are finding it so
so invisible horizon you fear
crowding the indifferent world
against your limbs
the wide skies that would deliver
you over
wait for what you will
jul 7, 2011
that leaving before you're left
makes little difference
to the bones you break
in order to take yourself
and leave the gifts you already gave
There are no limits
to of what your hands are willing
to empty
to others, fill up
others with other
than you, but
the lay of hand on hand
solders bodies, by now
you should know that
The limits of your self
you sieve from those gifts
show only in, bind only in
broken word, by now
you should know
you give your word by living
by breathing, ragged or deep
by touching the back of another hand
with the back your own
These things are not fair
you did not know
life was storm and teeth
but by now
you are finding it so
so invisible horizon you fear
crowding the indifferent world
against your limbs
the wide skies that would deliver
you over
wait for what you will
jul 7, 2011
In the Listen
he smelled of a river
which one i don't
and will not know
his hands worked into
by the world
gnarled just as
a river does
over its deep heartbeaten rocks
which one you know
there's no way
for me to know
his voice rolled undercurrent
over and under and around
the space the generation
of space i barely exist in
i barely know of
he told me of the world
in rivers through a beard
that ran and fell
naturally from his face
to his chest
under his hands
gentle enough
to be allowed its course
a course which
i don't, i never will, know
jul 7, 2011
which one i don't
and will not know
his hands worked into
by the world
gnarled just as
a river does
over its deep heartbeaten rocks
which one you know
there's no way
for me to know
his voice rolled undercurrent
over and under and around
the space the generation
of space i barely exist in
i barely know of
he told me of the world
in rivers through a beard
that ran and fell
naturally from his face
to his chest
under his hands
gentle enough
to be allowed its course
a course which
i don't, i never will, know
jul 7, 2011
real birds
i have no guts
or even honor
i make sore muscles
in keeping away
the lake birds dive
and cry
and snatch at lifts
they are only real birds
when in their black bodies
again each morning
before the sun
black priests
before our eyes
the blotted bodies
of real birds
in cuts of flight.
jul 4, 11
or even honor
i make sore muscles
in keeping away
the lake birds dive
and cry
and snatch at lifts
they are only real birds
when in their black bodies
again each morning
before the sun
black priests
before our eyes
the blotted bodies
of real birds
in cuts of flight.
jul 4, 11
Plans
The cracks in the ceiling
in the walls
run me down
find me out
continue on
tracing my silences.
They say:
you hurt, you are not good
in the morning
you buckle under
the pointless roof
and your pointless head
and cry into peeled paint
perfect wrists in felt weight
but your deep dug bed
is turning, will turn you
out to me
the cracks in the walls
the ceiling
and the plans I have for you are made.
jul 4, 11
Sound in the Bones
They're in your heart
in the bones of your chest
the sounds you don't
know how to make
what to do with
but kneel
but shout back
but wonder what, who
sent that echo
eternally out
forever in
canyon long
if only behind the bones
of your tiny woman heart
jul 3, 11
in the bones of your chest
the sounds you don't
know how to make
what to do with
but kneel
but shout back
but wonder what, who
sent that echo
eternally out
forever in
canyon long
if only behind the bones
of your tiny woman heart
jul 3, 11
Strapped
The sun strapped
across my shoulders
and undone memory
I avoided that city
and its telling history
stories of where been
of what changed
and longed for
waking to the light weight day
waking nothing under
sun strapped skin.
jul 1, 11
across my shoulders
and undone memory
I avoided that city
and its telling history
stories of where been
of what changed
and longed for
waking to the light weight day
waking nothing under
sun strapped skin.
jul 1, 11
The Arrangement
Despite the music
the two danced to something
slower other
that bent between them
in close quarters
the kind of arrangement
that misles hair
breaks arms open
and cracked mouths part
the kind that leaves
rubble of the space
once made.
jul 1, 11
the two danced to something
slower other
that bent between them
in close quarters
the kind of arrangement
that misles hair
breaks arms open
and cracked mouths part
the kind that leaves
rubble of the space
once made.
jul 1, 11
a little crying
it should not hurt
so to talk like this
to breathe in the miles
and miles and miles
and nothing miles
between our houses
when they should be
an arms length apart
and that only
and nothing more but
thresholds and dreams and nights
and bread between us
this is a nothing saying poem
it is a shaken little thing
a pitiful unweaned
still warm-bodied
holding itself poem
jul 2
so to talk like this
to breathe in the miles
and miles and miles
and nothing miles
between our houses
when they should be
an arms length apart
and that only
and nothing more but
thresholds and dreams and nights
and bread between us
this is a nothing saying poem
it is a shaken little thing
a pitiful unweaned
still warm-bodied
holding itself poem
jul 2
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