i forgave you once
in a small space
in a lean moment
that is very far from the boy
you exist as
for me
distance had
numbed points
muffled memories
and you were shapeless
i
couldn’t contain you then.
we exist in waves
slight salutes and large swells
in the last rush
you were sitting, caged
on the sofa
resolving if your love for me was
if you loved me
enough
after a year
in another
after little waves
and a nice dinner
you were sitting, in love
someone else.
(red hair)
i’m in love.
i crashed with it
over and over
on my apartment floor
before i was whiskey-driven
and you never feigned an answer
over and over
there are none
over and over
there are none
so we meet here
in small spaces
far between us
in lean moments
where i am warm
then i leave you free
where i am
and i am free
I was asked to read at Taj Mahal Open Mic’s 2 Year Anniversary show this past April and not only was I fortunate enough to participate but my reading was recorded and included on a compilation album you can listen to here: http://tajtuesdays.bandcamp.com/album/taj-2-year-anniversary
Thank you Andy Gallagher, Phil Kim, Zach Baird & others for supporting myself and my art.
in may, i learned this truth:
i bloom, not to offer
what’s left of you
to a warm wind
like the frosted ashes of a term’s casualty,
but to feed
what last winter
has made bare.
like a sprout
heaving the cold
from its limbs,
it is also my birthright to bud.
how much
do your hands weigh
now that they hold
more than your pulse?
i’ve seen them
dangling low like
the weight you swallow
has possessed your outline
my gut sinks me still.
about how long will it take
to seep to my edges?
about how long until it clots?
cleanse me
but do not leave me light
there must be a stench
to my soddened shuffle
when will my shadow
yield a thicker shade?
when will it
shroud me?
i have turned
my chest to you
now please, friend
turn it dark
even alone
you move with her
friday night at the party
i saw you
side-step left
to make room
in your conversations
for her
measurements were memorized
by the shape you molded
standing right next to her
on softer earth
and packed back to the midwest
friday night at the party
i saw you
dangle bottled beer
in your other hand
fingers left free to find
her palm
while you looked on
eventually
jamming them into
your jeans pocket
nodding your head
like a metronome
and smiling
at the other faces
but you left your arm loose
an elbow pointing
to a vacant plot
in case
she left california
just long enough
to link arms
i heard the world
split and roar
i awoke
with crust in my eyes
with core on the pillow
melting at my feet
warming the cold side of the bed
i watched it
curl your skin
away from me
singeing what you’ve shed
and what has stayed
i saw it
level the shape sunken
in my wrinkled sheets
from when you let your bones
grow heavy with me
and i wish i had been alone
to rest my fingers in the grooves your spine had impressed
to bury your vacant seeds in blankets we once sowed
or just to see
with nothing blackened
or to sense
with nothing burning
that you
will never bloom
beside me
again
i was baptized
by an adjustable shower head
that was set to
fast massaging pulse
when i blessed it
for beating
blackened rivers
from crossing
my open pores
there is nothing holy
in bloodshot eyes
shaking shoulders
and violent gasps
but i did kneel.
i did
with a curved back
with a bowed head
against a dripping faucet that
dug deep into my crown
and i clasped my hands
against my sunken breast
and instead
was swallowed by the porcelain shoulders
that i once prayed would carry me to the surface.
and i rose still unclean
and i lay still unborn
and i am still
gasping
for air.
i’ve heard that we are lost here
a chorus of blue-jeaned sirens
leaning on a wall of wilderness
pale-handed and chain smoking
our voices ring clean of our sins
we repent with every exhale
refusing alleluia
practicing labored discord
our final note still sounds of ‘amen’
i know that we are safe here
our backs against the frosted glass
between our shoulders falls the shadow
sweeping branches shade our blades
we bend to mock the shapes they’ve reached
while rooted in their natural sleep
we have poisoned our soil
the earth from desolation row
is now crawling with our pesticides
this is not our father’s dirt
she is no longer our Mother
we are among the undesired
orphaned on her toxic hull
we whimper into hollow breast
and hear no echoes of our distress
pale-handed and chain smoking
half-lit, we watch them fall again
lighting fire to our unmarked graves
amen
we sing
amen
4 notes linkthis marks my foray into a more structured form. each first line of each tercet is 7 syllables, the second, 8 and the third, 9 sans the last stanza.
there is no beauty here.
broken-necked birds
heads hanging on
snapped spines
ruptured lungs suck
shallow breaths
twisted napes above
stiffly shut wings
so we draw them in air
on clear skies toward a full sun
slack necks soaring
wind burying beak into breast
blind but still winged
we are so proud
to see them in flight
suffocating with wings outstretched
(proverbs 10:31)
words unwise:
i’m gonna
use you too
i’m gonna split
your tied tongue
and make
you talk
till your
words
flow
black
shallow viscous pools
on paper
i’m pressing
to your chin
i swear to god you had better swallow the surplus
slurp till
the i’s created
are in mine own
image
