Eifell TowersI study the surface of the moon, astronauts are touching her face.
Washing With WaterShooting blanksand shitty whiskywishing somebodywas sittingsinkingwith me.
The Seduction of SubductionMagmadrags medown,makes mepartof the ground.Spread meon the oceanfloor.I'm not a desertanymore.
The Beacon And The BugI was wishingI was kissing youand wishingyou were wishing,tooand missingthis little thingyou doand singingsongs that makeme think of you
of fancy, of stairsI cannot flythe owl has taken flight
In Three Actsmancliff seacliff man seacliff sea man
Demonization of Denominations"It's cold." The sun's notbeen around the earthall day. The crickets telleach other about itbut they hushthey hush when we walk past and listen to us sing:The sun is gone- for now, at least -gone out West tocome back East.He's sent the Moonso we can see,but we close our eyesand go to sleep.
wakeSometimesI wishsomeonewouldsneak inwhile I'm sleepingand nuzzle upinto my armpitand pushthe muzzle of a gununder my chinand pull
PetalsThe grass tickled between her toes as her father toiled away with the roses by the letterbox. She watched his fingers weave between the thorns to pat the soil around each bush, humming to some John Lennon song she couldn't put a name to. Despite the sun just tipping the horizon, she saw sweat prickling his brow and his eyes squinting against the light. The fine lines on his face were suddenly accentuated by shadow, and for a moment, she swelled with wonder.'Maria, come here,' he said, waving her over. 'You're not going to learn anything sitting all the way over there.'Excitement sparked her limbs into motion, and she crawled over to sit next to him, careful to tuck her skirt beneath her thighs to avoid the dirt.He picked up a pair of clippers from beside him. 'Now, you need to snipe back these diseased parts here and there from the base of the plant. It helps it grow better.'Snipping off two pieces of wood with ease, he deposited them in Maria's outstretched hand. Their rough textu
ClippingsYou press down on the lever, straining for the sound you adore.Clip, clip.Sharp metal blades clamp down, and a strip of white breaks free. One more snip to go, you've been waiting for this. You slide the clipper a touch right; you squint as you adjust the blade's position; too far and you unearth new fleshy depths, too near and you’ll waste a snip. You take a deep breath and tuck your elbows closer to your ribs. Pull your head lower, closer. Your chest stops rising, the soft whooshing of air from your nostrils stop. Control is vital!You press.Clip.A little white sliver does a dainty somersault flip before falling into darkness. You see its little curlicue flip, but you must move on. You are on a mission, and the goal approaches. Victory will be yours, must be yours. None must survive this purge.But the sounds you loathe are always loud and clear."Are you cutting your skin again? How long have you been at it?! It's all over the floor! Oh my god, your finger
an arc is an infinite number of straight linessay i& you toolike madwe wanderedwhereverto god& asked it to appear& so it soul-sprouted out of earthor spilled all star-dusted from heavenor emerged from a gang of goliath worms& was so splendidly riddled with prismsor notwe saw god in marvelous feathersof flaking gold or seven robesof mica or divinely impoverishedwith a putrid buzzard’s beardor whateverwe were destinedto perceiveour phantoms of truth beso distinctly two of thesethat they must eventuallybecome onesee:down inside the kuk, kuk & skowcrackling out each green heron beakis a different sort of timeor now than isgrown within the roh-roh-roh & awkof every great blue onesodeep within a claw of bearblack & river-blessedexists a unique airof holy spacewhich is oh-so-neveralike that which issewn within a talon of owl-birdsilent & flying ready-spreadwith fiery night-sky eyessofar along the sweet flagpatch of summer swordswithered & seeds to setwea
letters from the seai.sometimes when i wake upbefore the sun rises, when i’m all aloneand it feels like i might be the only person in the worldi notice that my face is wetand i wonder if it’s becausei’ve been swimming with you in my dreamsii.i remember youin the summer nights under the corsican starsand the warmth of your skin in the cold seawateri rememberhow the phosphorescence coated our bodiesas we swam together, the salty tang of the ocean and your fingers up my spineand us glowing like soft stars in the nighti remember how i wished it could last foreveriii.now i wonder if the tides and my tearswere so different after all
IndependenceOnce the wind caught on the seaAnd its dress snagged upon the crestsLike a girl who couldn't help fallingFor a boy with too many cracksThen the wind tumbled between the wavesCrashing with the water when it couldn't find the sky.I always wanted to live in the sky,Wrap clouds around me--dip myself into the sea--And wander into roaring wavesOf emptiness; Rush as the sun crestsRush like wind and water into the cracksOf myself, so that maybe I'll stop fallingFor people who can't keep themselves from fallingDown, and who won't quit looking at the skySo they can avoid all the cracksIn the sidewalk as they weave through a people-sea.Well, I'm not used to riding the crestsOf others' success; I'll make my own waves.So though my hair falls down in amber wavesI fear the strands will keep on fallingAnd my white-wash hands in lunar crestsWon't show you a spacious skyUnless you want to seeThrough star-spangled cracks.Eyes and eggshells shattered, tiny cracksAnd the tears stre
JackMy grandmother fell in love with my grandfather when his skin was still yellow with malaria.At twenty-four, he had just returned from war, his pockets heavy as his heart, weighed down with souvenir scars and unspent bullets. Gaping trenches hung beneath each of his dark eyes like open, sore wounds, or sorer memories. At nineteen, she had not known the taste of oranges. The first time she held one, she bit straight into the pasty skin, expecting sweetness and coming up with shell-fragments.In the pictures, my grandmother, radiant in her gray wedding dress, stands before my grandfather. Those trenches are still there, still yawning beneath each eye like caskets, but they are beginning to fold under, to fill themselves in. Standing together, they are joined by out-stretched hands, his free fingers reaching up to hold her cheek in his palm, the pale skin there blushing the softest pink: a single petal, unfolding, held erect in his hewn hands. In the pictures, it is there in the space lef
Dreams of realityA pair of eyes;Open and stare through the lights,Into the darkness of doom.And yet they smile,Yet they smile.A drop of tear;Seeps through the garden of death;Falls to the mortal soil.Dreams and desires will blend again,To render the roses alive.I am floating through a vision.Like ripples, floating through the pond of life.Can reality be so real?Let me drown again,Into the silence of familiar noise.As I wander through the lanes of reason and passion.The flame of hope burns bright,Drenched in the colors of freedom.So let my dreams unravel my soul,As darkness fades away;And let mortality draw me closer to destiny.As these pair of eyes,Open to stare through the lights again.Is this reality?Can reality be so real?Time passes by, as the eyes keep staring;Staring at the distant lights;Staring beyond the distant skies.What do they see?What do they long?What do they desire?Then the skies will break down;White lightning striking the dreamy clouds.Moments will tur
the beauty's in the leavingRead aloud here.sweetheart, let's head out. let'sdrink up the desert asphalt and that last bottleof johnny walker blue--one last toast to the copper sunsets,to the good earth. a pair oftailgate stargazers, you and i:roaming curves across the glove compartment map, untilevery foldline is worn flannel-softand it'd rather stay openthan closed.let's forget route sixty-six. let's forget the numbersand pick up terra cotta dust--breathe in the mojave. let's pretendthat the world's already endedand it's just us.let's leave the door unlockedand gowest.
the letter that never arrivedas if grief had never hollowed out my heart,caverns echoing with the memory of a laugh,as if despair had never stolen my voiceuntil love whispered in my earand I knew what mattered,to speakof knowing: there are thingsyou will decide to protect yourself from,painyou must never relive,and some you must liveand live again,no matter the cost
a phenomenonYou are a trajectory from which I have fallen, Moon-boundEarth-boy. With height and speed your molecules shifted;I dropped away by degrees — further, then further.There must be all the sky between us now,but I taste your dust with my fingertips,follow afterglows.
leap through eternityi will sink my teeth into a supernovato let the stardust andcosmosslide down my parched throat andwash over my intestines,like a pebbledrowning in the sound--
supernovae"Wouldn't it be great if we could watch a star explode?"It was just like her to say that. The violence of another world's ending was, to her, poetic. If our own sun exploded, I think she'd open up her arms to embrace it."I don't know that I'd want to be that close," I said."That's the cool part. You wouldn't have to be." But she still didn't think we were close enough.That was how we always ended up like this, sitting in a car, driving to nowhere, with nothing but the sound of the tires on the highway and the company of the stars above us. She couldn't sit still long enough to color in the details, so we never did. We just kept driving.She leaned back in the passenger seat and kicked her feet up, staring at the ceiling of the car as if it wasn't there."When stars exploded a long time ago, they painted pictures of them and wondered if the gods were looking down on them. What do you think we'll do when we get to see one?""Take a picture."She shot an expression at me that I
The NecklaceCliché Hallmark cardsAlways start the waterworks.Even at crowded restaurants.To know.... it's a piece,Of my Mommy JeanShaking, beaming, cryingAs that slim white gold claspclick... for the first time.A feather's weightInstantly at home on my collarbone.***Fast-forward***Hiccup-sobbingSlit-eyes red and swollenThat pendant-spot between my breastsScratched and redFrom shaking hands,Grasping for anything to ground me.Tremblingly closing that slim white gold claspclick echoing with tears***Fast-forward***Heaving my duffel up my stepsAnd down the hallway,To my last door on the rightDropping it and a gaspHands immediately undoingthe circular clasp at my neckFrantically grabbing the chain on my dresserBreathing slowing as the heavier chain,But lighter pendant comes to a restclick and my breathing becomes regularSighing as I flop into bed. Home.***Fast-forward***Sighing nervously,Self-co
the split the spread the threadyou were standing in the lamplight with all the grace and incident of the black seaand i sat with a scrape of skin pressing into the carpet uncomfortably.a shift of light moved us quietly into arms, some forgotten touch newly placed.the only stirring in all the world was the moving of our chestswhich at their crests would touch—a faithful mythology of meeting.titular gestures carried italics and lost their momentum mid-air.we were xerics of this arid landscape brimmed with sea air.the shifts of light moving our bodies glared ceremoniously,our puckering sensations forming a stunning tear. we danced as statues with flesh and touchmore soft and real than our real bodies ever hadand covered the subway floor with our gritty concrete shards—a bloom of breaking that spread and mixed and markedthat linoleum floor, grounded stone(fire)works.a warm and gathered silence of togetherness. the still beat of murk.no undoing,these relicsof movement,ever made
LithiumA single trickling rain dropLike gossamer silk strandsGliding along my third eyeWhispers wind's secret caressBreath; Relax. One. Two. Three.I exhale. Lungs releasing-Pressing translucent memories;Fragment of a fragmentAs water kisses rose petal,Drifting down stream's curtainThe curtain.Pretty little curtain.Where the wizard lies.He smiles up at meWith his monocled brow-Sipping on warm teaAnd fingers quacking casuallyTo the rhythm of his notesThis is a safe-zone. Free-zone.Innocent eyes sparkle,Imploring it to be true. I breathe. One.
k.n., ii7 9 13 he took a bow overlooking interstate 680: car-comets in full spin, orbital lights his dreams planetary, saturnian - he almost sprouted wings that night and i cannot say it would not be beautiful; the palpations of downtown pumping luminous cells, coursing through highway veins and he, standing in the heart of his world visions galactic mind ecstatic - his feet began to lift just a little.9 20 13a few phone callsand a pair of
the first day of springyou are new in the way flowers are new:brilliant green, soft purple,the good smell of rain and soil.let the miserable winter windchase its own tail for a while;there’s something beautifulwonderfulmineat the end of a sunlit driveway.
Peacetime Songs or EuthanasiasI wanted a war-time melody for the aching ears of all the people who silently protest the military efforts of our time; a song to soothe, a flood of words in which to drown our battered hopes, for their mercy. So I conjured in my rib-caged eye the images of war,the open minds of fallen soldiers, spilling New York and Los Angeles, Moscow and Baghdad onto the streets of anywhere; their mouthing wounds elevating cries into the city stench of gunpowder blackened buildings; the look on their eyes when the true meaning of damage and collateral crashes into their fleshy souls, begging in curses, wailing arms at them for a redraw of the cards: You instead, not my little boy! But every soldier is a little boy,and as I saw them huddled beside Humvees, warding cold deserts with divine stories of mundane happenings at hometown proms, repeating to themselves this weapon is lighter than a wrench; as I saw them mourning for the friends that wouldn't recognize them, returned, victorious shells, I re
The Horizon and the ShorelineI saw you in the ocean, riding waves like seaweed leaves.And you kept your arms in motionkept waving out to me.I blew a kiss goodbye,and stayed to watch you leave.For the tide's a perfect gentleman, he'll take you out to sea.