Kissing the hand in the dark
All of your lips course and spark
Raising the hairs on her fingers
like trees in wildfire lose bark
Nothing will ever placate
my natureโs indiscretion
A gauntlet of obsession
Scriptwriter,
would you not
write me wise?
What is ironic
about the look in your eyes?
but I feel the film careening
The temperature plummets
I cannot face the wind
I am radiating heat
and steam rises from me
like a hissing snake
slithering in the blue morning
skyward over a copse of trees
Someday there will be a change and we will all feel it.
No landmarks
No good or bad
No consequence
No decision
No direction
No closure
Red flag,
freezing wave
Caught between
movement
At the mercy
of two hands
Fingers at a
half-mast
I steal a cup
to collect you in
I shake it on the streets
with my head bowed low
The pedestrian shuffle
sounds like your name
repeating
Who am I to you?
Who am I to anyone?
Will you let me find
a new way to say
these words?
A different way
A better meaning
Like how moving furniture
can really change a space
The floor that gave with every step.
It sees the bigger picture
And my ears close
and my throat closes
and I wonder
if death is worth fearing
at 29
When was the last time
I stayed out
til I feared the sun
would see me?
When was the last time
I felt his eyes
upon my head
as I turned away to sleep in agony?
In the morning
heโs still watching me
and I wonder what he thought
about the words I spoke
in my dreams
You pass a witness
on the path
Your way divided
A yellow dash
Reflection only
in pavement passed
Beneath like bows
on presents wrapped
Giftgive in silence,ย
in nods and glance
A strange encounter
A stranger dance
The denim, blue on
blue black bike chain
Grease on my pant leg
I mix it with air
I pat the way down and
continue on.
I have one minute and itโs all Iโll ever need.
the most and the quickest
by the people who know the least
I have been given a scythe
I grasp it gently between my fingers
and cut it like I were loosing a ballon
Two streams moving beneath two gentle stars.
I want to start making promises
something that cant be broken
Tiny sips
at a manageable
pace
Banging a
stack
of paper
on a desk
40 corners
and then
You turn
spin in
the chair
form
a cycle
in
my heart
and keep
you deep
It is possible
that the world may spin
without an impossible
complication
There are mornings
which may rise
without melody
in the throats of men
The silence is not empty
It is working too,
whispering
the implication
between me and you
The spider in the ice cube
You saw it as you filled
You didnt care to warn it
You turned away and killed
It melts down in your water
and climbs upside the cup
And falls into your stomach
and never comes back up
I will never amount to anything and twenty minutes ago I considered how likely it was I could never write a word again
I am looking down a million pinholes backwards through time so what is a pair of binoculars to the Abyss Watcher?
What is age to the man about to die?
If you are reading this then it is too late
I see your eyes now
moving across the sky in an extraterrestrial pattern
Deep in the distance you are waving the world away
and I mistake it for a greeting