With my arms I cringed and struggled
tied to yr eyes and past lives, of the girl I knew one
day
you’d know better now, then you did then
sweetness is yr kiss on a slow moving Sunday
warmth is yr embrace on a cold winter morning
I wrapped my innocense in yr ballerina wrist
I should have known you’d gore my insides with yr
parting
know that I didn’t give anything more than myself
and that was more than I had even offered
but jezabel was a liar
she gave up before I had even paid her
and I am always here with my calculator soul
miscalculating how much I have devoted to you
with my vacancies filled with failed art and yellow
notebook paper
there is just too much time to kill, I just might end
up doing myself in
he said to take stock of yr diary days
he says make a laundry list of yr extracurricular
activities
when I count these stars tonight I know you’ll be
watching the moon instead...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
and china where are you? with the other men who had
missions of epic proportions
and kenya where are you? with the wild animals and
natives, pierced nose and all
julliete yr still the same, and I can’t even feel yr
holy touch anymore
alley cat I miss yr first kiss, and that is about all
I miss of you
clover you were the one that lied, and took presents I
never gave you
little pixie yr the one I failed in this life, and I
remember finding scratches on yr arms
queeny I don’t miss you, I miss how you were then, and
yr voice cracks still
yellow bird you broke promises, and took my parts I
had just recovered
and these days are just altered moments of the past,
we just repeat our histories, like a first kiss or
last embrace, one slow train wreck, or wrapping myself
in my cold sheets and shaking until the sun comes
up...I need so many years, so much time, so many girls
with my baby teeth and Polaroids.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
sun set
my lips miss yr lips
my christ crying for my sake
my devils playing with my fingers and toes
hell isn’t so far away, but neither is heaven
what do you do with yr broken times, with yr mothered
moments
that held you together
that put you down to sleep last night
this is not the wine talking
this is not my mania talking
I am not going home.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~I am not here~
maybe we can find stations like in south dakota
with arms and hands folding devotion
setting apart like words that pour over
I worry for steady times,
like seeds of past lives and lowest common
denominators
this is the way I cry,
when beds look like lovers and closets look like
partners
when I am at risk to look to fools like you,
I remind myself of my own flaws
I will be stern in this venture
to hate myself, and fold my knives away for these
moments
knowing I’ve held lovers close,
only to find that they were the murderers
my cast iron heart, is really pink and purpley bruises
over time I will learn to lie, and hold my own
with yr heart still beating in my numb hand,
I am amazed at the shared times like these...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
blood is a promise
and wounds are the vacancies
like black ice and dental floss
we know not about the truth
with hearts like melodies
or single shot-gun blasts to the stomach
like calling old families and tossing around the
moments
with the shortest distance to any one
being the yellow papers and faded ink scratches
from rooster crows to panicked prose
with angles of the arrow
borrowing burdens and cast rainbows
I lap the waters of yesterdays spilt milk
and hide devotions to dead birds
on window sills and sundays
with all the pain misunderstood
I need to help myself to some lack and distraction.
And over my shoulder ties two boots and heart strings
these days walk miles with me and I am not be alone.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
6:00pm, Wednesday, 5.25.05
I would dial yr number in my mind
and like the dreams, I could never follow thru
wondering why I feel so sick
and the days of sipping wine on the patio
I still memorize poems I’ll never be able to recite to
yr window
when I saw you then, I wished so many days away
and I am sitting on the hill top
and how the tears still taste salty
like when we went to the beach on yr birthday
and I cried about my grandfather and you held my
camera
I still can’t hold this breath long enough to sigh
and when I pass the grave yard where yr brother died
I lay my dreams on the bow of yr bosom
knowing I’ll never know beauty like that night in yr
room.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
6:11, Wednesday, 5.25.05
in the girth of yr eyes
wide and teary eyed
I laid mortar of care around yr fortress heart
and the soft tide washed ever near
and going under water for last breaths
passing under moon light
with another time aside
where I look out past this old life
and how the changes make me look thru my fingers for
the cracks
and recover sins of my forefathers
I spent my last five dollars on yr library fines
with my apple eyed forgone conclusion out the door
but with the wine and champagne already poured
I’ll be the one you run away from,
and my eyes will dry themselves on yr sheets.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
9:55 thursday, 5.26.05
Plot the careless excursion
wash my heart in words from yr letter
I told you I have yr heart
and with my hands shaking
I said to myself:
“busy hands, busy hands
so many self-imposed demands”
I came to the bathroom
with several different options
pins and needles and liver and onions
washing machines and hospital knives
and I told myself:
“careless hands, careless hands
so many self-inspired demands”
then I pushed thru many layers of flesh
and still looked to do so much more
with yr eyes closed we’ll have to stay
and build up the constant joy
and we will tell ourselves:
“busy hands, careless hands
so many self-destructive demands”
falling down thru thoughts of sacred nights and
un-promised times
these are my shaking leafy branches crossing and
uncrossing,
because who cares about salvation in the next life,
when it never comes in this one.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I could never hurt you
with my hands tied to the radiator
I feel like I love you
but if you untie me
you may find that my heart has changed
the convenient martyred moments
of cast spiders and lost fire fighters
I’ll be true to you, while you keep my arms under
arrest
but know when I get loose I will probably kill you.
