The Horse Next Door

Her smooth feathered hide lay firmly on sleek
muscles, twitching for flies. Irritation
wells inside, for nobility should not
be inconvenienced by paper thin wings
that survive mere days. Dew beads up on her
silken strands while my translucent skin scrapes
across trench wire. No clicking, calling, or
kissing will summon the earth shaking stomps
I seek to feel below, but scents of fruit
enchant her sway. For a moment, I sink
to know that my hands alone could never
be worthy to draw her sweet breath closer.

Another High Rise Dream

I was staying in a high rise apartment much like the one in Waikiki. It's always been the same one, even before I went to Hawaii. There were two bedrooms connected to mine by sliding glass doors; you were staying in the one on the left and my old friend from back home was staying in the one on the right.

It was really late at night and I was visiting my friend on her side. It was dark and relaxing there, with dark brown wooden book cases and soft, earth colored throws everywhere. She looked beautiful; she wearing an oversized knit sweater that hung off her toned, milky-white shoulders just below her golden blonde hair.

In contrast to the relaxing environment, her energy was manic and off-putting. She paced around, listing of all the accomplishments that she had achieved while being a single mother, one of which was law school. I didn't know that she had gone to law school and a feeling of 'am I doing enough?' started slowly creeping in, so I stopped listening to the words she was saying and began, instead, listening to the sounds emitting from her mouth. Even though she was acting strange and made me uncomfortable, I didn't want to leave. She started giving me 'I'm going to bed now so get out of here' signals. I gave in and retreated to my room. I felt lonely.

I thought about going over to your side but I figured you were sleeping and I didn't want to bother you. I knew you had to catch an early flight home in the morning. Out of the corner of my eye I saw your reflection in the glass of a huge framed pictured on my wall. You were standing up. Stretching. I thought, 'You're up!'

As I got up to head to your room, a large middle-aged black man wearing a bell hop uniform burst out the door carrying your clothing away on hangers. I asked him what was going on and he said that your flight was actually tonight and he was helping you get ready. I stood there at the sliding glass door looking into your room and I could see you moving around but I could never get a good look at you. Your room was washed out with bright, white light and empty except for some clothes on hangers. I wanted to go in but I resisted.

You turned toward me and walked into my room, passing me abruptly without speaking. I finally saw that you had no face. It was just a flat, blank, flesh-colored surface where your face should have been.

I spent the rest of the night watching you pack, silently wishing that you weren't leaving and that I could be close to you.

Date Night

All orbits are in order
Gravity is firm

Through shimmering untouched snow

Tender swooping rings of light
Drag bits of bygones behind

Bodies skim bruised terrain

In another dimension
Two worlds are colliding

But that is not happening here

Haiku 1

Golden sun rises
Stretches for endless valleys
I miss everyone

Paperworks

a piece of paper and a pen
you know I'm not one to offend
so when you shuffle me like that
you know I gotta fold you in

intoxicating paper flowers
sleep beside you for an hour
when I wake up all alone
I wonder how I lost my power

cross my heart and dot my i's
I sign my goodbye letter twice
and when the mailman finally comes
I see you've sent me a surprise

origami bird and cage
now I'll never be assuaged
and when I try to set it free
white streaks come rolling down the page

I don't quite know what else to do
I fake a weekend with the flu
alone with paper and a pen
I collate love letters to you

Dinner

She lowered the limp spaghetti onto the mahogany in front of him.
donk-clink
The sound rattled neither of them.
He wound it around the prongs so slowly, steadily, like a water hose she would never leave in the yard for fear of killing the grass.
He had always been meticulous, you see.
Salt, one shake. Pepper, three.
Steak on Sunday, spaghetti on Monday.
He found her cooking boring and she knew because he had told her.
You see, people should know where there is room for improvement.
She looked him right in the eyes through the bottom of his red wine glass.
There was dust on the rim, she could see it.
The second hand marched on until the oven timer shrieked.
Dessert.

Pet Rock

Pet rock in the stream

Like none that I’d seen

I kicked that thing

The entire way home

I drew on it a face

‘Cause it looked out of place

Set it next to the vase

But it didn’t fit in

It wouldn’t cuddle at night

It just didn’t feel right

So, out of my sight

I tossed it back in the stream

I thought it was gone

But every morning at dawn

There it is on the lawn

The dog brings it to me

Drive

While I drive

Through deer and dusky hills

It's no longer strange the streets all bear your name

The wheels turn

Unknowingly to you

You're not aware the places I take you

Your eyes fade

Like a slowly sinking sun

I forget the contours of your back and face

A mirage

Were you ever really there

A distant light I never seem to reach

A song plays

And once again I'm gone

The rising road to nowhere meets my soles

The wolf cries

I pretend we share the moon

It chases me, I chase you down the road

1:34

stream of no sleep
chilled arms
elephant hands
scratch my skin
and turn and turn and turn
sing the saddest modest mouse
song i know then bruce
springsteen
then some other sad song
regretting that third
cup of coffee
tasting the 4th
too tired to work
too wired to sleep
numbers bills
numb hearse pills
nummer spills
num
nu
m
ugh
now why
why
did you
nevermind
but it did
hurt
i create the possibility
of not caring
and stuffing
my feelings
like thanksgiving
so much
to say
but don't ruin
the damn dinner
there's enough
salt on this table
go
to
sleep
go
back
to
sleep
like
maynard
told me to

Sick Fantasy

saltine sponges
float around in hot broth
I can see clear to the bottom

my mummified motions
under wet heavy blankets
smother my postcard dreams

every sip of yellow Gatorade
reminds me that somewhere
a beautiful woman
glistens on a beach

I close my eyes
feel sand on my knees
but it's crumbs in the sheets
I sneeze

Love Scare

You don't want another pep talk
And my jaw bone is retired
Candy words have lost their flavor
Drip and cloud your sticky eyes

Spun between tight ropes and graves
On weather-beaten thread
You fantasize about the break
While I keep the crowd at bay

Sometimes I dream that killing moon
Would crush you on the horizon
Still every morning here comes the sun
And scarecrow guards my window

I spring up to find my heart shaped box
And swallow the skeleton key
But in every photo I stand alone
In a dream of a dream of a dream

New Photo - Poetry Project!

Here's what I'm up to.

I've joined forces on a new photo-poetry project called "All That I Want Is." with my dear friend and talented photographer Paige Prince. She captures beautiful images with her camera, I write about the images, and vice versa. Jazzed doesn't even begin to describe my current state!

Read more about Paige, our vision, and the first piece on our brand new blog:

http://allthatiwantis.blogspot.com/

Us.

I Thought This Autumn Would Be Different

Autumn 

It gives heavy perfume

Dying leaves are

Necks on lips or

Midwest mouth on

Southern hips

Screen doors

We have to shut them soon

Prickly stars do

Same that Mars do 

Mange coyote 

Sniffs out moon

Sick Sycamore

Bends whispers low

Between thin slats

Nowhere to go

My wooden room

Set fire ablaze to

Fireplace too

Smoke billows in

In summery plumes

Autumn

Runs away

Too soon

Peanut Butter and Honey

see you riding your bike past the old chain links
wiry hair
doing tricks that your mama can't stand
no hands on the handles, your eyes are on me
bad attitude, it's paper thin like a LITE-BRITE
maybe all that goodness ripped those holes in your jeans
look down at my polka dot sneakers and shorts
kick the dirt by the swings 'cause it's never quite right
always play by that book that maybe doesn't exist
stiller and stiller until no longer seen
see sticky hands clasp together, peanut butter and honey
Chevy smoke all around but there's plenty of air
heavy leaves cover tracks and stick to our backs
we shout from big trees
we are young
we are free
no one can stop us
we are young
we are free
we cannot be broken
we are young
we are free
we will not be unseen
we are young
we are free

Thirst and Repose

I think I am bored. The kind of bored that makes me hungry to write, but the words get stuck like sharp burps with nothing to back them up, no reason to get up and get out. The kind of bored that makes me feel thirsty- I know I feel it, I just don't know where it lives or what words I can use to describe it. The kind of bored that makes me miss you and choreograph our next encounter. It will be quiet and still.

In Waikiki there are ____ people. There are ____ hotels. There are _____ balconies. Art deco monuments suspend underweared bodies on their sides, taking private photos for their private vaults in plain view. I am taking pictures too. Five miles behind them black clouds try to shake off blacker mountains, but letting go is too hard to hold. They dissipate at the thought. It never rains here, no matter how strong the sensation.

The next time I see you I will ask nothing of you. I will water you like ilima and watch your veins become bold again. I will breathe you in deeply to memorize your scent. I will study your origins and will not forget. I will not smudge and I will not blemish. I will tell you I love you again.