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.

Autumn Ghost Plea

This is our time, come
Lay your head on gray stones
A flirtatious pillow, but not your own
Just try it on for a while
Forget the color blue
Let hollowed experience, twisting nothingness through
This is our season, bear
Down on gelded ground
You'll be significant then as you are meaningless now

Out Of Order

My pupils quiver from flickering lights
And rain slows down
Every thing
The furniture sleeps
And how I wish
I could melt into arms and flames
Déjà vu
I know this
Sunk into electric wires
In imperceptible kinks, you hid
We shared our skin before we were born
So tightly I fit in
The blanket wakes
The coffee tastes
The pulse reports
It's cart before horse
Impulse tied to future lines 
Spreads me thin across the ceiling
I know you know
About déjà vu
I know you know
How I know you

Golden Sun

I want to pick my head up
Too afraid of the next blow
Shattered from the youthful years
No chance in hell to grow
I'll tell you what you want to hear
To keep you coming 'round
Just shield me from the sun
I'll eat your crumbs up off the ground

----

Come out and let the golden sun
Gently press upon your hide
Take part in nature's graceful gifts
That look upon you now with pride
The words you speak can't hurt you
So release them from their cages
The pain you feel, the love you crave
Has persisted through the ages

Haunt

She was a pretty one
And the next one will be too
And the next one won't quite break your heart
But the next one will be cruel

And every single girl to come
Will ask to be set free
But not a one will ever know
At night you think of me

And when you're out of things to say
Your poems have all been writ
You'll cry out for the only one
Who knows all your secrets

Each one like sand will slip away
One by one they'll take a bow
Rest assured, the next hundred girls
Won't love like I do now

Nameless Claw

Power down when I'm not around so I can relax/ I can't let my guard down/ What if you go changing on me?/ You're my wallpaper, so still/ Absorbing shadows, reflecting light/ All night you watch/ All day you wait/ And still, so unsettled/ I find no rest unless I'm alone in pitch black where figments pull me back/ Deeper within you/ But the coming back gets harder/ I run away and run away/ Still I'm not surprised when you become the chasing moon and stay in my window 'til long past noon/ Now I know I'll never thaw out/ So what do I call this nameless claw that's ripping through my chest?

Eyes

I

My hands splashed in
warm puddles in your eyes
back and forth
stinging red to milky white
like the changing of leaves that
we crushed under our backs.
No running permitted, only
existence in convergence;
no words conjured, but
the words bubbled up from
the canyons of yours
and the glaciers of mine.

II

Doberman black brown
Ready to hold down
Quivering and still
'Til master bends will

Black Pistol Dream

We were hanging out in some high rise building in a big city. The interior was kinda shitty and messy. You were pacing around and acting kind of crazy, saying you were going to do something... you grabbed two black pistols and handed one to me. We went out the back door and down the stairs to the alley that opened up to a huge, grassy park. We talked for a minute... we were in agreement about what was said... then you grabbed your gun and started shooting it up into the air while running around like a madman. I looked on approvingly, but I left my gun dangling on a ladder. I watched as people all around started scattering and screaming and I was compelled to pick up my gun and shoot it at the ground one time in agreement. The man in front of me turned around; I saw he was a police officer. He very matter-of-factly looked me in the eyes and shot me in the chest one time and turned around and walked away. The whole world slowed down around me and I thought 'This is it. I'm going to die. This is how I'm going to die. I can't believe it. All I did was shoot the ground and now I'll never see another day.' I kept putting my fingers on the wound, looking for blood, but there was no blood-- just a hole because the bullet had gone through me. I suddenly felt hopeful that I could live if I could just get help, but no around me would stop.

Wartime Folly

I mistook a dream for a summer breeze
From a peaceful decade past
Now I'm sweating bullets
In Allandale tower
In twisted gowns
And broken glass

Outside the window
Between nuclear sun and suburban cracks
I see no black mirage
But feel the ricochet
Of cannons on the ground
And a hand upon my back

Wildfire

I long like the sunset
watches the moon
I ache like the wintertime
wishes for June
I hover like honeybees
wait for the bloom
I dream like a mockingbird
remembers a tune
I hide like the sand
transforms into dunes
I shrink like the pines
reflect off the lagoon
I desire like morning
expires at noon
I need you like wildfire
exists to consume

Verständnis Ist Nicht Möglich

(Understanding Is Not Possible)

------

It was just last night that I entertained friends on a balcony in some vast, faceless city. An icy full moon hung low in the west, slowly sinking down. All I wanted was for my friends to gaze upon it. I cried, shouted, pleaded for them to look. A few acknowledged, but I could not be sure that they understood. In a moment I turned my head eastward and there was the orange-pink sun, softly burning on the horizon. It was not too bright to look at directly and moved slowly up the sky as if pulled by an invisible string. The sky did not brighten; it remained a pleasing dark blue. I saw fire and ice together. I was overwhelmed by the fleetingness of this moment and in that instant my only desire was to share it with all of humanity.

------


When one waters weeds with runoff from one's gutters
One will wheeze with weary will when watering the others.


------

Tell me the difference
Between a dream and a memory
So that I can think it's true.

Scale the heights
Of these walls in my mind
Then retrieve what only I'd know.

Crawl into my skin
From the outside in
And describe to me
Each bead of sweat
Salty tear
Guttural flutter
Breath.

------

Are you really here with me?

------

The difference between a dream and a memory
Is that one is what you want, and one is what you need.

Deep inside the recess of your mind
You're a napping lion at the zoo.

Joy and pain feel quite the same
If you push either away.

------

It was just last night that I watched a meteor shower with my girlfriends. We drove south for half an hour and still could not escape the polluting light of the city. We spread our blankets over the rocks and let them dig into our backs. We let the spiders crawl over our arms and faces. We waited for hours and only saw a few. I rolled over on my side and draped my arm across my friend and said, "This is all I want from you."

Goodbye, Chicago

If you drained the lagoon
In Humboldt Park
There you'd find my still beating heart
Next to no fish, no love letters, no wishes
Half-buried treasures left behind by dumb kids
Who had no idea how to swim

If you scraped off the gum
From Wrigleyville's streets
You'd not have enough to hold onto me
Slow buses, fast trains, stand-by planes
Take me back to faces in pictures
Still not knowing the things I don't know

If you washed off the scent
Of Clark and Balmoral
You'd never suspect what an animal I am
Fur drenched, hunger gone, thirst quenched
Hibernation takes over
I can't recognize my own face

Timely Death

Just two weeks and weaker by the day
But only two weeks to survive;
Too weak to survive what's already been--
What a fortnight cannot revive.

Little Devil

I cling to the cusp of transformation - the brink of something
new. And there's a devil deep inside me that pushes its way
through my lips, my hands, my hips, my thighs. I love, I give,
I get closer to One - So high in the clouds, this must be
you. But in the morning I wake, hungover from exposure,
with emptiness in hand, and loneliness in heart.
Soon from the depths, the devil is
renewed, and the clawing begins at the start.

I'm Not Into Titles Right Now

I need to find a baby in Chicago
Silent burp-a-baby-until-you-find
-an-unexpected-way-to-die improv 
scenes just won't suffice right now.
I need to find a baby in Chicago
One that really drinks and wets!
It will sleep when I sleep and
when it's awake it will look up
at me and smile and when I smell 
its head I will be one with the 
sun, the moon, the stars. But first,
I need to find a baby in Chicago
I'll teach it to say mamamama
and stand across the room with
my arms outstretched, waiting
for the first step to come and into 
my arms it will enter toddlerdom.
The two of us will go for stroller 
walks and stop for ice cream if 
the feeling's right, then onward
past the weary folks with dogs 
we'll babble back and forth in code.
I need to find a baby in Chicago