Some Things Borrowed

O dear hearts

How many are getting scribbled on

Scrambled, torn and blown away

Flaunted, soured, stoned

For lack of mercy, perhaps

I was born this way too, kneeling

Strobe lifted on a soaring dream

Not exactly my own though

A ribbon, always standing

Straight backed, motionless at attention

Folded and holding, like troubled

Fidgeting hands

Fingers weaved within fingers

Webbed ready butterflies, amber

Sticky and slipping, from root to pulse

Forced through invisible tubes in the arm

Growing swollen, polyps

Poisoning purplish domes

Getting hard as rocks

Something else then,

Mourned from the dark in a surrounded

Wakeful sleep, becoming thirsty, obscene

Even so its kept and held there, a moth

Under the bulb or steaming

From baked clay

Pinned through the black hole

In small birds eye, darling even so

Its little to do with wanting

Tasteless pain, blisters risen so heavenly

In this sin, your features shaded, sick

Under uneven lighting

Like what walks away on death heels

Even with the memory of the heart

I felt once, hatch like an egg in my gut

And even so the children

Are going to get served anyway

Glued with thread to the platter

And down came the ax, through girdle and lace

Bastards, that kept digging

Digging in for seed, for the prize

Drunk static across a screen

Forks twirling buttered flesh

New loves sprouting everywhere

Like noodles and yellow peppers

    

Square Peg, liquid window

You should have gone back to bed, sleeping
Faster, rather then invade parts of private thought
Where I turn--- turn and forget: reality
With a few remaining words, raw
Alive in form, wet and still curling from their
Dirty little holes and (invisibly) straddled, a


Fertile paper door that staples shut
The places where our heads swim into fish lips
Coming undone, as we escape the vine
Ripe, pregnant and round, juice behind
The thin skin of an early summer plum, just
To be bound, tighter then ever
Twine around hips, then pinned against
The sway of a branch, silver water


Some offering to the moon
As we linger there… under the sky’s dark awning
An invented equinox, that burns the bottom
Of the pot like dried corn
A tumor trimmed back against its tender vein


And its not loud at first, you and I
Just the crinkle of a snake shedding in a wooden bowl
-- black and pink neon, that flickers
Abandoned beams down to a walkway… leading
Leading… this way to our side, pleasure and pain
The wings of greenish moths, zapped into circles
Of vaporized sulfur, your eyes


Through waffle screens, as you continue
Changing clothes and skins

The Rage

We were the vapor held in under blondish light

Smoke as it shattered and rolled under the door

Moon kissed and turning like a page

Turning, through last nights brandy, spicy

As our eternity… passion drunk

And blood starved for miles flat against your ripe lips

And a sudden electrocuting emptiness

That split me apart, sending me a thousand ways

I was dizzy in white dust, a sprout growing

In a full day of sun

But its all going black now, let out

Frost spiked into ever so slightly

-

Under an even glow

Of spinning stars

 

Flossy Lines

We draw our way through journeys, lifetimes
Productions of places and things with insides that
Indulge, breathe and become lost---
Cloud’s rafting, swimming, changing, going to
Places built from bone
Restless and blind we stir, in some limp hope
Beginning long before we met, from the first
Long drop into someone else’s life, at birth


Matrimony: to the horizon, smaller glimpses
Running deeper into simple things---
Tornadoes of sand spinning, stinging
Blooming into dark purple moons that ring
Under the eyes, blood and shrill voices that drag you
Through halls with their ghosts


Shortly we’ll be engulfed by more nonsense
Night wings that tickle and prance
Beyond the wreckage


Time fluttering home on threads of light
down, down... into curtains of the deep

Once

Here and There:
Time would surly snap
as it split in two, in the slide
down death's blade--
in the curling of a dried stem
as though scissors met a ribbon
whenever we're torn apart

Various emotion still assembles
with the change of weather,
puddling outside the balcony doors
as the window pulls in
more cold air, whenever your gone

Candle lighting, a dangerous game
as wax drips down the edge
of empty wine bottle and
onto the table---

Your shoes sit in a far corner
chewing their own leather
that moment of loss
that presents itself as echoes
stacked on echoes, when home
feels as bare as a
warehouse floor---

And you may never return
to a place that has flowers

On wet leaves

 We went together, smooth and directly
As fine as the fittings between feathers
As she adored us
In the open mouthed softness of her breast
While we ‘became’ reflections of her sun
Goldenrod globes on peppered layers
Leaning on top of the dark
Something microscopic
Flooding the blood around our
Shimmering creamed trunks


To die there, was life everlasting
Eden in its forbidden magic, between hands
And the blooming pedals of thorns and
Her held rose. Depending on her
An uncharted depth, as vast as waves
Through a sweetly salted ocean, the days
And afternoons of waiting in limp heat
Sections of cool citrus, or
A halved corpse, shaped perfectly
Above the opposite side of myself

Knowing something’s more…

The world tries hard
To crumble my bones, but never
Hard enough:

Today I stood at the window
Still as stone, watching

The sun sink into the ground
For more then an hour, I

Let my eyes adjust to the fading
Purple light, to the tortured sky

Till the tentacle that anchors
Everything became visible, just

Beyond the soft curve
Of the horizon, as it detached

And settled back down, into the
Shapeliness of its the womanly arch

And you know what you want
You want to be carried away from

Your fruitless labor, somewhere else
Birth to crows and vapor, a husk

As your former self falls dead on
The floor, all flattery failed,

All history erased,  more and more, then

The end of the print