{ex nihilo}  

Do you know 

where the sky begins? 

It’s somewhere within  

my thoughts 

and your skin. 

A place we’ve been taught, 

to only imagine, 

ceaselessly sought, 

amaranthine. 

Do you know 

where the stars are born? 

In the sloe, blackthorn warmth 

of whispers across shores,

of inky dreams half-formed,

from my mouth to yours, 

unspoken words sworn.

Your allure, an open door, 

sublimations shorn. 

Do you know

the force of the undertow? 

Have you dared to drown, 

or braved the swim alone? 

I’ve rooted firmly underground, 

Unwilling to surface or float. 

But cast your net and safely surround, 

I’ll emerge to welcome your boat. 

{lenape park}  

An interruption erupts 

in this static place.

I am an imposition,

tolerated, greeted even, 

by her indifference. 

But I’m here now.

The grass flinches below my toes.

A swan slices cool, wet glass, 

unaware of my presence.

Gnats convene in clusters,

circling each other in simple,

mad confusion.

Mating not for survival’s sake, 

but despite their blissful ignorance 

of divine design. 

People think God made the world

and everything in it

for our pleasure and awe;

but here, I doubt that.

Here, life flows on,

obstinate, rooted,

with or without a witness.

Birds fly over my head

without caring if I know

where they go.

Free from hesitation or tension,

A doe humors my gaze, 

and then looks away, 

disinterested.

I feel ashamed sometimes,

spying on Nature.

Until I remember: 

We are the only creatures

plagued by petty inhibitions.

Language is a gift,

and an affliction,

like memory, and 

presumptions of immortality.

But here, time does not amplify 

beyond the setting sun,

or the seasonal rolodex.

Trees do not remember

being seeds,

nor do they aspire 

to grow taller each day.

But they move when the wind blows;

they get sick and die,

unless we cut them open first,

counting their rings to measure years.

The amber sun elongates,

angling through leaves, 

burning, pushing me away.

But I overstay, unwelcome:

a beguiled blot upon the 

halcyon lawns of Paradise. 

{immersion}  

My mouth, lips dipped 

into the warmth of your cheek  

like a velvet pool.

{a proper goodbye}

Sometimes I leave

the kitchen light on,

and spend all day 

forgetting. 

At night I come home

and my stomach churns.

I ascend the stairs,

conjuring a scene,

Starring your absence. 

Pausing at the last step,

I feel you waiting,

with your 

spare key

and your

dark stare.

I want you

to be there,

chasing me.

But it’s just my memory.

Overactive imagination,

A naked bulb buzzing,

liberation. 

{the chaotic bliss of fire + air}

My dreams of you are vermillion.

Defiant, we stroll the sea surface,

Above a fluorescent forest 

of Catalina Goby fish.

Frivolous,

Amphibious,

Octillion,

Reptilian.

My dreams of you are cerulean.

We bathe in the nighttime blue,

Stained glass shatters as we argue.

My windows open wide for you, parvenu.

Caramel complexioned, corkscrew Jew.

I’m onto you. 

Saturated, our contrast colors imbue.

My dreams of you are few.

They debut like a wish come true.

Like lifeblood floods young limbs,

Chartreuse. 

My beginner’s eyes open wide, ingenue. 

Out of my subconscious you appear,

Obsidian. 

Not you, my version of you, untrue,

Viridian.

More green than blue,

more me than you,

Effervescing into oblivion. 

{the sandman}

That summer it didn’t rain once.

Like a bleeding, blooming cactus,

My scent prickled and rose,

And I drew you in by the nose;

Through the loins you spit me out,

A water bearer for my drought.



You sunk white teeth into my soul, 

Every somnolent secret you stole, 

Ripped gently from my sleeping tongue, 

You sucked me down black dragon lungs.



Your words spun webs of rhyme-n-rhythm,

As your crooked joker grin glinted,

And cracked to release the billows.

You have the ethos of an armadillo.

I have the backbone of a jellyfish.

This wildfire is set to extinguish.

{blood moon}

Here we are my friend,

Steering affection astray, 

Down that carnal dead end, 

We're speeding toward again. 

Treating DNA like child's play. 

What would our mothers say?

Hands gripped at the verge, we hover, 

Consanguineous, cut from the same, 

A paradox of ancient modern lovers, 

Impenetrable is our genetic membrane. 

Akin, our minds think words unuttered, 

Too close and so far from each other. 

There's a surface I don't dare to break: 

To dive deep in the wrecked ravine, 

A full frontal collision with heartache. 

The choice I don't make, to bloody risk-take, 

To lean in, body-soul, let go, careen, 

Lose control, and expel my primal scream. 

{plateauing}

A chill February morning

Finds me tangled in the wiry arms of electronic bedmates,

In striped sheets sprinkled with crumbs and ash,

And a left tibial plateau fracture.
 

But I pause to celebrate.

In 11 days I will have been born, 25 years ago.

A quarter century of anatomical luck,

Not bad for a chickenshit novice,

A privileged pre-op princess.
 

*
 

My Handsome brown orthopedic surgeon 

Talks shop over my tears as he studies the x-rays:

"A decompression of the bone. Very unusual."

"Really?" Flattered wet lashes flutter (he thinks I'm unusual?).

His distinguised brow elevates to explain

Nothing. He reassures: "It's very unusual." 

“Look, I’ll enter here.”

He sketches a diagram of the surgery.

A black “V” scribble

Marks me, 

Nearly devirginized,

Dented, but not broken.

Cut, plate, screw, sew me up.

General anesthetic, Doctor?

I trust you... 

You'll fix everything that hurts. 
 

After surgery, he flaunts endoscopic photo evidence

Of his "textbook" precision,

And announces my tissue and his incision

Will be printed in a medical school manual.

There, I’m published—

Anonymous, osseous,

With plenty of post-op potential.

*

Blanketed by March fog,

My fingers and toes crack.

Stiff hands search for heat,

And find it in a boy’s t-shirt.

"Baby, you're freezing,"

He mumbles to the wall.

I want to ask: "Why won't you love me?"

But his bedside manner is too icy for inquisitions.

So instead, I whisper with a kiss to his carotid:

"I'm always freezing."

{a promise for contact}

There we were, unjustly instigated,

talkin’ bout ghosts n stuff

and how

sometimes things get complicated.

From first contact, we were

face to face.

And now we settle

for a digital embrace.

This world is not exactly sane,

but the reward is chesse,

when you treat it like a game.

Soon I'll be faxing berlin

to give you my words,

these words that speak

of our future fame.

*

We are the punks

Ticking on our grind

like clockwork towards the cosmic gate.

Here we stand

ready we wait

for some kind of blue

to slip into the hands of fate.

*

I remember how it feels

to be jaded,

how sometimes things get,

whatever.

But I'm searching for serenity

in the sunny West coast weather.

Can I write it all down

and send you my letters?

*

I'm snagged on my fear,

To be what you see

in me,

so listen…

this is the hook:

a promise to make contact,

let’s remember what we took. 

*

I learned it all so long ago,

don't let your mind chain down your soul.

Freedom is reaching for

The vanishing point:

where I was, alone with you...

hi friend

bye friend

assorted memories 

back and forth we send.

Now finally we're gone. 

Bounce.

We made it to the end.

{a wedding poem}

A future first conceived of toy wishes,

Where bold fingers grip paper dolls and planes,

With rigid tales of Mister and Missus,

Innocent kisses consummate their games.

Young lust is a meteoric glimmer,

Lost and found between blinks of endless sky.

Memories heal as time becomes dimmer,

And adulthood hatches, ready to fly.

Sedona sunsets brew desert romance,

And urban streets distill steadfast regard.

Deep love digs roots as soulful thoughts enchant,

Fertile fruit grows in nourished earth once marred. 

So what does it take?

The courage to bend,

But never to break.

Arise then descend,

Cracks without a quake.

Loyalty upends,

What once was heartache.

October 13, 2012

{afflicted elixir}

Autumn marks your counterfeit advance.

Affected, we perfect the rituals of romance, 

your chilled caresses burn my frozen trance.

Fondly our follied chemistry brews,

in the pounding void of a laser lit milieu,

fumbling in darkness, a unity eschewed.

If you listen to me I'll listen to you.

Deeply we drink pinhead gunpowder tea,

tongues steeped in intoxicated expectancy,

swallowing the chemical scent of graffiti.

Two for you and one for me,

through smiles seep translucent teeth, 

brimming full, three shots of GHB.

If I listen to you will you listen to me?

Gills flap like fish, thirsty for the infinite ocean, 

while sound waves breathe our drowning devotion. 

Life is a drunken dream, careening on lovesick potion.

What law keeps my axis spinning on this notion?

We hear without listening, we feel without emotion.