// Reach for Me //

As you reach for me
your hands pour through

my thirst hung upon the tips
of your baptismal fire

touch ritual, touch breath
our skies begin
to merge
emerge
reverberate

we, sharing ribs, we,
trading gestures

collecting, reciprocating.

I return always to
you return to
my hands pour forth

for you

how you touch me
from underneath the pain,
cyclic redemption of what you are
how even without skin
held only by the body of

the empty air in this bluefade room

I can feel you move.

.

.

// Fall for You //

You and I
delicate devils
murderous angels falling dustpink
upon the footsteps

of the dark

as I dance you eclipse me
your eyes along my slenderbones

moonglobes thrust into orbital
desire

kiss this grievous heaven
erupt in the mouth of this sweetpain
love as grace as you puncture

rupture resuscitate
my heart.

.

.

// The Lives We (Do Not) Live //

As I am writing this to you
another life curls herself
against my spine,
she whispers into someone else’s
ears, I mistake them

for my own.

I confuse our turning
toward one another

or away?

The life I have chosen

blooms upon
my chest
as the one which haunts me
stands beside us
always

still.

.

.

// I Hate You I Love You //

I hate the way you write. How you expertly unmask a thing I never felt worthy enough to claim. Baby teeth, bare breasts against a bare back shallow breathing, strip swimming in the lake behind my house on the last golden pages of summer. The red crest of dawn raining along the ocean waves, the space between my fingers as it wraps around your cigarette transporting it from your soft lips to mine.

The way I bite when I kiss you.

All of it makes me want to develop the codes that would bring entire global systems down. Nervous systems, subway systems, government, technology, religion, media, everything with screaming walls you cannot see but feel dividing up the cold chambers of your soul as you sit in bars blinking at screens trying to erase yourself.

I whistle your love songs and imagine pulling the plug on every light across the globe so all that is left to guide the lonely through the blackout streets are white electric clouds sweeping through tree limbs made windy of stars.

I do not know if this is love but the way you rise makes me want to shut everything down.

I want what you have to spread its million mouths wide inside my veins not to taste me but to breed into me, to bleed into me your terrible miraculous insides, to become a thing no one else can touch. An animal which cannot be given a name but all the sorrowslain people, they would give every last breath from their disintegrating lives for just one moment to be this new creature that we are. They would reach for us with beautiful hands as we vanish into the ether.

I wish I could say this in a way that reflects the way it is smoldering on the underside of my trembling tongue, with more elegance, with more grace. So I don’t sound so much like I’m full of grease and some kind of snaked inky greed but there it is. The truth is a gaping black chasm gouged in the table between us. I cannot help but follow my dark thoughts and they have led me here to you, to this crumbling naked room. The air between us growing thin, trying to get out the same way we got in, but the sand falls in too fast.

Two butterflies trapped in an hourglass falling from the sky.

As we observe each other’s bodies but do not speak, the doors of the past all close behind us and disappear.

Here we sit wet and glistening underground, here is the pit of my stomach of fangs and fears. My love, here are my hands and my heart and my sickness.

I beg of you for both of us: start digging.

.

.

// The Bluebruised Heart //

I had tried to speak to you
but the trains all fell from their tracks
and the sky seemed to bleed
its bluebruised heart

between the words in my mind
and the numbness which
grabbed stiff hold of
my tongue.

So if you could just be patient
and not give up on not
letting go
I swear I will be coming home

and it will be so soon
and it will be so crushingly beautiful

like our toes in the
dunegrass and the tiny birds running
along the ocean sunlight
sing.

I know that right now it is quiet
in the night
as you feel the heat
sloping itself through open summer
windows.

Tender sweat has dampened your
alabaster skin
like tears
a whole body cries.

I know the silence hurts more than
any other
sound.
But please remember

I am still here, my angel.

In the stillness of the moonlight
in the handwritten pages
you hold to your
chest.
In between your sweet breathing

and your bothered
fitful dreaming,
you and I
through all the words and beyond them,

and beyond them
even
still

we are forever bound.

.

.

// Sorrow In the Eyes of Them //

Would you let me take you by
the hold of both hands,
by the moonlight falling
clear through two expectant eyes.

May I touch you here
in the dark, two lips heartstained.
Where what stings melts its pain into summer.
Where all that crawls crippled within

turns on its side
and opens its mouth
again
for sun.

.

.

// (Dis)Obedience //

We wait
we are so very pretty
in our waiting.

Cross your fingers,

hold your breath,

remove your

eyes.

There is a gnawing in my cheeks which
never stops, it is keeping sound
with the rippling in my
water glass, it is
waiting for the other

shoe to drop.

And as the sky turns to blood
and trickles down the insides
of my thighs like
sandpaper before the wallpaint
even dries,
we do believe

what we are told.

Sitting for portraits,
sitting for decades, sitting for
no one.

We are so very pretty
growing old.

.

.

 

// Thoughts In the Floorboards Underneath My Bed with Monsters //

This is the space I hold and release between us. It is old and broken wood,
the smell of dark cherries and wine.

Fear from me
is separate,
of joy and sorrow,
I am twice removed.

A round room encircles
a cage which encircles
two birds as they are made to
adapt.

Blind is not blind in the way you listen, from the heart.
The seed contains the tree.

No eyes. Look here: no hands.

You track mud across
my mind
and I have come forward alone

to plant
and grow clouds among the weeds.

Still shine.

What worlds you open into that look in your eyes,
hand over hands held in mine.

We walk through rivers made of streets
moving, windspans underneath the wings
of concrete and glass, shattered collisions
glistenwhite in flight.

Warm blanketing creased faces;
all creatures aware of the dark

will turn themselves

to light.

.

.

 

// Mad Blue Sky //

I just wanted to finger my
way inside the light,
slow thread into capture, press my new
legs aside the sweetness of the
lilac balm
of night.
Breathe in the fleshflower
on the breast of
new life.

Fresh and wet rush the veins
of a deadened universe.
Thirsty neck of holy water,
pleasurepain of erotica
drowning in
fair tenderskin.

Forbidden. Invitation. Permission.

Palms dripping wild of fruit.
Wingbeats,
everstrong.
Descend with me here in small butterflies,
a breeze falls open upon the cradled hands
of one last time

I come alive
and the swallow of the mad blue sky
catches fire
in your eyes.

.

.

// Drink //

Somehow, somewhere,
someplace deep inside we
are the recognition of the featureless,
the faceless approach us, arms outstretched.
Angels without voices
in milkdreams, singing soft songs.

Drink from my wrists, place your tongue to the mist
of my fallen innocence.

Pinkflesh. Lavender. Bergamot.

You have not spoken for so long and I am forgetting what
I swore never to let subside
but if this is the sound which was the beginning, it is also
the sounding of the end.
Tall fences outrunning perfect white lawns,
birds flying higher
behind the sunbreaks,
this paleness of my feathered breathing
pinned to the edges of a
neverreaching
dawn.

.

.