Poetry

I Guess What I Wanted Was        We Have Been Called

You Tell Me        Bukowsky's Widow

Dylan        I'm Writing To Tell You

Saved From Myself        Father Of A Deaf Girl

The Things You Fear        Miracle

Second Thoughts On Columbus, Ohio        Too Many Nights

Pretty        Bleary Eyed

Mercy        Sun Bathing

The Things You Fear


The things you fear

are undefeatable

not by their nature

but by your approach

We Have Been Called


We have been called

naïve

as if it were

a dirty word

We have been called

innocent

as though with shame

our cheeks should burn

So

We visited with

the careful idols

of cynicism

to learn to sneer

and pant and walk

so as not to feel the scales

of judgment rub wrongly

But we say

some things must

remain simple

some things must remain

untouched

and pure

lest we all forget

the legacy which begot us

the health of our origins

the poetry of our fundamental selves



And so

it is to

the longing hearts we sing

rise! spread

your wings!

Let no hand

nor ill will

keep you.

Dylan

I had a dream last night

that a little girl came to me.

Her hair was a halo of warm light

and color dripped off her tongue


She was your daughter

and in her I saw the fruit

of everything I'd ever fought for

or believed in, or dreamt of.

Bukowsky's Widow


My prince has slipped!

and his face has turned

to shadow

his tongue no longer strong

but gray (how sad!)

it used to be so full

of spit and roses


My prince the stars have

fallen from your crown

And I can not fathom

their fading-

some things should be forever!


You've taken your coal

and your seaward gaze-


You've taken your will

and your weakness and left

me with nothing but

words to keep me warm

But I don't want them!

Take them back!


I want Paris

I want you drunk on wine

I want to walk with you

and hold you up

and giggle and kiss

God how I miss

your smile and thick skin


At night

(Do you remember?)

How I'd worry

and you'd press me tight

against you. Extinguishing

the red flame

of my head against 

your shoulder

Smooth as chalk dust you'd laugh

in the face of

death and uncertainty

Do you remember?

You'd say time knew nothing

well now you're gone

and time is all I have left

You Tell Me


It cannot be so

you say

simple hands

cannot change

the fate of humanity.

I say

Humanity is

a boundless,

absorbing heart

transcending

death & generations

and centuries

absorbing bullets

and stitches

and tear gas

enduring humiliation

and illegal abortions

and thankless jobs

I say to you

the heart of Humanity

has not

and will not

be broken

and let us raise ourselves

like lanterns

with the millions of others-

with the mad

and the forgotten

and the strong of heart

to shine

Too Many Nights


It's been

too many nights

of being with

to now be suddenly

without

Saved from Myself

How often I've cried out

in silent tongue

to be saved

from myself

in the middle of the night

too afraid

to move

horrified the answer

may be beyond the

capability of my

own two hands

so small

(no one should feel this alone)

Sun Bathing


I read a book

and the man thinks

I can not see

the wrinkled posture

of his son

as he is nudged.

He thinks

I can not sense

four eyes

upon my flesh

as the father tries

to bond with

his teenage boy

by ogling my breasts.

Second Thoughts in Columbus, Ohio


I find it strange that we search

our whole lives for love

as though it were the

final treasure

the solemn purpose of people

in movies and magazines.

Yet when it comes to your door

one morning with calm eyes to deliver itself

you realize it alone is not enough.



You are before me, sweet man,

and I am thinking

Aren't I supposed to give up

everything?

Aren't I supposed to be brave

and abandon

each dream and aspiration

and yield utterly to this

elusive beast love,

to your soft belly and companionship?



Aren't we supposed to 

have a piece of land-and children!-

that look like you, and cook

soup and bread and sing

each other songs before sleep

and absentmindedly count the stars

from our front porch as we pray

for each other's keep

and pretend

forever is a word known

not only by the heart?

Father of a Deaf Girl


Every time her hands began to stutter he became

enraged. She threw these fits sometimes, and he

never took the time of understand what they meant.

Her words were wasted on him. Her hands useless

birds caged by their quietness, and he would

immobilize them, tying her wrists together so they'd

jump like awkward fish, gasping at the shock of air.

Un-heard they'd dance like that for hours, her eyes

full of silent desperation, on the other side of the

closet door. He never even knew what they were

saying.

Pretty


There is a pretty girl

on the

Face

of the magazine

And 

all I can see

are my dirty 

hands

turning the page

Bleary eyed


Bleary eyed

and sleepy still

I unwrapped you

of the morning

like careful fruit

with forbidden flesh

made sweeter by

the scorning



My hands still shaky

from kisses sweet

and the dark hours

of night's embrace

I checked to see

if fastened vines

my heart had left

in silv'ry trace



While you slept

I looked inside your chest

to see what there

was growing

I saw my heart

with quiet eyes

to your side its self

was gently sewing



I saw my heart

with quiet eyes

to your side its self

was gently sewing

Mercy


I'm leaving

You're done

Cut the cord

I will bare my heart


Make sure it's sharp


Make it quick


Flash your will against me

relieve this red smear

Smother the beating

dull the pulse

Show mercy

Spare it from your side

and I will rip

what was yours, what was living in me,

and return it to you.



Do it while our hearts

are still intact

before they rot in each other's care

before they become riddled with bitterness

choked by the stinking seeds

of resentment.

I Guess What I Wanted Was


I guess what I

wanted was

to hear

you'd stay with me always.



I guess what I

wanted was

to see



those hands vowing 

never to leave my own.



I guess what 

I wanted was

to know



I am not loving in vain.

I'm Writing to Tell You

I'm writing 

this letter to tell you



I don't love you anymore.



I don't miss you.



I never have.



The truth is, I

tried, but never found

your adoration

anything other than arduous,



your niceties cliched,



your praise thoughtless,



and it has become

unbearably obvious

that you love me with

all the originality

of romance novels;



the manly man weakening

the luscious flower.



But do not be sad,

nothing is lost,

neither of us even loved

the other truly-

you only thought you did

and I only wanted to.

Miracle


Listen!



Do you hear it?

I do.

I can feel it.

I expect a miracle is coming.

It has set loose this restlessness

inside of me.



Expect it.

Dream about it.

Give birth to it in your being.

Know! Something good

is coming down the line.

Finding its way to you

like all things find their way

to god's children.



Listen!