Sewn

4/26/11

She said "show me what it's like to live"

eyes meeting mine, a chestnut gaze
thrashing down to the lost notes of my soul
invisibly clenching her fist round my mind
control gripped by a mistress in mahogany skin
soon that's all she stand in, pressed against mine
incense releasing perfume in vines of smoke that cling
binding us pulling us into never never above the city street
The pink of her lips matching the blush of my cheeks
Her hand finds my shoulder, tracing my veins
slow, steady, confidence in the journey
down lower, knees tremble, I whisper
"stitch me anew, take these pieces and sew starscape on this canvas, constellations from scars
Use your fingers as thread, your breath as a compass"
without hesitation she lays me among the crimson pillows, plush works of art
A mile of legs wrapping tight with my own
smooth on smooth, defying logic and sparking into flames on the comforter
as she engulfs me completely
The room transformed
Our bodies instinctively sweat off the heat
while we claw, drop, and roll, no signs of stopping
twisting up in satin sheets
panting out prayers to Aphrodite and Ares
not sure which god these moans belong to
Close to ecstasy now as she kisses my throat
digs into my torso, makes her final thrust
waves crash and rush over me, breaking my lungs into a thousand droplets of ice cold rain
that pour out onto our molten hot bodies
again
then again
Drenched in harmony, steam swimming off in relief
the clock starts up with a gentle tick, tock
Time resumes
The fog rolls away and what remains seems a dream
Trenches on her back match the road map I keep in my chest
The war wounds compressed, healing found in these arms that still hold
With a smirk she dances out 8 bits of wisdom
"If this is living, I finally like it"
I blink in agreement then pull her in close
time to cuddle under this blanket while dusk's last rays hit us soft
golden dewdrops mismatched to greet a new dawn

Tackled

4/26/11

Put away the bait

and pack up the lines

I'm finally tired

of hooks hanging,

dangling,

tangling in power grids

like the kite that didn't notice the kid on the other end of the string,

jerking wildly in a frenzied panic, listening instead to the summer wind whispering freedom,

flight away from a planet full of black smog and dying roses.

Voices like that gotta be heard with a grain of salt, not a spoonful of sugar.

Didn't realize I was among them 'til I ran out of lures and the hearts kept coming.

My speakerbox pounding out pulses to match

the rhythm of bloodbeats,

audio drumming

visceral humming in the bones of the sweetest kind of deadly catch.

Young girls in skirts and leather,

Innocent boys with glasses and sweater vests,

march in double time,

a chorus line

of Vans and Converse

blinded to the audience surrounding them

feeling unique

tuned in to a frequency born and bred

Just. for. you.

I meant the words, I spoke truth but actions are louder and mine were lacking (to say the least).

The insincerity of it comes crashing in, a needle full of dark red poison

that used to run through these veins.

Before the magic tricks and memory games

Back when blood tasted more like iron and less like water

When fire left scars

When souls still had names.

Time to retire the tackle box to the graveyard of toys in the attic

Leave it next to the treadmill to collect dust and stay silent

I won't pretend my hands are clean but their no longer loaded

guess that's progress

guess that's something

guess I've had it with the haunting whisper of winds

at least it's progress

it's something.

Hymn #89

4/22/11

The only places I can find you

are the ones that collect all the rain

the dust

the cobwebs

Places no one else could live except for spectral fantasies

Like the taste of a copper penny I find you in all the wrong moments

In between red lights and sips of too cold coffee

Laying naked with fibers woven into the basket with a hole that the farmer has since abandoned

seasons ago in the barn floor corner

Swimming waist deep in rainwater creeks formed in cement cracks flanked by sidewalk and backstairs

the four that lead up to the apartment complex where I gave myself to your hands

Dancing with angels on a poker chip in Atlantic City, wind blowing through your curls as the dealer rakes you in

Laughing all the way to Calvary as you swing on the rafters in St Andrew's Colosseum

while sopranos hit the high notes and the repentant sway in time

your chuckles trickle down and find me during hymn #89

"His Eye is On the Sparrow" but mine's on the door

I know you're on the other side hopscotching free the whole 12 blocks home

Sometimes waiting at red lights I see you bobbing one leg lifted, playing just because you can

Know I should be there, counting along, holding your hand but the tea leaves didn't read that way

And I am too scared to ask again.

to reshuffle the deck

roll the dice 'til our number's called

doesn't matter

lights green

and you're gone

Blacktop

4/20/11

Rain on the blacktop

rushes along asphalt

carving lines to match

the set on the face of the beggar keeping dry

under a bus stop shelter.

Spare some change?

Mine's all over my boots

holding out for the hope that something might move

soaked to the bone but remember

i felt her yesterday

just before waking up

avoid puddles as you walk back home

your too precious to be caked in mud

Fridge Poetry

10/??/08

Tighter

4/18/11

Black hair, dripping like ink

as it winds around your finger,

twirling tighter into a curl,

a flash of pink polish as its keeper spins around.

Tension mounting then release,

just to stat it up again with a new piece, on and on for hours.

A mesmerizing display of unconscious habit that I'm all too aware of,

feel my knees weaken at the thought of replacing your hand with mine.

Energy poured into acting comfortable,

when inside this wheel is upside down

and off its axle,

trying to handle the way you spin me right 'round.

Like that strand you twirl now.

Tighter and tighter.

Again and again.

Wrapped by your eyes,

again

tighter

tighter

again.

"Dreams"

1/3/10

Grassy fields, wet flowers,

overcast skies, warm winds,

crowded low-budget country fairs,

candy apples, moist soil, butterfly-in-stomach-kisses,

rolling in floral print dresses,

ivy on old field stone walls,

dilapidated farms, giddy love,

blinding happiness,

ponies in a field,

lazy afternoon naps on a blanket under the sky,

the sun never setting,

cold day on an abandoned beach,

sweet salt air, holding sandy hands,

picking baby names, laughing at the disagreement,

deep green, pale gray-blue, soft lavender, pink mist, icy gray.

"Dreams."

Crazy Eights

4/14/11

Please allow me to introduce myself,

I've got 52 parts, a deck of cards

filled to the brim with wit and charm.

Shuffle me up and let the games begin.

I'm a pro at playing, what ones do you know?

Gin Rummy (heavy handed with the rum)

or maybe Crazy Eights's?

Go fish (the hook brings you back),

Old Maid, Blackjack, or even Bridge (if you're in the mood for oldies).

Ahhh, you like Texas Hold 'em!

Put on your poker face

and reach for the sky,

ante up the bid and wait

with baited breath

while I flip the turn, the river-

I can make your palms sweat.

spirit soar, then break.

But the clubs are laying out all wrong,

diamonds hiding in the ruff,

spade and heart start looking the same....

and no, I don't feel much like poker today.

But bluffing sounds right...

How bout my other speciality,

one with wands and smog?

My mind reading can dazzle,

distract you with sparkles, then rabbits pulled from hats.

I'll guess what part of me you've got on your mind.

Magic tricks are a crowd favorite and you're a perfect pawn.

Please, more applause,

while I pull this card from my sleeve so fast you won't notice.

Thought it was meant to be, hocus pocus,

you fall on your knees awestruck at what's fated,

the future in your eyes, lies that I scripted out.

Sounds more like what we are looking for.

So come, lets start.

Open up my deck.

Pick a card, any card.

Let my magic trick begin,

let the dream descend.

Now close your eyes,

and concentrate.

Unstoppable Force

4/10/11

Nothings gonna change my world.

GOD I pray that's not true,

cuz this immovable object has been in my lungs

for so long that I've forgotten how to breathe,

face turning blue,

and I don't want to let go of hope

so please,

something,

somewhere inside of me,

MOVE.

Red Light, Green Light

4/10/11

Wrap me up

take this sheet

Egyptian cotton

600 thread count

smoky gray fibers

use it as a shroud

not forever

I just need rest

cocoon me in this room until

the world stops spinning so damn FAST

til I can see the tunnel's end again

the powers gone out in Wonderland

and a rabbit hole's a lonely place without the lights on

so please...

just for a week or so

smother me

in ebony and ivory

whittle a melody I can drown in

like only your hands can manage

make the pounding stop

the storm calm

I'm holding on

for green lights

highlighting the black silhouettes

but eventually

they gotta turn red

Will I awake when they do?

laugh that it's a dream

will the breaker get flipped

just in time for Sunday morning cartoons?

as the choir belts out the Hallelujah chorus

do fantasies like that come true?

I'm not ready to for a no

so please, wrap me up

let my eyes see just lids

just this once can i get

that sympathy I've been begging for

for YEARS

not forever just for now

please,

shut it all out

please,

take me away from here.

I'm barely breathing.

Untitled

4/9/11

FUCK OFF.

Take your smug grin and your talk of powder and go fuck off,

pour out your cement on somebody elses top

cuz I will NOT hit the ceiling on account of your black cross. So

GO

FUCK

OFF.