Violent moments flicker like candles behind the breeze
struggle against extinguishment
legs and torso carve a downy hollow
somnambulent corpse scratching your name into the wall
forget nothing even in sleep.
This bed is not my own I dream
against extinguishment with my eyes
open.
Alchemist
I want to be that part of you that is not for sale
the thing you do for love
when you look at me, I will remember your dreams
touch me
I am the alchemy in your soul in the warmth of autumnspring
when leaves live or die on their own whims wrinkles and buds sprout new limbs you forget about anger and loss and want and the breeze forms your lips into smiles against their will this is where you shed protons drop what is unnecessary from your core and become new where tin turns to gold and the dancers in your orbit shine and burst and die, unstable and electrified you break out of yourself and radiate
you are a new discoverysomeone else's nobel prizetouch me
and become sacred
remember where you come from we'll build a shrine to no god in particular but the ones we had to invent to thank for our visions
when you look at me, I will remember your dreams I am
the thing you do for love I will not be
forgetfulfor salewhen you look at me
I will remember.
You, and the World
(December, 2007)
The longer we're together (I'm with you)
the harder it is to say goodbye
the lingering imprints of your hands
fingers (fingertips)
vibration lingers on my lips
Today a woman assassinated
Benazir Bhutto is dead
and I feel my vulnerable woman's parts
more than ever
what it is in me that longs for all things
that wants more of you than I can take (handle)
I feel how easily all is
corrupted
and the world
I am jolted from forced
back inside
into hiding perhaps in my
self or outside an exile
perhaps I
move slowly my heart
is (beats) ir
reg u larly perhaps a bubble
all things already
said in these moments uncertain wordless without courage
My stare steady silent perhaps
vacant but not blank
inside it's you only
I see feel phantom fingertips left
yesterday six months past september summer
there was power
hope -----inadequate-----magic half
conjurations a spell in my hand
an imperfect sister is dead
and I want
to live my power in the world
and you.
Sober
Dreamwalk through a world
you don't create this lifetime
your soul would rather forget:
do it over another day.
Do you dream in lucid color? Do you know
there are some things to stay
awake for? Conversations
to hold in memory like saved rainy day pennies,
pains that can be taken
bittersweetly with lemon-
puckered lips and onion water eyes.
Keep them open. I want to read
my story backwards someday from their clear reflection.
the thing you do for love