Saturday, January 31, 2009

he buried her in the sky

She's ripped herself in half.
The furniture weight above her holding her
to the floor and seeing the worlds through
the cheesecloth of the limping tea bags.

She has lost respect for her skin; it
has detached from her organs and those
that make us bleed.

She is bleeding now from all the pores.
Its dripping out slowly through the
cracked skin flaking in the nail beds.

Raspberry leaves in their hot water. And
she will drink all of him in her cup and
saucer; they talk without sound and his
corpsy flesh cocooning her heart and lungs is
sweating out the generosity.

Sunday, January 25, 2009

a symphony

I wear my grandmothers' rings. And to
each, a significance. The gems are missing,
I find them stuck in the iris of your eyes. 
Glittering there, I try to take them and realize that
the extraction dulls them. The breaking
of a tiny thing, it stings your fingertips as it snaps

(the most romantic bit of pain). 

I look for you when I sleep; letting it fully settle 
upon me, soaking
in the denseness of you. Violin choirs when I hear
you breathing, like we're both ascending into
separate heavens. 

Saturday, January 17, 2009


My skin is screaming for you to stop.  
Like Indian rugburn, a strawberry,
a charlie-horse. 
I am lacerated again by your love. 
The skies were lavender today. And you
were four in my mind and me; the
murdered. Lying there, wasted for your words. 
Take me back! Take me home!
Abbreviated thought spots. Fragmented worlds/
pieced together lives and all the while you're
sitting in a pile of your own- gathered beneath the boards; 

Friday, January 16, 2009

I tremble electric

I care not for the playground nature of your eyes. But I am comfortable with your arms on my swelling stomach, you are mostly silent and when you sleep you twitch your arms, hot bricks beneath us. I am your last year encased in flesh, split ends with human eyes looking out through nothing. Color, grab a hold of me again; take me down into your early mornings and coffee'd brunches with folded fabric napkins and star colored plates. I belong there in the pinks. Wake up sweetly. Pink hands, dry corners. But I thought the morning had come, unhinged in the doorjamb, it is erased and I'll take to the grave just the way it feels now. Let go by your eyes that keep getting lost in beds. Please give me that when you wake up lonely. Let me into your waters, I want not these harden goods. 

Wednesday, January 14, 2009

Clair de lune

hang low in the sky the moments before
they meet. toes cold for chasing her and wet
cheek bones; they'll find nourishment here.


it is more like he has lost his own heart;
and ripped from him before he noticed
it beating; left on the concrete sidewalk
of her.

or better still. 

she has ran and sat in thorn bushes
before convincing herself, swaying
is the only possible motion. 

but then.


Sunday, January 11, 2009


everyday i become more disentangled from you. 
ive untwisted the plastic from the loaf again; and
the warmth of 
your skin against mine, the smell of your collar
bones and the steam from the shower after your
baths. our teal room of rest and yellow guest. 
purple for dining and magenta; the office. 
Dusk walks. 
i am fallen with the way your eyes see the world. almond
shaped and innocent there from behind the lens and
out into the lighted scene. 

Tuesday, January 6, 2009

Please Blot Me

Let me speak of salvation. 
                        Half tethered
amongst your coats' pile in the corner. 

Mine is there.
Yellowish against the black of the wall 
and your eyes shining through to melt 
my arms outstretched. 

There is something bleeding;
from the joints they type I love you.
I love you.
I love you;
away from yet inside the seam.

(I am weeping your fluid)

Monday, January 5, 2009


A misrepresented footsie underneath 
the shared table at our first dinner 
after the fact. 
Chin turned downward; 
and to look through eyes 
and one strand of fluffy hair caught in your eyelashes. 
This is what it feels like to be used up, the last
Bit of oil in the bottom of the bottle, barely 
I search for empty eyes through the gray light 
of the early morning. They find me there, 
naked with my body twisted and pinned between
your sleeping body and the cold wall. You rest
Silently upon the puff of your mattress. The quilt
rested down, but didn't cover your feet;

my darling, darling.

Thursday, January 1, 2009

so fragile their interaction.

i am an indescribable shade of clear, flaking
away really, mica on the playground sand. 

have i made you love her more. 

a final reprieve against disappearance. 

color in my face by number. 
two's for red. four's are yellow. 
perhaps, five's, then- purple. 
the collage of hue combining now to form an image. 
unascertainable, to others; clear to those of us involved. 
he loves her between each pause. for each breath. and 
underneath all they cannot see.