Friday, September 30, 2011

guest check

we were stale-
like the soulless,
that snuck into heaven

               so i raised my hand
               and called for the check

               it was time to go

time to untie the knots-

           replacing heart
           with brittle,
           brittle hands
                     and head
                     not found.

           a serrated speech
           about reflective surfaces,
                           shrugging and
                           short of breath

savagely lacerated
by tongue-in-cheek
and teeth,
              -and quickly-

Sunday, September 11, 2011


when we awoke
the rush to save each moment
before we passed them
through the doors
out into the streets
was deafening.

abrasive upon our tongue
and shaky at our lips

now, away
where memory slips,
turn sharply into thoughts-
collapse and colorful adjectives
discarded clothing.

i pull the leaves from the sill.
i smell your skin
lingering like the last gasp of dusk.

Sunday, September 4, 2011

chess board

in a space
wholly between two steeples,
          the words tumbled
          across the surface
                leaving empty patches
                of corrosion,
                as well as conformity.

          picking the seconds
          -discriminatingly- off the clock,
          the air around our heads
          turns yellow and folds into our mouths
                   with the fervid abruptness
                   of a breath-
                         hitched and lacking.

the stumbling of footsteps
slaughtering synchronization at the stairs
       carry with them
       -so fluently-
       the clarity of a shell,
            the need for a noose,
                 the scent of a corpse,
                     and the weight
                     of forgiving.

primary colors


what is it?

when i close my eyes
(that i should see your face?)
if i should seek your shade
(that i might find myself...

i stop forgetting
at the point that i lost
the most grateful of things
and began to remember
where we stood

-a pirouetting sunrise-

and bowed to no one-
but nonetheless,
found more solace
on our knees
than there are cracks
in the foundation

(it's good to see
you're holding up).



so many
things to say.

. . .

only so many
to include



the sun sets
on shrapnel

a piece
(if fitted)
a friend
(when appropriate)
and only just big enough
to take the "i'm"
from "immortal",
and place it fittingly
and appropriately
with and of