unbound

Not like other women
In the quiet of emptiness
My black and white
He can see
In full color

Dulled wooden pencils
Drag my legs in length
Reposed torso between
The curve of hips and breasts
Stretched arms reach the sky

Charcoal drawn
On dusted paper
Blown through lips
Of one complex man
Examining every stroke

Watching with passioned eyes
Bringing me about
His fingers brush over me
Spreading color to flesh
And heat to my paper skin

Weaving layers into conscience
His breath finds me
Fills me with wildness
Rising from bound sheets
To find him back
.
.
.

too late

I give up on love
Swallowing it whole
A hot stone
Burning soft as it goes down

My too late words
Squirm in stunted currents
Stolen oceans
Steamed dry by sun

My too late love
With nowhere to go
Buries the mud
With the weight of the world

All the words I have
Ineffectively
Fall to surface
I love you too

pages of nothing

Dozens of starts
Definitely no middles
And no ends

He is the fiction to my distant reality
Clamoring for air buried
Under the magnets of my desire

He stands next to me
I can smell him
He smells clean
Like he just stepped from the shower

He smells like bubble gum
Spearamint or cinnamon
Popping and snapping

He smells like leather and rust
Every breath I inhale imparts essence of this man

Tornados of butterflies tumble in my stomach and my knees weaken
Popping and snapping

We pass each other
Buried in the noise surrounding us
We don't speak
Smiling at each other

He flashes his huge white grin
The kind of grin that should have the flash and ping of a toothpaste commercial
The kind of grin that makes women swoon
The kind of grin
That makes me look to the ground for fear that my face will give away my undefined feelings

When he looks at me
He holds me in his sight
I fall under his spell
Patient and expressive eyes
Twinkle and sparkle

Brown
Like puppy dog eyes or chocolate
When he looks at me
I can only look back
There's a stunning magic in those eyes
Twinkle and sparkle

I can't imagine how he can see me as anything but weird
He'll ask me a question
Make a pleasant comment
My only reply is a jumbled assortment of letters
A nervous mish mash of sentence fragments

On a good day I'll say,
"...what?"

As he repeats himself
I'll use the time to form a complete thought
I try to speak intelligently
Hoping my cheeks won't get red

In the back of my mind
Careless thoughts
How do I look
What are my hands doing
I'll think about the direction my hair has retreated
If I have smudges on my face
Or if I have any bits of lunch in my teeth

I watch words slip from between his lips
His eyes move from my eyes to what he's talking about
I look at his chin and his ear when he looks away

Just a split second

I look at the shortness of his dirty blonde hair
Resting on the back of his neck

His well cast forearm moves in front of him
Orchestrated by his calloused hand
Muscular fingers pointing and gesturing
Complimenting his every word

His strides are graceful
Floating as he walks
Owning the room he's in
Letting his presence flow through it
Flow through doors and windows
Flow through me

Engaging and gregarious
Encouraging and inspiring
Helpful and open
He must snack on magnets because I'm drawn to him
Drawn to this untouchable being

So I write
And I write
Pages and pages of nothing

silenced me

I take back
All the words
I ever said
Scraping them up
Torn-nailed fingers
Rake the black dirt
Scooping all
The syllables
In cupped hands
Contrasting colors
Like refrigerator magnets
Shoving each letter
Back in my mouth
Stretched
Red cheeks
Eyes winced with pain
Filled to capacity
All the awkward insults
Backhanded compliments
Gushing flattery
Manipulative mockery
Swallowed whole
Struggled gulps
Back down
From where they came
I never know
What I mean
Anyway
.
.
.

roux

My Joy of Cooking
Cookbook
Does not apply
To my life

Sauteed onions
In chicken stew
Future plans
Missing ingredients

Simmering for hours
In years I'm tender
And steeped
Life-filled in thyme

Peppered in thought
Stoking the fire inside
This roux
Will rise to the top

my muse is mortal

Eves of change
Uselessly holding on
What's come to pass

Grasping rings of smoke
Tucking them in empty jars
Left from canning


I feel, wanting to feel more
Visceral manifestation
Buried, buried within me

Shelved glass cages
Averting their eyes from mine
Hovering ghosts float like fish

I know what I want, nothing I thought
My artless frustration
Slow, incompetent venturing

The winter/spring preserves
Hopefully still fresh then
Unsealed at three days death

My unreturned is worse
His map is laid
Mine is a thousand thoughts

Spooned stale smoke
Over sleepy congenial flesh
Melted by un-attached words

My muse is mortal
I want to wrap him in my sheets
Lick his wounds to peace

The complicated I am
Defies convention of wrong
Restless change defines my unfulfilled want
.
.
.

mileposts

Recalled memories

Past events

That never happened

Milestones like mileposts

White metal tags

Counting down black numbers

Of my importance

That me who was

Someone else

Dying a thousand times

To create this now

claddagh

Our unmade bed
Tossled sheets
Of checkered red
Clouded decisions
And a family-less clan

Thoughts of you
Crash against his whispers
Vestiges of my weakness
Echo your name
In the tangle of wet

Flesh and tongues
marry need and want
Clasped hands
Squeeze love
To dust and diamonds

My leg over warm thighs
Breast to belly
His crowned heart
Pulses in my ear
Breathless sunrise

Our reflection of blue
His search is over
For me
This passion
It's only just begun

expat

Dark cave covered
Self-created recluse
Feeling around
Cold wet walls
Of how I'm supposed to be

Ridges of skin
Collect moisture
From pre-timed stone
Merging with history
That's not mine

Longing from myself
Expatriate to
Lands of sand winds
Swelling red seas
Of foudroyant hunger

Touch my shadowed skin
Protected from nothing
Wanting the everything
Quivering hesitation and
Uncontrolled ravishment

Peel back layers
My tightened mind
Flayed to pieces
Inside and out
Craving humanity's being

Dreams of escape
Relentless mediocrity
A pick-axed ditch
Dug deeper by the day
Choking on boulders

This cave a tunnel
I stumble in dark
Reaching for pinpoints of light
Always farther away
I am unwillingly stuck in time

chloe

Watching
The death of you
Weeks wasting
To nothing
From pills and sick
Life robbed
Freedom stole
Nose to nose
With ruined awareness
My best friend
Lost
Every day worse
Than before
As you lie in wait
We never knew
What took you
I still see you
Protecting
In dreams of life
Protected
Three years now
I still miss you

this poem

This sadness
Overwhelming darkness
Without a name

Reasonless tick in
Colorless air
Horizontal numbing

Aimless dance with death
Exchanged glances like lovers
Warm skin to cold

My caustic mindscape
Pours corrosive dreams
Behind bloodshot eyes

Closed off from
Worldly things
This poem is endless

i can't swim with real writers

For seasons of me
Cyclical reasons
Lying face up
To the sun
Cloud-clad against
Polished wood

Boat floated
Over vast, open seas
Lost with rogue waves
And unsettled sediment (sentiment)
Alone with wind
No land in sight

My only people fish
Fingers brush the water
Inviting the apex
To taste my helplessness
Mermaid pod teased
In spirals to the earth

Nighted moon
Laughs at me
Each reflected white-cap
A giggle of silent proportions
Times millions
In inescapable waters

Burning sun stares
Turn pale skin red to blister
With each pass
I shrivel in the shadows
To nothing
Feckless verbal self defense

Over the weathered side
Seeing myself
Knowing I'm fooled
Inability drips from my sweated hair
Tangling with seaweed
My words drown with me

name untitled

And if we give nothing a name
Will it not exist
Existance is futile

The naming of things
Is the only reflection
We have

We are all
Just atoms
Or Adams



*in response to "In The Name Of..." By Brian Carlin @ http://theprimate.wordpress.com/2010/08/16/in-the-name-of/

my bubble

Sick of looking at myself

From the inside out

Same old sameness

Quaking under my skin

Rattling this clear sphere

Like the girl in a bubble

Wanting new venues

Wanting to see myself

From the outside in

With different sky

Different earth

Different stories

Different skin

Wanting the newness

Of the world yet traveled

comfortable words

The house that words built
From foundation buried
To sky-bound roof

Sharp-barbed, stinging
Tongue twisters
Shrouded in laughter

What is meant
The meanings
Of words not said

Strategy disguised as Love
Grand manipulation
To win the cold war

Endless cycles
Saying the same thing
For generations

Laughing off black and blue
To good old boys
Wearing gold and blue

Paired off and repaired
Bred to consumption
Medicated satisfaction

Socially acceptable
Mental illness defined
Bestowed by guardians

This structure and form
Described and scribed
In deafening detail

Until the house crumbles
Severed from its lexicon
Of idiom and poor locution

sun

I saw the sun today
It rose above sleepy coastal fog
Into blue sky without clouds

Through redwood skyscrapers
Light danced with chickadees
As they swooped about the low branches

Cool breezes drifted in the window
Lost friends not felt for months
Brushing my cheek before teasing the cat's ear

The sun smiled at me with swelling golden light
Inspiring a flourish of hope
In this otherwise tedious black hole

for now

Half tree
Wind swept
Reaching south
She lost her leaves
Rain pushes and pushes
Stunted
She migrates

Tiny forest
On the other side of trees
Birds pick at upturned insects
Butterflies stick in sap
Puddles of mud fill the mines
Suffocating air
Drowning the prints of paws

Strange fossils
Bubble up
Shaded and hugged
By bleeding and bare branches
Scratched by sharp thorns
Humans left
With slashing machetes

Half tree
Never was whole
Reach past her history
To collect the sun
Saving the moon
Different days on the other side
Sleepless lights for now

dissecting the it

I Wrap my head around
What just happened
Like a python
Around it's prey

It doesn't have a name
Just appearing from mist
Or a shape
Twisting to a stop

I squeeze the air out of it
Peeling it apart
Layer by delicate layer
To see what its made of

A tropical fruit
Skinned with thick and thin
Through its meat
Fertile black seeds

Where does it start
Buried in the sand
How did it end
Washed by the sea

Looking a lot like the moon
Its craters opening now
Spinning black holes
Consumed every ounce of me

My lungs fill
With the smell of it
Low-tide salt air
Blows through my memories

Memories of a space
Never closed
But tied with hands holding
Keys to the mysteries of aloneness

Its turning cogs
In a coppered clockwork
Tick with the slow time
Of stop motion

Each piece of it a rough surface
With smooth underneath
The complicated beauty
Of rendered skin

Closer to the center
Burns the fire of an endless match
The air I squeezed out
Sucks the flame with it

A thin red string
Braided with carbon fiber
Waits for breath of easy ignition
Never to be ignited

The thought of ...never
Putting it back together
Is too dark to think
It crushes the sun

I willingly put it aside
In a drawer next to my bed
With all my other quiet treasures
Waiting for reincarnation

what you gave me: for the him of me

You gave me
Confidence
Bottled up and
Placed on the
Back shelf for decades
I am beautiful

You gave me
Laughter
Shattered
By life and all the
Serious things
Invading my skin

You gave me
Light
When I didn't even
Know it was dark
Like the full moon
Peering in at midnight

You gave me
Words
Of love and lust
And all the nice
Things I forgot how to write about
They soaked in venom for so long

You gave me
My emotions
A Pandora's box
Of confusion and chaos
Your patience guided me
To find stability

You gave me
Back my six senses
Buried in dust
And ash
I'm reconnecting
With what is me

I can only give you
Gratitude
And a special place
In my heart
Where my debt to you
Can never be repaid

no one in or out

Missing steps
Like missing notes
And missing children
The potential
Of new things
Bathed in light

Terribly lost

Gathered my senses
Placing them in small boxes
With their pictures
Displayed on the side
Data and graphs tell the story
And tamper-proof seals

Mistakenly lost

My own growth
From rubble and dust
Van Gogh visits in dreams
And I cut off my ears
Never to twist with words again
I hear nothing

Lost at sea

My skin is swollen with wet
White tissue blurs
No penetration of thought
In this drowning skin
Nothing gets out
No one gets in

Finding lost

The music is in my head
On repeat and repeated
Trying to put each note away
With the letters and sentences
That imply so much more
My loss is my grace

strip

I don't
Have the
Energy
Nor the
Inclination
To wave
The flies
From
My face
They lick
Tears
From my
Eyes
Bloated
Crusted
From
Sleep free
Rest
And a
Food free
Diet
My continental
Drift
Has drifted
Too far
Through
The cracks
Wiggley worms
Eat clean
My death
I double over
In the
Stabbing
Pain of
This life
All the
Care free
Villagers
Wander past
And I
Return
To dust

every moment special

Every moment special
A translucent soap bubble
Bathed in the circus colors
Of small l.e.d.s
Floating into a warm sober euphoria

A spider crawls across my white ceiling
He speeds past the seam
Running from his webbed home
Stops for a breath
Or, to reconsider

Distracted by the clink of melting ice
Water grows in the glass next to the bed
My dark milieu in the chill of home
Sinking feeling isn't just a feeling
I've already melted

Freeing thoughts of cessation gnaw at bones
Serrated edges back and forth
Leaving dust and marrow
Blood and skin to stain white bed sheets
This is not the death of me

But my disappearance from existence
No end from no beginning
An infinite circle of me without blue windows
Scurrying across a white ceiling
And never looking back, maybe

Suffocating in wrapped plastic
The bubble of my own making
Pin pricks of red and orange
And blue and green feed me
Into unconsciousness

The darkness of left turns and nice words
Pulling my lungs tighter into submission
Every day a fight with the ghosts
And monsters that dance on my grave
And I dance with them

Swinging from rafters
A hairless monkey with rope for a neck
I watch me creak the splitting wood
In a rhythmic rotation
Back and forth

Intoxicated by uppers and downers
Brought on by whatever you say
Each letter carefully placed
And taken away as I writhe
With the red bars staring from across the room

Heather's eschatology
Written centuries ago on her pasted skin
By the people who knew her best
In fine red now faded to brown
"Her suffering is her reward"

Yet every moment special
The bubble and the monkey
The ice and the spider that get my attention
Without vision
I am the sallow demon that stares at me when I close my eyes

memories are the rub

The slow unraveling
I can feel each piece
Come undone
Tiny squares break away
The result of my own doing

My secret life
Held together with wire and string
Withered to naught in time
Days of lost tracking
Counted numbers from a whole

As I stack my blocks
Back into me
I remember all the words said
And feelings felt
And my flood roars again

little box of music

A din of low notes
Written in one language
Of hearts
And read in another

The meanings tumble about
In a head of wishes
And dwindling hopes

If I could write
I could put it right
A melody of math
And refrain
Solid numbers and nuances
Would glide across the page
With facts and appropriate figures

If I could put two sentences together
I could touch piano keys
And ukelele strings
Two at a time

To tell you everything

Telling you I'm free from love

But lonely of embrace

Like a loud Johnny Cash song
Echoing in an empty metal factory
With a concrete foundation

If I could communicate
I would touch your shoulder
My lips to your ear
Softly whispering the reason I exist
For you
In the private silence of a serenade

Kissing your lips and face
Gliding across your chest
Holding your waist
Wrapping your legs with mine

Tasted skin
Wasted in my dreams
To the song of No
Or Know
But not now
Maybe never
Or...

Still riding the sound
Of your voice that lives in my head
When we don't speak
I hear you tell me
Of the you that you tell me
In poetic words written for other concertos

I don't know why
The chorus of your soul
Dances with the angsty cry of mine

I don't know why
Your words have come so close
Maybe

It's just me
In a music box
Spinning in an endless circle
Locked away
A plastic sojourner
Remaining for the opening

Open me up
See your reflection