may on 2 and 9 (2006)

another day older
but we'll count it by years
leave myself in places
i cannot use my hands
sun far too bright
for day dreams
the world in one ear
ignored it
because there are noises
of vastly greater import
in the other.

haggled proper.

just simple and slowly drawn out
have to grasp these vestiges
to keep close feelings
when you stretch achilles last stand
before he settles in
and approaches twilight
and the rest of the things
more important
then history.

eventuals.

sit on hands
wait like martyrs
til time folds in half
sets free the ballasts tanks
and float.

the wolf

feels like promises you made yourself
when you still remembered how to dream.
the strength to pick you up,
a picture of hope to share,
these eyes stare.
(i'll steal that breath)
have always been here,
arranging things and waiting.
(because some things are right)
your fantasies awaited
since you did your forgetting,
along with the laughter
you used to hold dearly.

(fantasy no more)
(existence beautiful)
(should have always been)
(somethings are deserved.)

puzzle #1

a note on giving up:
freedom is a choking hand.
broken backs,
bracing for earthquakes,
don't stand up.

---

halfway up the tower of babel,
i laugh.
high on uncomfort, not on reason.
like insecurity evolved beyond explanation.
things that never happened.

The Butler.

your corduroy all tarnished
there is more to this world
then the roof of your eyelids
what you said you did
the life you tried to live
before you woke up

this empassioned hemisphere
this dimension-
love and fear
both good reasons
to keep good hearts near
lest you forget
(grins and fingers wrapped around)
(moments you could taste the sound)

life is what is made.

my art

there is no limit here
no boundries of chord progressions
or kadence fenced in
no chorus
or plotted path in which to swim.
just the silence filled
with contorted reasons
for believing
this could be something.

for the mute.

he finally decided
to cut off his tongue
keep his blood blue
no more breathing
leave the loved one
sleeping.
no need for symbols
for them to decipher
just fanblades all razor sharp
for the arms trying to hold him.

quattro.

if you don't mind the smell
the rancor of this slow death
i'd not mind one bit
if you stayed here
til the sun sets on me.

homecoming.

luggage ignored
by the arms once used to carry
which have found other things
less inanimate
in which to entwine their strength.

faces seal the distance
a floating mister
a floating mistress
who will not stop
despite the tourists.

tall tales

you could have expired the sun
worn out it's gasses and moved on
but you laid down your guns
and walked away as if you'd won.

taller tales

then reasoned the epiphany
of prometheus' struggling
filled his heart with bumble bees
and finally quit pushing.

smiles in the dark.

the crippled lover

and there is burden in this
i awoke from that nightmare
feet numb and eyes sore
hoping that none of it was true
that i'd never share this burden with you.

i had legs
but needed chairs to wheel
and help to wield
a smile.
i'd rather be atlas
and struggle beneath it
then have disappointment
that the young man
turned old and decrepit.

(but i still knew)
(whilst i clawed through)
(illusions and dismay)
(that you made me float)
(and i didn't need legs)

reflections of disymmetry.

there is a mirror (there's a monster)
in the corner (in my closet)
shows me my flaws (with big meaty jaws)
pristeen and all (the teeth are shining)
happy. (in the dark)

[these scars i aquired]
[long before i'd seen your eyes]
[have almost expired]
[in mine]

venus of melos

i saw that the marble of the statue
was slightly flawed
from erosive wind and transport
and realised it's perfection
even through this corrosion.
decided to take it home
and keep it in my presence
just in case it started to move.

the truth stands on short legs.

if i could see your eyes
i think for that moment
you'd question your ability
to wait for even a second
to see mine again.

just open arms. no needless atrophy

you cannot curl up next to
your imagination
can you?
because i often find
when the rest of my world
turns silent
i can close my eyes
and find that i'm not alone.

you cannot go home, again
can you?
because i often find
when i'm lost in this mess
that i already am.

begging lines.

four hours later
came out smiling
a champion of grinning
and wondered
if he'd won
why his heart was still racing.

broad delusions.

ventured outside this place
and found you'd followed me
to that elsewhere
to write me messages
i might never get
but i found the bottle
pulled the cork out
and smiled as i read.