'history' (october 2009)

under the weight of binary code
I can feel your presence
my secret
made known
in the smell of wood smoke
stinging the wet winter air

and each portal is a portent
I can see my history briefly paused at
and reified
in the clutch of symbols and syntax

under the weight of your arms
I can feel your presence
our secret
made known
in whispers and stirrings
straining the sheets and pillows

and each sigh is a symphony
I can feel my history lifting
and evaporating
in the clutch of your hands and eyes

'gravity' (september 2009)

She held her breath
She held her breath of course
I heard her breathe
I heard her breathe of course

The sun is shining
The waves are crashing on the shore
Shadows moving
And I can't leave her anymore

The sun is crashing
The waves are shining on the shore
Tidelines moving
And I won't leave her anymore

I held her hand
I held her hand of course
She held my hand
She held my hand of course

My voice whispers
To her eyes shining peacefully
Fingers folding
Fall into gravity

Her voice is shining
Her eyes whisper perfectly
Timelines folding
Bend into gravity

I held her breath
I held her breath of course
She held my breath
She held my breath of course

'envisionist' (september 2009)

she could choose the music
just. so.
perfect for the times
he wished to possess her heart

he could listen to the rustle
the hiss of history
as words drift up from the past
and he would desire to form
her actions and recations
propositions and responses
and construct in his mind
the scenes he never could know

the order, perfect
catering to his fears or hopes
(but tending to the former)
he craftily allows
lips, skin and sex
to writhe up from the shadows
of a time he never knew

while autobiographical
he seethes and scorns
imagines and nightmares
and fails to put to lines
in broad-flailing fashion
the yearning
of his far-specific heart

'return to desire' (september 2009)

I want to see
feel
what it is
to be the movement and trembling
that falls down to a page
to be the repayment of a debt
and the promise of more

your liquor
a fire that burns to be poured out
is all I want to claim and seal
strip back
peel away
though always looking at the outside of things

I want to tell you
everything
I want to sense
that my name is somehow
embossed in clay
written on the wind
seared into your skin

I want to drink deep your thoughts
I want to swallow your mind
memory and body
heart and soul
the atomic tick-tock of everything
that your heart has ever known

through my eye
your curves and body
collapse to two-dimensions
and your lines on the screen
fall into shapeless place

't-minus' (july 2009)

These words falling to the page
arrange
themselves
in an impolite way.
These sighs marking off the days
display
themselves
in a frightening way.

And I don't know if what I feel
is a ghost or something that's real.
And I don't know if what you say
will follow me when I'm away.

These times ticking on the face
replace
the times
I could just be alone.
These words creaking in my throat
devote
themselves
to praising your ghost.

And I don't know if what I feel
is a ghost or something that's real.
And I don't know if what you say
will follow me when I'm away.

These waves crashing on the shore
implore
that you
will forget my name.
These words burning in my ears
all fear
that you
are wishing the same.

'falling for a ghost' - (july 2009)

I don't want to leave
I don't want to stay
I don't want to wake up
just being in your way

I'm paper thin
resting on this glass
whittling away
the checkers of the past
crying for your skin
falling through your eyes
not remembering
the truth or the lies

you're lying (I don't want to leave)
you know (I don't want to go)
I'm dying (I don't want to leave)
hello (no I don't want to go)
to say hello

I start to wonder
when you're not around
if I'm the only person
who thinks that the sound
of an ambulance rushing
to take me away
is the prettiest thing
that I could hear today

I'm dying (I don't want to leave)
you know (I don't want to go)
you're falling (I don't want to leave)
I hope (no I don't want to go)
for a ghost

I'm wishing I was there
like the rain on your cheek
a memory spared
though we'll never speak
you might think of me
when you wipe me from your face
fall into his arms
I'm erased, erased

you're forgetting (I don't want to leave)
I know (I don't want to go)
you're letting (I don't want to leave)
I hope (no I don't want to go)
me go

'georgia' - (december 2008)

I went to the shoreline
and planted my foot in the sea
waiting to witness
how my toes would turn to roots
in the salt water
and my outstretched hand
would blur into a canopy

but the breakers on rock-shores-
the rounding of pebbles and stones-
spoke to me
like a whisper of bark
falling from arbutus trees
saying I have no place
among the land-makers
among their rock-breaking waves

but roots deepen, ensnare
and the rustle of feet
across new-minted sand
says that the waves
are just as untested,
unwelcome,
here on the shoreline
the in-between land
of their advances, retreats

in my ebb from the shore
back to the land-ocean
the sea laughs
at my notions of equivalence
as I retreat to the line
of less adventurous pines
the greedy waves suck away
at all hints of my passage
desperate
in keeping their no-man's-land
while
the crack of rock-sand
keeps us both at bay