doctor please

i've tried everything.

ridiculous really

if i pulled out the lists and lists

the encyclopedias and dictionaries

of how i have tried

of how i've pushed

of how i've...

how i've failed

to keep you out

to stay safe and solid and secure

i've used those chain locks

the ones they wrap in rubber

as if to make them softer

less of an attack

on public trust and truth and decency

i've hung the padlocks

with the spinning wheels

secret codes and combinations

to keep mysteries and possibilities

encrypted in this crypt

wore necklaces and rings

with sharp edges and careless points

so doublesided and cruel

keeping pain as the last tool

between me and between you

ive done what i could

dug trenches

build walls

created ironsided safes

and locked myself inside

i've asked hard questions

thrown sharp fears

used words like weapons

flint edged spears

and oh how i've tried 

to keep these forces apart

someone told me once 

the only cure for love

was a broken heart.

skip rope.

i saw girls dancing once

back and forth from one foot

to another quick as breathing

and i was like how pretty

how sentimental and sweet

those childhood dances

from when all you had to avoid

were cracks in the sidewalk

how simple how sweet

those moments of innocence

i wandered back one day

one of those days when it seems

the thunderclouds are the only thing

holding the sky together

and saw the same girls 

taller now

with shorter hair

sharp layers that say

i've cut myself free

from those braided ropes

that held me down and still

but they were dancing still

feet flying up and over

while around their ankles 

the round green bamboo

clattered and smashed

as rythmic as water falling

loud like thunder

as they held the dance

and the smiles

with their feet as fast as silver

keeping themselves half a step

ahead of the collision

i walked away 

keeping my feet high

and remembering

that if you remember to dance

the jaws will miss you

more often than not.

paradise Lost.

-hello sir and pardon me

but i seem to have gotten lost

on my way

my way to paradise-

she had big brown eyes

the kind you see in children books

looking from the face 

of the secret princess 

the one that temporarily 

works in a shop

but is not a shopgirl

and was holding a map

as tall as she was

with sketches from michelangelo

scraps of eliot and cummings

and a diagram of the human heart

in blue and red

scattered across its tattered surface

beside notes that said things like

"don't forget the milk"

and "out late be home by morning".

she had a pen stuck determinedly 

behind her ear like a small pennant

the battle colours that would not be allowed

to fall to fail

and long brown hair

twisted and tied in braids and ribbons

looking like a stream

that was frozen over in a quick winter

life caught still 

for a moment

like this moment 

where she stood on the sidewalk

with her small feet

in brown shoes that you never see sold

but always on the feet 

of the not quite poor

as if they grew there 

or were left by some politician

with a sense of 'what is right' in storybooks

and calls it character

she stood there on the nondescript day

that the weatherman had described as 'partial'

and mumbled off into insecurity

in her brown shoes with her brown eyes

and her map

the map to paradise

while the man broke stride a second

and tossed a copper coin

towards her toes 

like an appeasement to Fortune

that She would continue to bless him

and keep him from 

brown shoes

and girls who have dreams

accidental arrows

I don't know what to do

she said

and maybe it was a fact

or a story

or something in a book somewhere

she could have heard on the radio

in a wandering song

or watched it fall from the redlined lips

of a famous star decked in sparkle

but she said it with a little shrug

that was totally and deliciously hers

and it undid him

left him tumbling head first down

over concrete stairs and brick walls

up the strands of ivy below her window

around glass doors and along the edges of sidewalk

that let him be by her side

he was a man of bone and sinew

and his sister would claim 

that his heart was solely concerned

with the careful distribution of blood

cautiously. neither in want nor surplus

thats what she would swear

but then she didn't recognize him

that midnight meeting

when with hair disheveled and hands deep in pockets

he whirled past her in a storm of lovers woe

and she walked on with the strange feeling

that that was a man she knew

or had met once

perhaps in a store 

or at a show somewhere

and he did not see her at all

but wandered on in a haze of names and faces

when only one was carved into his consciousness 

and that small little curve of her shoulders

that he could find in Grand Central Station

without a second thought

and on and on in a blur of moments

while she went on her way

with that delightful delicious shrug of the shoulders

and a pearly toothed smile

The world could have watched in wonder

had it not been spinning

from the delicate force 

of a small lift of shoulders 

and a smile that shook the stars

purpose?

im standing here in the sunlight

with my bright cardboard sign

sparkle tipped pens 

have drizzled all over it

leaving designs  that jump

out at you and over you

like liquid rainbows 

bouncing between the passerbys

i'm here standing with my welcome sign

waiting for godot. 

breakdown.

have you ever felt the edges of your being

shake so against each other

that the only thing holding you together

was the fact that the fibers kept colliding

and snapping and coiling

about each other

like desperate strands of magnets 

around the only thing that gives them motion

until at last they are frozen

stuck to the cold iron

like a bitter statue

and so i am here

a frozen masterpiece of horror

wondering from whence oblivion will fall

and peace creep through my veins

like poison.

lost dreamers

question: have you ever seen

those silver gossamer umbrellas

that drift on summer winds

carefully bearing a swollen burden

that slopes to a point at the end

 angled toward the ground

ready to piece at whatever point the wind

drops them down? 

have you ever seen them?

answer: i do not know what i have seen

these summer days and summer nights

when the sun was one long firework

and the stars were lost fireflies

that drifted on the faded out clouds

but once i saw two lovers walk

into a river along the sticky edges of mud

and they never came up not even the golden edges of her hair

tell me if you can what this means?

question: what are two open ended trails to me

pairs of footprints that disappear

mean to me only that gravity is working still

what to me these tangled little webs

of words and blinking and strands of hair

when the careful teetering tottering seeds

of a new generation are braving the winds

the future on the whimsical wind

with their gossamer thread balloons

answer: what are they to you

i do not know but in my mind perhaps

they are the same one and one alike

the fragile strings that tie us together

to dangle us drifting in the careless wind

of fate and fiction and friction 

and the two lovers walking

and your seeds blowing into the beyond

and who you are and i

all this world between us

so i'm off to wander the sticky mud banks

watching for gossamer nets and golden hair

learning what they are to me.

Saltwater Puzzle

i never understood

the beauty of a pearl

layer upon layer

of mucus

spread and encrusted

in warped patterns

that neither reflect or collect

the light

but only partially store it

leaving the rest as a waste

to sit in lazy puddles

around this spat up gob

of hardened excrement

i do not understand 

the awe and weight

that seeps into their eyes

as it rolls around their hand

its sticky edges

pulling their fingers to curl around it

teaching them to cling to it

to slide paper and coin and magnetic strips

through the metallic mouths 

of other's secret hiding places

so as to keep the patterned drop

of expelled filth 

tight in their sweaty palms 

i do not understand it

and perhaps never will

what is precious in a pearl

you might as well say 

that pain creates beauty.

orient.

so welcome home

to this new brightedged place

with strong colours

and a still neat desk

welcome to this new world

of sliding cards

and magnetic strips of entrance

that light up your access

and define you as 'belong'

welcome to these people

with the same fears as you

and different pasts

with long black shadows

and busy bright smiles

who all seem to know where they are going

you too will learn this

and will wander without being lost

will wave at the campus 

and know it well

welcome to home

it is what you make it.

time.zoned

im going to wave over tte international date line and tell you that im doing fine and maybe now lying isnt a crime because its all in the broken edges of time so its me and the sea and the seal of hot wax that caught me like taxes in this foreign accent and im trapped and alone with a fingerlike bone that can shake and can break but never remake a quiver or quail cause it never was there and im going to stand here and wave as if someone would save this sinking ship with a headlining trip from the cradle to crypt and im alright just taking my shift as long as the wind doesnt ask me to life my head cause im dead in this moment of time as im looking and crossing that foreign date line im weaving and leaving and coming undone and the only thing thats hanging is the weight of the sunits falling and calling and tearing me down and the horizon keeps dipping and spinning around and im fine and im fine and a liar that too but if comes down to that then what else are you

caught

i'd like to tell you
what im thinking
sketch it out for you
with black ink
in quick short lines
naploean drawing a battleplan
i'd like to tell you north is north
and south is south
this is love
straight from the mouth
of the horse
but i've got nothing
so clearcut so defined
in fact im afraid
that i can't find
the words to even say
that i do not understand
there we go.
i do not understand
but thats nothing
meaningless
and honestly
i must confess
the problem is not ignorance
but niether is it indifference
its merely overwhelmed
in shades of sanctity
there are many things i know
there are many things i dont
and at the moment.
im merely trying to stay afloat
so if you ask me what im thinking
dont expect a quick reply
because with every answer
there comes a heavy why
so im gonna just keep sitting here thinking
and sinking

in a world of battleplans
i am picasso short on paint.

futility of a guilty conscience.

forget it. who needs to sleep? i'll just type these up. and because im feeling a little guilty ill throw in some old ones too. (hopefully not too boring...)

starcrossed lovers

store bought bones
makeshift souls
after all these reparis
you are still alone?
plastic and silicon
titanium and steel
kryptonic skin
that cannot peel
O you
masterpeice of the modern age
Michaelangelo's David
jettisoned into space
in your unbreakable cage
i am the disembodied voice
the echo in this air
your faraway observer
who notes that life
is still not fair
after all of this
you are still alone?

i stand in my unbreakable cage
watching you drift away

Author's Note

i have material on my laptop which regrettably refuses to connect here. look for an update in a week. as life is going to go 'snowglobe' on me. ciao till then.

How are you today?

what to say

when you are neither in an oasis or a desert

but perhaps simply waiting

for the next bag to open

and swallow whats left of your cloth covered lives

and maybe i am a puppet made of poles

to be caused to breath and move

with the adding and padding of clothing

and that would be all.

so i will shuffle all these props

the eyepopping prints

and the silent silks that slide back into the shadow

crushe them into these luggage peices

and shuffle off on these peg legs

hoping i can fit them back together

someday.

i regret my inability to write today.

shrug.

Swingset Epiphany

i climbed on as a child

with small slick fingers

gripping the metal chain 

and toe-tips just grazing

the dusty layers of ground 

that held my size 4 footprints

the wide wooden seat

was like a shelf

the type my mother hid 

candied pills on so i couldnt reach

but there i was

firmly planted on it and braced

to battle gravity

and with a stretching of my fragile legs

i pounded my way down the worn runway

and exploded into the air

with only the creaking chains

to keep me linked in some small way

to the faraway earth

that blurred beneath me while the air

whipped around me

pushing and pulling and screaming and roaring

its own windy song around me

and i was hurtling forward and upward

just on the edge of breaking the boundary

between today and tomorrow

when with a resounding snap

gravity pulled on my delicate self 

and swept me back down through the dust

in a squealing free fall that left all the breath 

in my tissue thick lungs

scattered across the universe

as i sped down back to land

but the sky had a hold on me too

yanking me back up

in a smooth practiced grip

as if i was the end result of years of practice

that i was a battle it was intent to win

and i was soaring again

letting glee whip around me

while victory and freedom and fear

collided in my crayola coloured brain

and escaped thrumming through my tongue

as i reached for words i didnt know 

to explain this wrenching joy

until earth claimed me back again

and i was sucked towards the solid vortex

of something like reality

and fought to rise again

i was only a child

when i learned what love felt like

Celebrate. Sam.

celebrate with me

come world

with your screamers of colours

your flecked star visions

and your secrets

that you pour into these multicoloured pouches

making them swell and tug

pulling for wide stretches of sky

to find some larger freedom

like we all are

come world

celebrate with me

the small treasures of a warm hand

in the dark of fear

and the reminder that laughter

still exists in this vacuum

join with me! remember-

nights of sorrow

and mornings of joy

the lists of favorite words

explored with all the flavors

of the tang and tinge of the world

the colours that come with shadows

and the explosions that come with light

come world celebrate with me

the turning of the days

and the ones that are to come.

come world

celebrate with me.

Breaking Down.

you and i together

are like pianos colliding

with shaking splintering frames

and wires that bend and snap

striking chords

that ring through the air

with some of the weight of beauty

and click and slide together

our careful ivory keys

sliding together

grinding and grating

and edging together against each other

with my smoothness on yours

and then

all these notes erupting in discord

like shredded edges of sound

exploding in twanging wires

and then

we are nothing but a stack of shattered firewood

with tightly wrapped brass

that coils and snaps

and melts slowly

into broken coils

that are dull and ugly

like the edges of you and me

the last stages of a collision

shadow love

i wish you could know me

by my shadow

in my shadow

i am tall and slender

placed cleanly within these lines

a smooth unbroken being

instead of this chaos of scattered edge

broken curves

noise and fear

and colour and dark

and these random words

that fall careless from my tongue

and tangle me in blushes

me in real life

with all my clumsiness

and stumbling

weak knees and fluttery hands

i wish you could know me

by my shadow

all cleancut and smooth

perfect and graceful

simple and comprehensible

i wish you knew me by a shadow

but then again

its hard to hold hands

with the lack of light

mausoleum museum

i went to see art today. and somehow instead it saw me. it pulled me into it with its sharp dark cityscapes and its bending gulping sky. i saw the sky swirling down into the city like a vortex both pulled and pulling and the briske slanted lines of the buildings sloping up to reach and pierce it and also sliding into meaningless dark. i saw a crowd of lovers wrapped in layers of cloth and shadow huddle together on park benchess and understood somewhere deep in me why it was called Solitude. - recognized my face in the lonely watcher who bent himself against a tree trunk as though maybe sacrifice would cure it. i saw strange boxes nest next to words that told the story of a girl who was (she really was) beautiful and i did not see the fitting but stood and strove to for minutes and centuries and still it nags at my mind. i read thoughts on love and eternity and without meaning to fell into the dark charcoal beside it. and was wrapped and warped in it till neither time nor love were- but simply are. and perhaps i am still there. i went in to see art. in the midst of the well lit graveyard that sat behind glass with clinical etiphaphs to mark their passing. thos things were sharp shining. dull and rounded. and dead. they lay pinned and frozzen in silicon tombs while casual clumsy toed wanderers place their faces against the light and brush the ghosts away. but they saw me. the ghosts and the art. they saw me together. and maybe now i am one of them.

feels like letting loose

this sun that creeps and crawls

over all of these surfaces

an invading force 

with the touch of death and life

twisted ito a pointed edge

that pricks my skin

and leaves it red and sore

too cowardly to draw blood

but only pull it to the surface

and then leave it tainted in my veins

and i am just another surface

to be taken over

let loose 

through this attack

and i am an elemental force

reaching out and pushing

this air around me like small bombs

sending it spiraling 

into the shadows and speckles 

and then leaving it alone.

wrinkle-creams and consciences

i am a temporary moment

a space upon the clock

before the lines rearrange themselves

into red dotted lines

which are the present

if you sign here

and sell your soul away

of if you want

-the sea witch adds-

i'll simply take your voice

in collateral

till later when you collapse

under the interest rates

and then i'll claim your future as my own

i'll pour it into 

this glass

which balances within itself

an upside-down pyramid

on this slender stem

and there you will slosh about

a semi-clear liquid

with just a bit of a kick

that rises from those bitter dreams

and someday when you are old

and fully soured

and withh all the sharp edges of life

to render you mature

she will drink you down

and smack her lips

and wipe them clean

with the smallest white handkerchief you've ever seen

and the girl sitting there with her hopes and dreams

across from her 

will think she's so much more elegant than she seems

and you will try to scream

till remembering

that that voice was the first thing

to go to go to go

and i am just the second hand

passing unheeded

an unknowing accomplice

second by second

secondhand to Time.

Ancient Wisdom.

The limit to your abilities 

is where you place it. 

Hope is the most precious 

treasure to a person.

There will be many surprises

unexpected gains are likely.

courtesy of fortune cookie.

to the one i would have loved.

i found you in a flower

today

it was red and gold

explosively lovely

growing in my path

as if it belonged there

i stood there

caught

as if my eyes were 

weighing down my feet

while i drunk in the colours

and knelt suddenly

in the dirt

that was clumped and moist

clinging to me

in small black threads

as if to tie me to itself

and the flower grew more gorgeous yet

with small white lines

that raced from the deep golden center

to splay at the tips

like a ray of light

that frays as it begins to touch eternity

and that golden center

so closely hidden

by the outer abundance 

of colour and flair

fluctuated gently in the wind

so gently

it looked like a heart beating

i reached out my hand

to touch

or pluck

i knew not which

and could do neither

with the heaviness of beauty upon me

so knelt frozen for a while

along the path

till with a wrench i understood

stroked a fingertip along the petals

sacred soft

and stood

loath to leave but knowing

that these deep dirt stains

and this stained glass image

is all that i may take with me

i stepped of the pat

finding another and following it

till the redgold sunset haunted me

and i slept

dreaming of you

and saying goodbye

without you knowing 

what you had told me

i found you today

in a flower

and left you to bloom

for the one you belong to

sundays

i am quiet today

thoughtful

but even my thoughts are quiet

like mall summer clouds

that drift along

in the way that they began

instead of the lightning stuffed storms

that usually plague my mind

i have put everything

on a gentle mute

so that the sounds are fuzzy

and do not reach me here

like the humming of a plane

to an ant

nothing of importance

and so i drift

in my dress of white and blue

that settles around me

like a cocoon of cotton

looking like a small piece of sky

against the green grass.

mortal immortal

i tried to stare down a tree 

today

it was dark

and slightly moist

the air was that is

the tree was tall

with sharp green spikes

instead of leaves

and smelt of make-believe christmas

i caught it frozen

in the headlights

and stared 

and it stared back

and i was all

rounded edges and motion and noise

the grinding sounds of breathing

and a catch in the back of my throat

it was tall and straigt and sharp

coated with strings of light

and buried in a slope of shadow

and still.

so very still.

i felt as though

its stillness attacked me

pinned me in

drew me caught me and repelled me

in its lack of motion

and so i stared

with fidgeting feet

and the rage of impermability

against this spear of the earth

that struck and was unmoving.

was unmoved

i tried to stare down a tree

tonight

but my moment shrank away

in the facets of its impervious face

and i swung the wheel far to the right

and went on

shaking and cutting swaths of light

through the quiet night

doctors visit

i write

innoculations i

constant reports of heartbreaks

in the melded language

of artist with inkstains

and a officer who's seen it all before

bitter and jaded

and still looking for 

that perfect angle

the way to capture this moment

in the lighting 

the consonants 

the jagged edges of letters

and i take these down

swallowing the pills and panic

the pathos and pain

line by line

step by step

thinking that in a year's time or two

i can take on the disease

in its rampant form

watch it roiling across my skin

through my veins

erupting within my cardiac muscles

and tearing my mind to shreds

and laugh

because ive seen it all. written it all.

down before

down and out.

and i can throw this out

throw it off

stand up and fight these broken hearts

because i've taken my shots

my pills and my potions

and i can beat these wrenching emotions.

if only i could combat

falling in love

how far from home.

they spoke carefuly

like the positioning of feet

under the table

cautious not to touch

lest it trigger embarrassment

or worse

the inconvenience of having

to dredge up an 'I'm sorry'

and pull it into the air

waving like a soiled dishrag

that once meant surrender

and now was only another subtle

call to war

and so they talk

about the flowers that they drive past

but not the houses

because she loved their old apartment

and he is weary of these memories

they discuss the street names

but only the ones

that do not sound like names

because of the small stone cross

the counselor insisted they put up

as a part of 'the grieving process'

that she does not talk about

but that he still wakes up thinking

how many months till june

and then realizes that it is long past

and the silence is still unbroken

by any noise

except that sometiems when he wakes

he realizes her pillow is wet

and that the breaths on that side

are ragged at the edges

like something. (like sound) was pulled away

and she no longer can call for comfort

and he thinks about stretching his hand out

but then she comments on his driving

and he squeezes the steering  wheel two handed

to keep from responding to the thrown bait

so she subsides

and watches the windows slip past

and does not realize that she has put them

inside every one

in every little window with bright curtains

and a swing outside on a tree

until they pull into the driveway

and he does not say 'we are home'

but 'I think this is it.'

and so they go in

to wish long life and joy

to the happy couple