To the reader

Some thoughts, I cannot keep.

Friday, October 19, 2012

Imagining Her Insides

There is skin
and muscle and bone,
the walls that contain her
are most pleasing to the eye.

The lacy filigree of blood,
red swirling rococo
from her toes to her tongue.

Her heart, that mighty engine,
pulses like a fountain
in the courtyard of her ribcage.

Her brain is a maze,
I wander through the hedgerows
and pause to admire
a most beautiful thought.

As perfect as Versailles,
she turns to see her reflection,
and frowns.

Monday, October 15, 2012

heavenly creatures go home early

they fade like the moon
pale faces resting in death
such beautiful girls

elegant sadness
is the art of young ladies
who wish to vanish

and here I remain
ordinary but breathing
too ugly to die

Monday, October 8, 2012

we are ghosts

what remains of us?
words float away on radio waves,
circling your heart like a school of fish.

where do we go?
we are the final trick in the magic show,
you fold into a box as softly as a dove.

and when we love,
does it live on?

beyond the now,
the echoes sound
a million hearts
are beating out

and haunting
every living lover.

who lives in us?
I know the song your soul is singing
we are ghosts of a past, remembering.

what remains of us?

Thursday, September 27, 2012

I was your secret

Meet me
at the bottom of a still black lake,
that is where we still live in love.
You were always my night watch,
where light cannot touch,
you are still my breathing god.

we will never make,
silent and deathlike our masked faces,
I never forgot you. I return now to pledge
my fidelity to this bitter war we have waged.
I will drink your hate,

I remain a hole
where you pour your discontent.

They were always heavy,
the words we meant,
and I mean them still.
I am yours to take,
if you meet me at the bottom
of this still black lake.

Tuesday, September 25, 2012

The Liar

A great eagle is resting
on my shoulders,
his talons are tapping
at my collar bone,
his beak is plucking
at my brow.
He beats his wings
about my ears,
my head is pounding.
Heavy, he rustles,
his feathers tickle my cheek.
It is a great weight,
this majestic creature
on my shoulders.
I know he is bloody,
I see it in his claws.
He turns his head with mine,
as my gaze falls on you, love.
I carry a hunter,
and he will feast on your heart.

Thursday, September 13, 2012


I dread the stink of money.
When I find a pure thing, a perfect thing,
it is not long before it's delicate flavor
is ruined by money.

Many of my desires and fears smell of it. They equally reek.

How do I free myself from money?
In a world of so many empty mouths,
every crumb and drop has a price.

Death also reeks, and I would not have that either.
So I bathe in coins and smell of the world.

That comforting hope

Sailing over a broken sea,
with high flags flying.

I cannot bring the breeze
but I can let out the sails,

the winds of change are coming.

They always come, my love,
they always come.