I thought I was alone

Lost beneath the jasmine tree
In the orchard, I stand
Memories of lips, hands
Upwards into blossoms
Pieces of perfection
Detach and float gently
Aimless wanderers in the ocean
Formed of air, togetherness

Young Bodies

Does no one even realize?

I lay in bed
Night time
Afternoon
Mid day
Morning

Thinking of young bodies
Tightness of skin, muscles
Pinkness of flesh, lips
Roundness of hips, breasts

In the Days Following the Incident

I stopped dreaming -
and the mold grew there.

Thick and viscous,
More fluid than plant

Tough to fight off
That protective layer
Of age, warmth, greyness.

Before Her Tattoo

I thought it was a good picture of
You
So I put it up on the
Wall
Started to peel at the edges after
Years of my roving eyes finding it

Tiny acid holes from dirty fingers
and the curl of heat and time
Faded colors now, blurred lines
But it is still a picture of
You
Still on my
Wall

That Photo from that Nirvana Album

When I wanted to be a poet
I wrote everyday
Until in the Beauty of Life,
I began to drown

How cold are the waters of Truth
Like a baby you search hands first
Gasping only the void

Balancing the Blue States

In my Regret
I find the Truth there,
Yes, It took me this long,
but I know you now

In my Sorrow
I find the Peace there,
Yes, I am still searching,
but I know you now

In my Thought,
I find the Beauty there,
Yes, It can be fleeting,
but I know you now

So Many Things Behind Me

Thump a beat drum
Magic tightness of flesh
Across empty space

Lamplight Reflections

There is so much beauty in the world
And it hurts to breathe
There is rejection coated in anger
Aren't these things - Emotions
Wonderful?

Oh, last night I was so upset
And then I remembered the beauty
of fear
Self doubt
The splendor of denial and
The crank in my brain that spins - Overanalyze.

So instead I sat and began to laugh
How foolish is this
I don't love you
and yet I deny you the pleasure of not loving myself?
I am so ready to kiss any lips - Requited?
I move first, before the brain.

There is too much beauty in this world
When you say this - No.
Oh, if only I was not so proud
Not so beautiful
And the oil in the fire continues to burn

The Real Lake Bed Interviews

In January I broke the ice
and interviewed a lake bed
This consisted of much talk
Mingled with little action
Almost like talking to the
Tall tree named Silos that stands
In defiance of the wind

I held a conversation with your mother
She said nothing coherent
But smoked through the two inch hole in her throat
It took five cigarettes to fill
She was a willing subject to my many
Inquiries

I questioned a doll made of half-burned paper
Smelling of old tires and lipstick
She was a He and during our conversation
One eye rolled out
and into a pile of Ketchup
I kindly licked and picked
It up

I queried a squirrel in early March
He was quite upset about the long winter
and refused to share his last nut
Squirrels are not very generous, I later wrote.

I cross examined myself
(Early on the morning following the squirrel query)
In front of the Mirror
This is the way I become the interviewee
It also satisfies my appetite more when I can see myself
Eating.