Red-tailed Comet

Loving the
colorfully
complex man
(read: quietly
tortured man
)
is akin to
beholding the
magnificence of
a hummingbird:
Vibrating grace.
Beauty obscured.
Breath suspended.
Gone.

Proteus

A snarling beast
with sharp white teeth—
fangs—foaming at your heels.
He will consume you.

A ranting tyrant
relentlessly cruel,
ruthlessly cold.
He will sink you.

A deviant devil
devouring clouds, and
howling at the moon.
He will drown you.

A bear, A brute,
a writhing,
seething sea.
He will break you…

at least,
he will try to.

Here. Now.

Here. Now.
In the shade
of mountains
I hide away—
bathing in silence
washing in peace.

Here. Now.
Ancient sapience
drifts in the wind,
the present
vanishes
the second
it begins.

Here. Now.
Primal advisors
urge I practice
the love of
letting go;
I understand
this to begin
with you.

Here.
Now.

Kintsugi

wiping tears
from her eyes
he softly describes
a Japanese legacy:
broken pottery
pieced and placed
back together by
silver and gold;
transforming the
hopelessly damaged,
the utterly shattered,
into lovely
lasting artifacts.

wiping tears
from her eyes
he quietly confides,
“Darling, I adore
your broken
little pieces;
my love is gold,
and my esteem-
the silver-
to fill all
your fissures,
fractures, and
cracks.”

Feral Heart

Somewhere between
the great canyon
and the cacti
he confessed
he could not love her.

Somewhere between
the prickly pear
and a crumbling earth
Her shaky voice replied,
“I’ll be just fine.”

Now she is wild
like the desert,
feral as a
coyote’s cry;
knowing there’s
little distinction
between the
plight of hunger
and the fight
of heart.

Kept Woman

He liked her best
meticulously type set
splayed out
across the page;
she was vulnerable
this way.
Blushing with inflection,
coquettish pitch,
seductively pouting
her lips with
innuendo and play.

She liked to
toe the line of
scarlet maiden,
cotton candy tease,
setting expectation
with cadence & rhyme
then unexpectedly
opening  w   i   d   e
with pause and
penetration.

He loved her this way:
proofread and polished
spread out on display,
beckoning exploration
and the brazen gaze.

Knowing they wanted
her sighs for them
he leaned back
with his tell-tale grin–
the kind that creases
at the corners of
knowing eyes–
acutely correct
in his conviction…

she was
undressing
for him.

This is not the fairytale you're looking for.

You’ll want
to blame her;
but don’t.
She’s not the
antagonist here.
Just a misguided girl
who fell for a
shadow, a
projection cast
in a cave.

She was his first kill,
I mean–love;
the thrill he chases
but just cant quite
ever again fill.

The villain here
is a man
who looks into
her eyes and only
sees a grave.
A man who knows
his life begins
on the other side
of flames.
He feels its pulse;
tastes the salt
on his tongue,
but just
won’t
go.

In this daily
ACT of inaction
he betrays her
and kills himself.

unrequited

Meticulously I consider
the placement of
these fragile, little letters
precariously perched
upon delicate,
slightly unsteady serifs.

Diligently deliberating
the most effective
configuration–
the most capable
combination–to convey
this quiver in my bones,
this shudder in my lungs,
the sound of a heart breaking.

Picking through the
shattered pieces,
these tiny fragments
of mine, i find
a comma shaped splinter.
Perhaps it belongs here
,
a tiny pause,
a shallow breath,
a metaphor for
you.

Possibly it better serves
lingering like an apostrophe,
an indication of possession,
manifestation of a merging,
which,
we are not.

On second thought,
how does one
effectually punctuate
absence of affection,
the reticence in rejection,
unrequited love?

Yes, of course,
the self-effacing ellipsis
soundlessly signifying:
lack of substance…
the weight of hanging space…
and words I’ll never say

Tiger Teeth

Complacent
creature of
comfort–
you lack courage.
This is why you
stay.
Fearing teeth in the
tiger of “unknown”,
convinced his bite
holds more terror
than this hell
you know.

Of Men and Moons

Only a sliver
is visible tonight,
the balance
cloaked in shadow
and dark truth.
Yet I tell you,
you’re lovely this way:
clad in contradiction,
draped in shade;
a lucent slice
tracing clouds
in silver ice.

The Lost Boy

Her absolute
inability to keep
her hands
to herself;
that, he reflected,
marked the moment:
the sudden death
of his affection.

Now his hands
are everyone’s—
and no one’s.

He absolutely
embodies
her indiscretions;
wounding in fashion,
matching with precision
the patterns
of his scars.

This is his un-doing:
his choosing to remain
the lost boy.

Pretty Little Tragedies

The way clouds
pile together
to mighty pillars
bracing the sky,
then vanish
with a shift in wind.

The connections made
in complex webs
intertwined over time,
torn away at every end
with a simple
swipe of hand.

How you,
my favorite may be,
in the second of a snap
image fixed to a lens
aperture and opportunity sealed,
became a never will be.

Satellites

You are only
constant in your
changing.
Your waxing,
waning, and
inevitable fading.
But, you return;
open faced
and bright,
drowning stars
setting fire
to night.

You and I,
we hang in space
tethered
by some
invisible thing.
Our orbiting bodies
draw ever near,
your surface swells,
my seas surge.
I’m your perilune.
You’re my perigee.
And in this proximity
we bring a simple
sort of symmetry
to the vast
black
of nothing.

Yes, this is
eternal.
Yes, this is
fleeting.
We are only
constant in our
wavering.

Truth and Consequence.

His eyes
were the kind
you saw your
death in.
Lips of
oleander
laced in
nectar
to disguise
the devil’s
kiss.

To hell with
consequence.

The Lonely Harvest

We are
walking wounds,
seeping sores of
loss and
lamentation.
A swollen
sickly people
plowing into
one another
tearing at
the soil,
uprooting,
spreading seed,
for a slippery
second,
a breath…
of relief.

We bury
turmoil
in bodies.

Perpetually
planting
an incessant
harvest of
loneliness…
that madness,
of the sad.

We are
walking wounds
covered
crown to boot
in battle armor.
Fighting for life—
to the death.
A warring tribe
clashing bodies, yet
terrified
to touch
a soul.

Deep Divers

Diving deep
into hyperbole,
mouths
string words
into phrases,
tongues
embellish
with emphasis
and pause.

We call this
connection.

Diving deep
into beds;
flesh upon flesh,
muscles flex
and stretch
into motion.

We call this
connection.

We are out of—
and so far from—
depth.
These are
the shallows;
the tip
of ego,
the surface
of lies.
Scratch as we try,
our nails only go
skin
deep.

This is not
connection.

Sea and Stone

I am the stone—
rock steady.

              You are the current—
              perpetually in motion.

I am the shore,
folding and flexing
beneath your weight.

              You are the swells,
              rip tides and
              rogue waves.

I am the earth
you shape and
carve away.

              You are the tide
              leaving with the promise
              to return.

I am the land
you crash upon.

              You are the breeze
              that takes me away.

sip of heaven, bottle of hell

At first taste he
slips down easy;
subtle sweetness,
flash of flavor,
warm buttery finish.

each drop thereafter
a touch more
of the dragon.
flash of teeth,
tongue of fire.

hot flames creep
from the belly
to the cheeks;
flash of fury,
burning char.

He’s all devil now;
seven heads,
seven crowns,
a drunkard…
and my love.

God Maker

memory
intertwined
with fantasy,
so
entirely,
so
intricately,
that lines
blurred,
and colors
bled.
out of this
tangled
tapestry
men
were lost
and
gods
emerged.

The Buffet

She left a bitter taste;
a tongue stained
in disappointment.
Now he only dines
at the buffet;
filling his plate
with hot flesh,
meaty cuts,
lean legs,
oiled skin.
Spoonfuls of red,
or brunette,
on the side.
Dips his fingers
into chocolate,
white cakes,
strawberry pie.
Thickens his heart,
feeds his eyes, yet
disregards the hunger.
For nothing here fills.
Nothing sustains.

It Begins & Ends with Her

He only exists
beneath the plane
of her fingertips,
below the trail
of her parted lips.
All else is vapor.
All else is mist.

Desert Darling

You’ll know her by
her wild heart;
Hair
Tangled as the land;
Lips
Ripen pink
with the prickly pear;
Curves
Rock
like an upright bass.

Her sun-baked skin
painted
with desert dust;
Brown
For those long passed;
Red
For bloody heartbreak;
White
A warriors perseverance.

You’ll know her by
her insatiable thirst;
Eyes
Pierce the cactus;
Hands
Calloused by the climb;
Feet
Blistered by the journey;

A wild heart
ba-bum
who
beats
ba-bum
with the desert.

Grace & the Ephemeral Embrace

“Keep your feet on the ground my child”
“Impossible”, I say. “I live in the stars.”

Midnight dips in the milky way
bathing in ancient light.
I’ve felt Draco’s fire,
I’ve loosened Orion’s belt.

I can’t know its significance,
its measure or its weight.
Yet atoms split
particles crash and a
universe expands nonetheless.

“Be cautious with your heart my child”
“impossible”, I say. “I wear them on my sleeve.”

A believer. A mystic –
in the oldest form of alchemy.
Rudimentary chemistry and
paradigm shift.

I can’t know its significance,
its measure or its weight
yet electrons vibrate,
elements attract, and
matter is shaped.

“Keep yourself guarded my child.”
“impossible”, I say, “to ever be prepared.”

A moment is upon us
then gone in a breath.
That ephemeral embrace
leaves its mark, nonetheless.

I can’t know its significance
its measure or its weight
Call it chance, or call it fate
either way –
I stretch to brush the skirts of grace.