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.

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.

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

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.

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 Adventurer

I am your adventurer,
eager to explore
the hot springs,
cool creeks, and
windswept fields
of your skin.
Dips and ridges
of your ribs
become my guide;
peaks and valleys
of your spine—
my wilderness.
At the pools
of your lips,
I am nourished
and refreshed.

I am your adventurer
shaped to mark
causes and
their affects.
With my head
on your heartbeat
and my fingers
along your neck,
I trace a path, and
see to my work.

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.

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.

Alpha Omega

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

Jigsaw

the walls you build
fail to conceal
the sweetness of your soul.
A sideways spirit
with haunted eyes
besieged by Almost Forevers
and Firelight Lovers.

Strings of paper doll darlings
one size fits all
won’t pale the horrors
fill the hunger
or patch together
your shattered heart

winter was fierce
so lets spend summer
patiently picking through
the scattered colors
starting at the corners
tracing the borders
piecing together
our puzzled hearts.

To Tame a Predator

Love him-
like an exotic animal.
Respect his power;
Keep him well fed.
…read more

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.