Tuesday, May 10, 2016


Sometimes a kick lights me up.
A flash bulb in the nerves.

Sometimes my body jolts from 
this being alone.

This freedom from you 
can make the hairs on my arms salute.


Sometimes, it crackles. 
I'm sorry, darling.  It's only sometimes. 

Like today on that ferry boat.
Leaned hard against the helm. 
I was captain of the ship. 
The ocean parted. 

I felt kissable. 

But we aren't made to like alone.

Stranded on shore with birds.

Seeing faces in clouds.

Hearing voices in trees. 

Who wants to sleep alone?

Who wants to kiss one's own hand?

Not I.

Not even sometimes.

Don't argue with me

All the tears in China won't bring him back, 

all the oxlips in the dell 
can shed their blooms but
nothing can be done, 
We have no authority only 
dreams and drives 
pushing up from nothing 
and all begin to wither right away. 

Yes. Wither from the very start--
don't argue with me.

This long death starts with the first exhale.

Reincarnation never happens. 

Earthly things brought him to his knees. 
He was always drowsy after that; 
complained only once. 

It was when we saw the oxlip.

My low key guy of boyish wit 
who never hit a thing except piano keys, 
cried when he saw the color he will leave behind.

I saw a ray of light blaze from 
both his eyes the night he died 
and it was borne away with him
and his reincarnation keeps 
never coming.