Saturday, January 28, 2012

Hidden


Hidden


Stolen rhododendrons in my hand—
the old imperfections of a heart at large.

I draw near my rope’s end shrunk to common size,
ignored in this tawdry harbor, hidden like a lizard

beaten by history’s hazardous lack of action.
Unlucky hero born in the province of the stuck record

where the most watchful tailors go jobless
and scissor cut their own patterns.  

Blameless children stand looking
at a field of horses, necks bent,

tails streaming against the green
backdrop of sycamores.

Wednesday, January 18, 2012

Rough


Rough


disaffection, 
do not look at my skin
nor touch my lips. 
The exterior that covers
my bones in revelation
needs to be moisturized
with truth.  What are you

seeing in my mirror
this morning?
The ease with which
you deal with your pretentions?

For I am your brother
corrected and already raised.
I have known you over
and over again
as I’ve lived throughout
this city.

Reseco


Reseco

Áspero desamor.
No mires  
mi piel ni toques
mis labios.  Estoy reseco
sin esperanza
de humectar la dermis
que me cubre. 

Monday, January 16, 2012

If It Ever Happens that a Candle Goes Out



If It Ever Happens that a Candle Goes Out

It’s never the same longing
that leads me into the dredges at the fishery.
It’s always something unclear, muddied
by what gathers around my eyes.
Something like a cuckoo calls the hours
like an old clock, only not the hours
that are essential.  I think I see the day
tossing back what it is shown.  But you cannot hope
backwards or in reverse.  Someone I love
has died, I am certain, but I cannot tell who.

Friday, January 13, 2012

Inventory


Inventory


the tyrannical empire
of the absurd  
the tears waiting
at the curve
the way you sheltered
my heart
the silence you dispensed
like a wall in the dark
lofts of desire
the mother that died
when you were a child

the kiss that rotted
on our lips
the beach inhabited
by worms
the bed flying
in a void
the avalanche of gods
and myths

everything given and taken
the shit we hopelessly dumped
on each other
the bread we shared
the caresses,
the weight of our
open hands

fifteen and empty


fifteen and empty


fried green tomatoes
unable to get past
the first two lines
broken in combat
the last thing
I’ll hear is me

Tuesday, January 10, 2012

Breaching the Discipline of Time


Breaching the Discipline of Time


Someone once said
I wasn’t born
for the thick prose
of hard labor,

insisted I was pure
and agile,
like the sea breeze,
a wave of fragrance

in the petal of a rose
breaching
the discipline of time.
Aren't we all?

Monday, January 09, 2012

In the Woods


In the Woods


We found each other in the woods.
His touch did not alarm me.
It provoked a soothing sensation 
as if I had been slightly salted.
Our cars were still running.  There were cats
everywhere, wild cats on the prowl 
wanting to mate.  We got out of the cars
to talk but soon enough we were touching
each other.  The silence was thick.
We allowed nature to watch.

Monday, January 02, 2012

Aubade



Aubade


I want us to watch
the dawn
while our faces turn
toward each other
and the clothes
we wear burn off
in the newborn light.

You said we should always
be brave.  I try to be
every morning over my toothbrush
and the waning stars.

I stare through your eyes,
your firm heart
beating peaceful rhythms

with determination
and a brush of bells. 

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