A Love Letter to Self
Sometimes I am
an empty barn
Still warm
from the cattle sent to slaughter
like embarrassed eyes
averting the homeless man
prostrate on the street corner
like the open mouth
of people
watching the aftermath
of a car wreck
maybe it’s because
I have difficulty breathing
at the thought
of running into people I know
at convenience stores
maybe it’s all those murdered memories
bodies chalked on my synapses
calling to be crucified
maybe it’s because I got stuck
to the roofing tar of your cathedrals
or that I can’t cater to
the cause of your existence
the scope of your being
gives me agoraphobia sometimes
I feel comfortable
cramped in the corners
of my doubts
pinned to the walls
by the needles at my fingertips
I tried to dissect my skin
to show you that I can still bleed
all that did
was make a mess
and kept your curtains closed
I’ve since sewed those sutures
learning to love
the bottom of my lungs
from watching the trees
dance in the wind
I still sometimes sink
to the bottom
of those old blood pools
I left in the wells of why
I now know blood when I see it
And I know
that it merely precedes a scar
tattooing itself to remind me
that those marks are as much us
as those gleams
in the corners of our iris
that cry wonder
at the wailing awe of our ocean
that pick up the leaves
in the wake of our dancing
that stretch arms out
to the lengths of our latitudes
that scream
at the clouds
whisper
to the termites
sigh
to the bark
shout
to the critters in their cathedrals
the mountains in their barns
the gods in their shacks
and the nothings in our heavens
perfect
all perfect
Restless Nights
My eyes don’t rest
On sleepless nights
Fixed on the filament's
Residual glow
The weight of
Misgivings and misdoings,
Concrete and conjured
The future sewing
Its endless lists
On synapses
Fish hooks slipping into
A hazy stupor
Machine gun thought process
Tripping land-mine memories
A handshake gone wrong
A misplaced frown
A stuttered utterance
An averted eye
A missed hello
Again
To Make a Wish is to Say Yes to Maybe
I wish
to peel off the layers
that don’t fit
between my rib cage
They rise above
the night pooled sweat
hanging flaccidly and impotent
To examine my bones
for calluses made for the callous
asking why they left
rocks in my throat
I wish to help my hands
loosen the grip on my anxious,
help my jawbones
unhinge my worries
To shrug off the weight of my no’s
to give loft to my maybes
I wish to take the shoes
off my uncertainty,
dance with the streetlight
on warm summer nights
To laugh the tops off the mountains
of my misunderstandings,
boom echoes in the valleys
of my furrowed brows
I wish to love my lungs enough
to exhale
an eternal yes
to the gates guarded
by my cant’s
To find my whys answer
within its own utterance
I wish to be an astronaut
to plug my umbilical
into the planet’s rotation
I wish to feel my fire vibrate
with the deep hum of purpose,
build bonfires in my belly
I am stuck here
like you
Waiting for my want
So
let’s fill each other’s cup
and decide together
who we want to be
Whispers in the Deathless Dust
Whispers
In the deathless dust
Tell stories
Of the atoms forged
In the center of a dying star
Of the laughing abyss
Dancing
To the drum beat
Of the outer universe
Stories
Of every boot
Laid prostrate
In the mud,
At home in the earth
Stories
Of first kisses
And silent tears
Of fractured molars
And hunched shoulders
Nights spent
Seeking meaning
In plaster ceilings
Whispers that pass
Into the nothingness
Unheard
Content in their utterance
Shattered Nerves
A car wreck
broken safety glass
still intact
cracked concrete
under rubber soles
takes a heavy seat
in the corner
watching
shoulder movements
under desk light
under moon light
under street lamp
in cardboard boxes
in rain
in the blood of bit lips
tips of stiletto heals
on cobblestone
on brick-way
moss growing
on back alley walls
it flows
with gutter runoff
oil-slick freeways
tires spin in unwanted direction
the glass waits patiently
in the panic of a pile-up