Wednesday, September 12, 2007

just a girl

faith comes
hard on the heels
of distance

and she
is just a girl
after all
with a little
heart sore

and a thirst
for more


to this moment

In all my life never
did I want, allow need
yet at that first gaze
I would have you.

You, the final catalyst
to break my core/soul,
spark the fire aglow
throw my vows to hell,
to my becoming;

bright eyes and wild
you gasped like a child
in wonder at my mouth
devouring
and I high

on the thrill of finally being
desired
wanted
wanton
free.
Funny how the years
pass and I recall...

you, my lover once
upon a time that led me
to this moment
and to another.



September 7, 2007 - Friday


soured on a life


my husband
remember how we dreamt
dreams
of the land and the sea

no purpose save to live

those dreams
come again
on the tips of a tongue
soured on a life
that would break me

if I were not so

goddamn ornery
and hell-bent



September 6, 2007 - Thursday


look upon bright


fleet of foot
and slight of mind

oh flee thee
never-boy of summer
take this heart
a weary

to the shore
and cast it's ash

to wind;
breathe my bones
let them lodge
in lung, dust

forgive my need
come to me

ever is the silence
frightening
on the morrow
deafening

do I ponder
yet look upon bright


journeyman

this life, oh
it been a long time
coming

and I will walk the valleys
and I will tread the shore
and I will swim the rivers

in search of
transcendence
Valhalla
ever more
ever more…


once we were young

once we were young
my sister
brother
and I

before drugs
before death
divorce and dreams
torn asunder

yet never were there bonds
strong enough
to keep us alive
to ever see us healthy
in the care of one another;

what great expense
life and soul

and how very long
it takes to mend



September 4, 2007 - Tuesday


manna from God


Gonna be one of those years

when food is made for the week
and tea bags get used twice

when chicory instead of coffee
is relished as frivolity
consumed as a food group

and breakfast is a fist full
of vitamins and cheap carbs.

These are lean days in Texas
in the south, in America
when getting by on a dime
is our most frequent dream

and our debt, manna from God.



some things don’t get said aloud

some things
don't get
said aloud

don't get
articulated

are never

written down

but they
are in my heart

on my mind

on my conscience



August 30, 2007 - Thursday


on my writing


sometimes they are not words with meanings, only the syllabic utterance of a string sounds, an affectation of the heart



August 30, 2007 - Thursday


love song for t.c...breathless


crazy-wet
for a boy the taste
of freedom made of lightness
and deep caress that blushes
her bright smooth peach
and leaves her
breathless



August 21, 2007 - Tuesday


i am consumed


I reach for stars
fill my days with it
seek to devour dreams
to exhaustion - okay
that, my friends, beer;
but I hope you know
you are my everything,
you are my love, my
passion, the swelling
of my heart midst
blushed twilight.



August 19, 2007 - Sunday


to know me is to always


I walked the hall one time
about the rooms pacing
head hung low, tilting back
and forth , hand on nape;

love and grief it creeps
through cracks it seeps
and I am far away oft

to the future where I will
never hurt you, the past
where he pleads for life.

My love for you reminds
me of my grief for him;
neither will I ever let go,
both, my life have altered.

To know me is to always
let me hold him, grief
a glistening in my heart
and joy for you ever
on the tip of my tongue.



August 17, 2007 - Friday


but as such, he is free


The old guy asleep in the grass?

I thought about dignity and
how the world once was
what we've become; I cried
not quite mighty, more
in the way of suadade; things
mourned though never realized.

Vagabond he may be,
but as such, he is free.

It rained later that night
brief but fierce.

I wondered if I should
walk the bank, scout the creek

but much like mother and
her fading away
do I really want to know?



August 16, 2007 - Thursday


what we’ve become


There's an old guy asleep in the grass

and I am at once both afraid and ashamed;
my sense of security weighing hard
against concern and charity.

I question my decision to move here.

My decision and yet to admit
I am not infallible, never claimed to be.

My strength and sense of responsibility
derived more from the need to persevere
than any sense of leadership; I cry,

not from lack of knowing what to do
but more for this day and age
that places me in this dilemma

I return to a time and place
when I was barely four and wept
perhaps some seed from past living;
wept for the downfall of man

though I had not words then
now perhaps I can finally claim
I cry for what we've become.

Strange that I was reading Rumi today,

"People of the world don't look
at themselves, and so
they blame one another."

I blame no one, I just cry,
not sure what to do.



July 25, 2007 - Wednesday


shameless my lust for you


this morn I dressed
with care; black lace
under a black dress
I had pulled from the back
of barely worn things
slim, deep-cut, snug –
provocative – I cooed

and purred along the way
the image of you in my bed
provoking me to shout
silent, glow smug
all day simpering soft
for anyone and everyone
to know I came away satiated

it was near four
when your plea came
do you know
I adore the way you ask
demand – and I never
saying nay, embracing
shameless my lust for you

we slept little till the alarm
I deep though brief;
you reaching out
in half slumber
to grasp my sex
in your hand madly
getting me off then
a slow fade to slumber

drousily still aroused
I turned to spoon you
pushed up on feathered air
arms devouring you,
lean, tan, young
my mouth relished
your nape, your collar
that valley 'tween
shoulders I so covet,

until you turned on me
hard, demanding
and I took you, let you



July 24, 2007 - Tuesday


what once was darkness, now bright laughter


one
way I suppose would be to
refuse to acknowledge the thing
let it grow restless and move away

this from
a Japanese flick I thought profound,
called "life taste good"
notice the odd vernacular

another,
way of dealing is that
once I find the source
I can manage it

this from one of the
things I seek to understand
he is beautiful, bright, and distant
in his unsurity
notice…I make up words when
I can think of no other to suit

more likely,
I will ponder the issue
think of all options open to me
beat it to a bloody pulp
and own it
or as slang goes, p-owned
(I still don't think I quite get this
but the accompanied pictures
always make me laugh)

this from me
from inside what once
was darkness, now bright

laughter.

notice how my last thought
came unstructured
the order askew

or did you notice
was it really that off
and is it all in my head anyway



July 23, 2007 - Monday


my hours with things


I fill my days, my weeks
my hours with things
to do and thoughts of you

I am becoming

accomplished.

In your distance I gaze
wistful for what was
mouth a stir for flesh
heart sick for words

but feel my attentions
my utter truths
cloying and clinging –
I do not like this feeling

and must retire from it.

I am not gone
nor want to be
I am of course yours
as ever I was
as ever I am or will

but if your freedom
is good part my adoration
so be it truth that you are here
as much as ever you will be
if so you decide...

if you so decide
but damn
you are a stubborn beast

and I no longer master
of my heart but slave
seeking to control the bleed.


mommy dearest

Mother hasn't stalked me
in over a fortnight four.

Should I worry there's a body
to which I will need to tend
and burry? Should I give her
what she was after all along:

someone to take care of her
regardless of her greed?


July 23, 2007 - Monday

the absence of breath


living;
is it the high-lows
or the absence of breath?
Surely to which, the other
is the surviving...



July 16, 2007 - Monday

energy from air


Having lost the argument
with the man of science
as I sometimes must,

I now emerge
from a drugged out stupor
still pink-cheeked, fevered
and drawing energy from air;

face toward the burning sun
inner peace profound
I cannot be swayed
from my course
not now that I am found.

Yet still there is a quiet
where sadness weeps;
she is my soul a wander
an ache of hunger, thirst
and need that echoes
off the coming silence,

on deaf ears her pity pleas.