Comatose vigil
Over me in the city of cripples
Beggars and whores

Impenetrable hope
On their empty hands, grime
And deep lines of destiny 

Hope sought after me
Over watching the city from rooftops
With bare eyes staring straight

Into an annular solar eclipse.
Deadly thirsts

Howled about me, in the air pierced
With arrows at my moles

Running the risk of ultimately
                                          turning
                                            cancerous

I didn’t beg, and also did not give
Sedated by the stream running away from hope

Ultimately
Running away from me.

Won’t you sit with me
And romance for a while
Tell me how you got here
Don’t be scared of the cemetery
Ravens crowing over my

Ran down iron gate on a single

Hinge- even in death some can afford a backyard
Others get a place on the shelf

But all are eternally equal
Home of Eternity, home

And a resting place. Sometimes
I walk to the obelisk. Sometimes

I lay as dead as fog on the hills there-
People don’t go there

Some say they’ve seen ghosts
And tiny drops of light in the rain.

I’d left you as you were
Making reports
Phone calls
Cleaning up the kitchen

Our chapped-lip goodby kiss
Still lingered on our cheeks and mouths and earlobes

As I entered a Tuesday world
And the mother-kid couples were bitching
About the discovery of the fact of an incomplete homework

And the promise of a hot day
Fogged up my ray bans with open- shirt cafes
Cigarettes, morning pints and occasional

Thrift-store gems and my heart sang
Albeit, for a different reason:
In this teenage sunlit dream paradise
I dreamed of losing my blooming freedoms

To you; to come back right in
To smother your upper lip and to
Bite your lower one and
Be happy in self-absorbed silence;
And take out the trash
And thoroughly wash the dishes.

I don’t trace
Where your eyes go
As long as they end up
In mine

Sometimes I look for
Your hand and get en elbow
In return

But all is fine, I know that everyone
Has got to have a space to breathe
And a place to call their own

Everyone
Needs a night to feel alone, but all is fine
Sadness is a way to know true happiness

Loving truly doesn’t always equal being truly loved
But it’s ok to be the one forgiving

As long as you can get that feeling in return.

She gets dressed slowly
Puts her makeup on
Looking at her own
Through a small mirror in the bedroom
Smeared with candlelight.
On turquoise marble
Pulverizing blow
And cutting these beautiful
Lines to run thick by her sleeping heart.
She walks out onto the boulevard
And the lights smile at her
And the moon in feathers
Falls at the very tip of her footsteps.
Couples cling to each other, 
And the lonely ones she welcomes with a subtle nod
While taxis rush and cars slide down
Disappearing into the moonlit somewhere.

Majestic is the night
Omnipotent, omniscient

Also tender and beautiful in the creases-

Night’s belly and the back of her knees.
The night looks at me with owl eyes.

We listen each other,
Then start dancing our own dance.

I close my eyes and the tree branches start to whisper;
I open them

And she stands there, swaying from side to side.
I can hear leaf falling,

Branch cracking underneath the night;
She’d become weightless

And the shadows lay pleasant 
At the corners of her yellow eyes.

I take a step toward her
And she stands there

Waiting for me to fly
Away but I’ve been to the skies;

I told her I cared for her
And I stayed.

The bay is covered by the soft fog
It’s a weightless night.
I held your arm
Half an hour ago,
I’m still warmed by your warmth.
Other eyes sink into me
Not a trace of winter fears left in me
I can greet them as a long-forgotten friend.
As the reminder of you dies
In my hand the memory of you- lives.

Even at the time I knew it was
A lifesaver you were throwing me.

Looking down after saying something important
As I was passing out

Hammered by 800 and
A Newport clinged in my yellow teeth.

Full body weight on the concrete-
Pelvic bones against electrified earth

You can’t jump lower then your own
Or be thicker then thumb-point finger girth

A life drawing lines in the sand

For the youthful moon-begotten
Bulging/subsiding  surf

I always swim to the ocean

Ocean more bountiful then land.

A spring cocked in me
In the farthest region,
On my periphery.
I find myself
Justifying the existence of onlookers and strangers.
Then of people I’m living with.
I bend halfway and sink
My burned face into my cut palms-
Patches of missing skin and calluses-
Worth of dealing with something other then my own.
Even tried brushing my teeth in a different pattern.
Life used to be complex while being delightfully simple,
Now it’s heartache and headpain day
After day and I feel I’m getting dumber by the minute.
As I learn more about them,
I forget things about myself and I long
For amnesia and the bittersweet schizophrenia.
I’m better off, I disarm myself,
But a spring cocked still a primary cause of my chestpains,
It’s the splinter rotting at the ends of me,
And a conscious decision
To be out and over with
And never again to be.

I stop writing when in doubt
But doubt is a stranger

To the hearts of those who 
Have nothing to lose have eyes

Like so in a white bathrobe
Across a shitty day like lightning

When a pure heart sings
Even the silent telephone

Even the slip knot made from the telephone wires
Can’t win and asphyxiate a sunshine

There are times I wish it would.
I wish it blew

The brains of this operation called life somewhere
Between 7th and 8th and Market

Around midnight. I watch them, too
I like how they can’t find an avenue

To administer while I’ve got a healthy bodyful.
I like how despite nothing

I don’t exercise my god given right to be an atheist or a misanthrope
And most of all

I love to waterboard the pleasure
Out of a chemical agent called reality.