Ace

Honey child

you can care about it

going wild

spend your afternoons and evenings

in the branches and the lush leaves

Too many

things have hurt you and you

try to hide

try to love what loves you back and might

never let you down

Fly high

like the little one you held in your hand

With the eyes that seemed to understand

and made a mother of a child

His wings

will never take him very far away

you see, he comes back for you every day

and he would die at your door

(and he did)

Save a feather

as a relic of a pristine love

but realize that relics rot and rust

there’s no way to escape from loss

So let him teach you

let him teach you what I’m trying to say

Grow your loving for the living,

not forgetting what has been

Like a womb

never completely shrinking back to size,

where you’ve loved you will enlarge

but let it go, give it up and let another birth come

you’ll keep giving life…

Intercession

I can feel your prayers
as if the words were Ghostly
gossamer threads we
both are tied by,
shaking at the slight touch
of a hand.

Somehow we know, though we don't
know how to traverse this wet web,
those strands which will safely hold us,
those which will catch
our enemies.

Oh, spin -
keep spinning from inside you
silver intercession,
our home
suspended in air.  

Take and Eat

Blood and juice
indistinguishable;
Velcro pricking as I pull away,
stained. Soft berries roll off their stems
into my hand,
still warm.

Pressed between my tongue and the roof
of my mouth are
wounds, little kisses,
sweet metallic
purple black
and red.

Dame Tu Mismo

I have been swimming in air,
dipping after luxurious waltzes.
I have been breathing upside down.

Opening to You is like lilies,
like suckling at the breast.
If only I were eyes, more eyes,

and more to love You with. 

London Burning

There may be a great fire in our hearts,
yet no one ever comes to warm himself at it,
and passers-by see only a wisp of smoke.
-Vincent Van Gogh


Behind Vincent's eyes was a vision of fire,
of London's clan-destiny, sure consummation
of towers and cobblestone, markets and monuments,
blazing.

Rollicking into the sky were the spires,
cathedrals and clocks wrapped in beautiful fires,
the cries of the people igniting
a chorus of praise.

Orchestral

inevitable

a final endeavor
that climaxed so suddenly, certainly, bloodily -
blinding the stars like the poppies
that burst on the mind with their violent

ecstasy

chemistry

heat, fuel, and oxygen
pounding again
in a howling refrain:

this was meant to be. 


Yet somehow it chilled on the tips
of his fingers, and Vincent was never relieved;
for the paintings that haunt us,
that wound us and taunt us,
are those that we never made. 

(Your Name Here)

I always write your name
in parentheses.
I want to protect you.
What you are is naked to the world,
it is ashamed of you,
you put it to shame.

Miss E

You stuttered words,
a sing-song muttering,
and even then you never
said my name;
"I love..." and that was all,
nattering, strapped to a lawn chair
in the sun.
I knelt before you, hand on your knee,
tea roses on your lap.