"For Echo"

Speak to me
please
I'm not strong or brave
but I can shun Narcissus
cissus
us
Oh!
But there is no Us
I know
soon the dusk hours
are coming
and there will be
nothing
but a thick blanket
with only a few worn holes
to let in
tiny shards of morning
of Mourning
Oh!
But I won't mourn . . .

I am
one
but I am not
alone
a perfect vessel

For Echo

***************************************
"Would you would"

If my body fell away
the skin breaking down
into bits and bits of dust
as my tresses crumbled
and my nails cracked
as my bones melted through
leaving my form true
but a roundish jellied mess
If the flowers in my name wilted
and my throat constricted
so that the sound of my voice
was
only a memory
whispered in your half-forgotten dreams
a song caught in thoughts
echoing before any word was sung
before my lungs could squeeze
the force of sound
and not even my eyes
could scream
or laugh in joy
or show a window to my soul
If I was still
unchanged
still changing
If I somehow smiled
would
you would
still love me
would you
know
that even if I
could not
hug you
or whisper, “Hi”
even if Icould not
twist my legs around you
or taste your sweat
even if I could
not hear your voice
always or ever
and even if your face and form
never existed
or existed but were never mine
I still
would love you
still and…
always still

********************************************

"Spring"

Demeter's tears
welled over months
have issued ice enough
and so,
the cold of mourning now sufficed,
the thaw begins
and melts the snow
as love winds in
thrusting its way through
the wind-whirled night
the first bright
blooms of dawn
dotting life along
the fasting earth,
ready now,
bearing itself wide
to gorge on
godess'
tears of joy
birthing green growth
that creeps from its hiding shell
beneath the crisp cold swell
of earth revealing
within its insides
potent seeds of possibility
that suck up the drips
and drink the drops
leaking from above, stinging stripes
those wet marks of Demeter's
maternal love
that make the sleeping stillness
wake
and make all that was frozen
break
releasing life
and feelings felt
and now something in my spirit melts
and I too glow
with the sowing of my own spring
my body lighter now
than the one I'd dwelt in
nights ago
and though the chill
clings still
and stings the air
I find that I do not care
about the wet in fact
I do not mind
the damp at all
curling in the mud with you
and watching
the heavens fall

*******************************************************

"Goddess Birthing"

a poet, a girl
a dreamer
I am not an angel, but a human
seeming plain
earthbound
wrapped in skin and flaws and history
stuffed with tattered bits of memories, true and false
of all I’ve known, loved, and lost
of laughter light and tears tossed without
of petty thoughts, base and mean
of things that were and are and
of things that have things that have ended
and of things that have never been
but I am more than the girl the world has seen
in me wrought
at the apex of my mind and my heart and soul
you can find
burning
an ember
a glowing spark of the divine heritage of my sex
waiting to blaze bright and strong and so explode
igniting the world of me, in me…the world made by me
sparking soul fires in my blazing sisterhood
lighting the stars that shoot behind our eyes, and fuel our yawps and cries
birthing beauty
real beauty
now un-bound
from that place that is deeper than flesh, more basic that atoms
it is the truth
it is the why that never lies dormant
it is the urge to surge into potential and strip away the girl
baring new and raw the woman
swelled out full
cradling the history of her sex
in the mighty arms of now
it is the opening of eyes
widening them past sight into un-shielded absorption
of the goddess-incarnate
the mother that may be
the girl that grows
it is the glory of life and living
filling every empty space within
saturating doubts with the light tinge
of all the colours sharing shades
inside the flames of the fire
gifted by the gods so long ago
that burned away the apes coursing in the veins
and made humanity
it is the inevitable evolution
the twin of creation
it is the reality seeped in women’s bones
the cycle: child, maiden, mother, crone
and every beat within my heart
fans that ember’s flames
and brings me closer to taking part
in the destiny of woman
I am ready now to claim what will be mine
and…already I am growing there
I have been shown the universe that lies in wait within my loins
the richness that purloins the moon’s weight for my bleeding time
I have felt a heat that does not come from stars or sun
and wound a life around my soul
this, I’m beginning to learn and know
is nothing if not
the very definition of divine
In me, there is a goddess!
she was always there, waiting through
the awkward tears of my forming years
and the shady seeming-truths of youth
and living here, inside the womb
of earth and sky and sea
my body trembles
my soul shakes
and my mind piques
in anticipation
of what I will someday be
of the destiny
that will fill me...
soon

*******************************************

again
The double (and so on) entendres of human sensation
the subconscious glistening on and through the skin
exagerated perspective of depth
eerily, purely, white
immaculate perception, un-smudged, un-littered
literally
impossible
yet, possible because
here: the union of two
sheets of dermal casing and nerves
defining tricks
of disintigration
knowing that beneath reality, only, can
lie perfection
and we defy reality
blurring the rationality of mathematics
as we make two become one
expanding even time before we're done
grunting and surging on our journey past
the flaws, terrestrial
the dark spots, ours
eyes, black holes
above us, fancy flawed by conscious hopes of . . .
words and thoughts and dreams and something more
the world, in a tear drop-ped and splattered
a universe in the silvery moons
rising on our fingernails
never waxing
never waning
never setting on
but grasping, grabbing. holding
the archetypes formed and shared
and realized
in the flesh
by you
by me
by us
and so on
and on
and on again...and again...and...

********************************************

“composed in/of bordom and reflection on Wordsworth, Angelou and all the rest . . .”

doldrum memories dance
not unsoftly around
on and on and inside
sounding on
rough edges of mind and 'never mind'
defences fall, falter, fail

to(o) dull
or drown the sound
of playback going round around I
and I forgot that . . .
yesterday

yesterdays are merely songs
not said, yet long since sung
and since performed not needing
to be sung again
hummed again

and yet I end
in the corner spot of room
too late
too soon
too crisply still yet still

a riot of again blairing in
my brain trying hard
and hard to make
this hardly new
to make the present the same
and have

doldrum memories dance
songs, no shouts of change
inside and out I remain
in past, still
past cages cage me still, and now
and how I rail and howl

that the caged bird sings . . .
of many things
not just
of freedom
and of daffodils

**********************************

“Crystaline Bells”

Crystaline bells break
when rung
becoming semi-solid
raindrops sharp and dry
scratching
stinging
scraping the eyes
drawing the blue
blood
mixing
blending
forming
salty crystal that suspends
itself in time
and is
impossible
to find in an objective
reality
It burns the skin
You see
It succumbs
to the physical
plea
of the wor(l)d
when it’s a chilling-frozen wor(l)d
where chilling-children play with
cooled-down imagination
that solidifies
the semisolid
rain
drops
into
a sheet of clouded glass
of cloudy-perfect glass
so perfect
it freezes fast over the eyes
shielding
blocking
painting over
the searing heat
that kindles
burning
deep
down
it sends it down so
far that fire freezes
and I promise
I pray next time
next time
next time I’(ll) try,
I’ll start again
I’ll try
I’ll try and make
and make those bells from brass

********************************

Stone scratches
skin
when hands stretch too high

I wish (or I would)
sometimes—that—(could)?—I could be beautiful . . .
luminescent enough
to light up
a room
and twinkle eyes to mirror mine own
(and mind you, grey clouds would not ever
dim the interior realm
beneath vision, were this the
case)
because outside would manifest
within
or is it visa versa
(be)?
Anyway,
it would be wonder
(fully) contagious . . .
Of course
not
that I dislike grey or
mean to belittle
the necessary haze or variations
I just don’t wish
to be the spreader of grey blues
(being bearer is a nother matter
entirely, and a subject for another
future discourse
with a decidedly darker
(grayer(?))—no pun intended
“gothic” poetic nature
I’m merely desperate
to be
great
(while also, I’d wish to be
strong where certain great Richard’s
have failed . . . . though
to turn winter to summer!
to place warmth instead of cold!
And make green growth come
phonetically
would bring me
much
content(ment))

Once again . . .
mmmmm
well, actually, :/ pun intended

and . . . I babble
and . . . I digress
and Oh!
Oh oh oh!
Oh Bugger! Oh Dear!

Can luminescent girls make (bad) puns?

Perhaps . . . .

*********************************

I told my secret, released from chain clad heart shielded with—taught—taunt unstretched straps on (or of) non-corporeal sinew, metaphoric bonds of fear, tie(r)s of desire, for safety and strength fancies osculated in ephemeral metaphoric lands while hands writhed and woke, wrote down words that drown out lies and obdurately unbreaking, unstretching, unshattering masks; I told my secret, and my voice was heady with energy tinged with Icarus wings and, the shady allegory clear, I panicked and froze, solid, grabbed my light and airy freedom—free (form) from—kicking and screaming, dragging earthward, inward to be wound around with thickly mucous bubbles of tenacious fear masquerading as logic safe and anchored in a strictly sticky gooey stream of neurosis I told my secret and palpitations shook and rattled as the strength of solitary knowledge crumbled the [anthropomorphized] fact breaking and reshaping its identity reborn—a secret no longer—and I shook and writhed and changed staring with the longing born of habit at the hot white dot in the sky, the symbol of my[self] contained past the heat that could melt the mucous see me my bonds tying me to secret, secret to[o] me I stared upward, relaxed my metaphoric grip and let gravity take and physics take [over] acquiesce[d] to impulse open[ed] to change. The mask unanchored now, fell and broke, wings fade[d], and I, I float[ed] free

**************************************************

'we too, I'

I danced that night
to music, in my mind
harmonizing dischordantly with blairing
music filtering roughly through
the dusty speakers
the echo voices
people speaking half
truths through their fanning mouths
I added my own
pseudo--truths--tinged
with soliptic fantasies in, too
into the dinn
and danced to the non-existant
pauses in the mottled tapestry
of sensory input bleeding
blurring and blending
drifting . . . into immersion

I awoke

this morning
with contrast
eyes--souvenirs
of my midnight

revels--when I glanced
oh so shyly into
the bathroom

glass
looking

I saw . . . for the first time
freckle sized bruises
sprinkling the skin so pale
above my lip

I blinked
and I touched

smooth surface
and the camera spun
in bullet time
as my thoughts twisted
turning in
the dazed and mushy recollection
of me, my fantasies and adventures
I tapped the glass
feeling the ping against the reflection
then whispered into the empty room

thinking

It's near the dawn of noon
at 3:30 will I . . . will we . . .

*************************

'The Fifth Season'

the pregnant pause
before the decay
the promise held
and holding still
still and quiet
so tomorrow can be
weighed
paths chosen
inevetables not delayed
for now, dwelling
in the liminal
gazing at the sky
waiting for the warmth
to lie
to lay away in wait
again
the green to crumble
so the crystal can be born
to coat and glimmer
the branches stripped
of leaves
the trees existing now
as different sorts of beings
but first the autumn cold
will sheath it all in gold
and fiery reds
a sunset embedded
on the fallen and soon to fall
but now...for now
it is all just a calling
a soon to be
the air's still sweet
the sun still greeting day
and tonight I will lay down
and sleep
not thinking of the reaping
to be done
for now...I will...it all will
linger
still

**********************************************

'Found'

There is a game of indirection
where random roots of memory harass
while other visual momentary impressions
move towards erasure
in a world where we cannot always remember
yesterday
and all we've got is fictions
and the immediacy of vision is a text of repression
erased connection
and all is liminal
dead don't lie still
live don't always will
and maybe fall to become
empty placeholder in the concatenation chain
and all that forgotton history speaks
me
not I-self not in mastery of sense of self
and all but the tissue of assertions
hold my memory
literally
and aesthetics don't flee from history
and in this succession
we've made the mythic choice
and talked with the mythic voice
with our electric instinct
condenssed complications
in a fading fairy tale instant
of truth

*************************************

'I Want'

I want...want...want....
I want to join with you
particles fusing into a jumble
of sub-atomic pieces
as we tumble
releasing into the air
heated energy
fueld by the friction of our skin
the intensity of our daring
born in the kinetic manifestations
of a burning passion
shared
by two
humans
I want to be tangled in your limbs
so that I do not know
where you end
and I begin
bound and wound so
that I feel your grins of ecstsasy
lighting the space between my knees
as we please
each other
feel each other
and every pore is smothered
in the glory of touch
and contact fusing
down to the soul
losing myself in you
I want the world to drift away
reality now contained
in the uinverse of us
I want....I want....I want...
all of this
it must
be born
of something deeper than lust
so when the pleasure
explodes
falls slowly past its height
as the night moves into dawn
we can yawn contentment
and I....
I can cradle your eyes
in my vision
and swim softly
in their depths

*********************************

I saw a film today
and cried
tears
eddying down
not so smooth cheeks
stinging
the internal scratches
inflaming
the eternal flaw
first filling
then flooding the crevices
of minute imperfection
that character me
and it seems
the characters are
Me
and I am
trapped
behind the screen
in another world
some Woody Allen movie
I think
where nature’s law
does not apply but fractures her
many facets into
a newer
more malleable

Reality
I don’t know
the script
and I don’t
understand
the grander theme
that must drive
and inspire
the plot
and so
I do not know
what inspires
me (?)
drifting
(beneath the bell jar)
in a cinematic fantasia
of unknowable color and
impossible
camera movement
I need
to understand
I travel
deeper
Deeper
and am gone
I had thought
the screen
was white
and so

I failed

to question
observational Reality
I zoom in
closer and
I am
shocked to see
the cloth is
textured
pixilated (with)
shadows
forming
complex designs
that I suppose
could be fractalized
(if you go in for that sort of thing)
and I realize
the shadows are
Real
more real perhaps than
tangible white
because they are
everchanging
and change implies à
past
so they must have
a future
and so a life
and so a death?
past –> future –> death –> me
Me behind it
on the other side
But I’ve forgotten
is the film real?
or is reality a movie?
the characters cry for me
I think
creating
cinematic perfection
in the true
spirit
of modern
media
as the filmic tears
smooth out the flaws
of skin
and
wash out
the shadows
in
salty white light

*********************************

dare not yawn
You think it's strange that I live my life to see the sunrise
approaching it from the wrong direction
as if wrong can be qualified
you giggle when I wax postmodern
and in that laughter you imply
that were I to let you rub
the crusts of sleepless nights
from the corners of my eye
and the softer patches of my mind
that I would see
the world as you do
sans the million flecks of sunlight
sparkling the night sky
Never knowing
the pleasures of extending today
of living still in yesterday
and being lifted into dawn

*******************************************

"Waiting"

waiting
flayed out before you
flattened by your touch
waiting
with a burning need
waiting
breathing beginning to grow
waiting
back arched with desire
waiting and waiting
for you to tire
of your games
and ease the teasing
into
something solid
and hard
into something real
that I can feel
easing into something coming
into me
and now...cusping on ecstasy
waiting and waiting
through your touching
taunting
my lips bit by teeth
to stall my shouts
my fingers grasping out
in need
scratching at the skin
digging in to my rising breast
the whole nubile body
now rawly gripped
and clawed
lined with red
and waiting...waiting
and ready to pounce
and flip the tide
ready to be ridden
and to ride
to cry out
and manifest
sensation in sound
and be bound so
that in your limbs
I swim
against the sea
of you
ready, so ready
to be inside you
breathing your air
shaking with your fire
and finally finally acting
on desire
ready...
fucking ready
to not be waiting
any more

**********************
emerging
here
now
surging into presence
and resonating me
naked
and dripping down pieces of honesty
flooding the air with energy
finally ready to be seen
and be
here
my body opening
before your eyes
shedding the masks
shedding the lies
opening
all the tiny spaces
all the hidden spots
uncovering
what was lost
secret scars
and softer bits
where life had hit me hard
and the spark was missed
but now I stand
ready
exposed
begging to be explored
to be known
to exist
unfiltered by clothes
I take the risk
and undress again
my shyness wearing thin
and in eagerness
I reach out
touching you
now
holding you
now
softening into a kiss
suckling on your lips
drinking up your lust
soaking up your trust
and giving it all back
as I feed you me
the two of us
gorging ourselves
till our hearts are shining
full
and our bodies have made
their bond
and for my part
now
I have moved beyond
the me that was
before you
without speaking
I say the truth…
that in me
that hollow space
buried beneath the layers
of my skin
my fear
and all the irrational insecurity
that hollow space is gone
contracted now, into itself
having warmed
in the heat of the moment
melted into my soul
in that moment
when I knew
nothing
but the truth
of the instant
of revelation…
my wetness dripping onto you
all my juices
and the purest pieces of my flesh
no longer just for me
no longer only mine
and I shined true
and I was seen
naked, and unadorned
and still…
was touched
and loved
and utterly consumed
by you

*************************

'Feeling Winter'

thinking
quiet spaces
seeping in thorugh
the growing cracks
made by and by
winter's creeping
drying me
with the need for sleep
like the leaves
curling up
crisp and small
to fall alone
and decompose...
into the birth of spring
and the cracks are raw
roughly begging
to be filled
by kind fingers
and sweet smiles
hugged smooth and soft
early
by the warmth of you

***************************
'season'

How odd...the world
spins on
when winter leaves
drop down to break, to fade, to dust upon
When why would I?
not Spring, reborn
survive the Fall
from Persephone's hall
where love does not need
eat the seeds...
so well, we'll know
too lust cannot make
the flowers grow
from barren wilderness
slowing and sowing of
soliptic wastelands
lost
useless
without
a surfeit of nothing
and Demeter writhes on
and wreaks her punishment
demented but fair
maternal tears frosting air
and sending growth away
as the land mimics
her soul's mourning sway
infecting it all with grey--
winter--starkness
when even when, I know
the season's chase
rounds around
again to end
where it began...
each year, the time will come
and hell will vomit up
the object of its love
and sun will shine
again
on Persephone's face
and mine
the world
again
with warmth...enough

***********************

cold drips from the sky
plopping around me
drowning the air in mist
but in a twist of pleasure
my limbs are warmly
immersed fully
beneath the still heat
of contained water
and even as the rain
chills the exposed skin
the hot tub
bubbles cool
compared to the tingle
of your lips
joining with mine

**********************************

tears on the grass
salt edged blades scratching at the surface
as I try to bite through
myslef
lips clamped tight inside
pinching pains within my mind
sowing tiny scratches on the inside
reminding me sharply of what exists
when I think to push away
and pass myself out
into nothing
and my head spins me down
as I welcome the ground
arms reaching out in hopes of grasping
something tightly
but there is nothing welcoming me there
curling inside the night...
alone
I cannot hug the air

*******************************************

heart in hand
I speak truths
to the mirror
begging of her reflection
nothing
but the same

***********************************************

skipped over
feeling small
if at all
slipping from people's minds
finding the moment thin
seeming, fading like the sunset
into the echo of my vessel
the need to cut in
and feel
control, sharply met
and countered
by the weighted ache
memories of what I've taken
high in my mind
swimming heavy
and, like the song
I am gone
no diamonds
no shining
no reeason
no rhyme
not this time...

**********************

hollow space
burrowed in my mind
seeking to fill
with any sweetness
it can find
the shady gaps
where fear and love
have overlapped
and grabbing hard
at empty air
expecting...
nothing
yet I surprise my fingers
rather than lingering
in the overlaps
and breathing in
only air
I close my eyes
and see...
a million reasons
to care

*********************

A million flecks of sunlight
bouncing of the end of an anvil
in the blackened shop
where I toil 24/7
in the softer parts of mind
vending all the time
since I've spent all
but hopes and airy dreams
on the promise of a single sun
that can limn the truth
before tomorrow breaks

*******************

a kiss
that tickles
beneath the skin
winding its way
down
to my toes
as it grows
and deepens
into more than
a gentle breezing
of lips bridging
the caverns
separating the connection
between different human atoms
and my mind
still
wanders on its way
away

************************

you
are a part
(not apart)
of the twining
ties that bind
the souls swirling
flitting and flirting and twirling
around each other
just skirting
the sucking pull
of the event horizon
protecting your heart

******************

coat me in the wastes of heavens
and soak me through the skin
past the meat of me
into the heart of me
drizzle down until I'm flooded
and leaking out
my own drops
of nature

*********************

drizzling a bit . . .
I'm tired
of skipping stones
through the river of my peers
laughter
as precise as the ripples
and the waves
soaked past the skin
by tacit sweat
and messy spills
drunk on the bumps
and too loud tears
I could almost touch
the island calm
be still or try
but still . . .
I shiver
when life's too dry

**************************

My throat scratched
by 'reality'
the shimmer
has detached
leaving just a hall
allmost all
but devoid of dust
yet packed with those
speaking to quell their lusts
for another year
compressed
decompression and obsession
too loose a bond
to make this
person or that
the next
to brush off
twinkling facades
and touch the grit
below the grins and nods
and drink the nectar
stored behind
each other's eyes
so desperate
to be . . .
seen

*****************************

the heavy head
drowned from the inside
out
by wet and silent shouts
screamed release
as the inside
geisers up
making feasable
to see the pieces
whole
and find the peace
beneath the tears
that clears
the foggy soul
the calm rings in . . .
the reward
one feels
for crying

*******************

There's a topsyturvyness to my life
viewed off-kilter
with the lenses wrongly placed
to face
what there is
to see
with swaying eyes
everything screwed
too tightly
as I feel for right
and the negatives
seem so . . .
real

****************************

The sun shines somewhere always--
such is her tenacious way
but, through the clouds today
only weakly does she make her presance
known
casting only the faintest echo of her glory
and through the walls
built
I've built
I feel
only the soft chill of static air
and blessings swarm
only in the that tangle cloth of yesterdays:
those dawns that have long since lived
out to dusk
folded over by heavens
in their screaming breaks in the black
as they strive to make us not forget
all
the world(s)
all
beyond
and so, even in the memories
cherished, the hot pulse of life
the fire that illuminates
all
the world, the sun
seems small and dim
I feel cold,
wanting to lie
on my back, spying through time
watching the heavens fall

**********************************

Darkness wraps me well
velvetizing my vision
shading my walks
and, like the best kind of lover,
filling in every open space
saturating every crevice
and continually promising...
the dawn of something new

*********************************

Scary to step free
and be
open
eyes wide
un-shielded absorbtion
of the world
swelling around you
with the promise
of living

**************************************

the urge
to surge into potential
be well
the true you
swelled out full
cradling your history
in the mighty
arm
of now

********************************

Hot rich warmth wettening between my legs pulsing to a tune of music no one ever hears tasting the stale spit of another's intoxicating mouth tongues dancing a warring dance of dodges and feints hitting their mark and achieving victory wherever whenever contact achieved vampiric tickles on necks and fingers acting like magnets pulling sensations onto the surface of arms soft tingles picking up ticks of pleasure like iron filings moving and spreading down down down and every layer of skin and blood vibrating vibrantly alive pulsing harmonic melodies projecting onto into becoming oneiric and synaesthetic noise that hardly clashes hard discordant with guttural sounds and glottal notes formed at the base of throats salacious strokes of skin on skin wanting desperately for something come in

**************************

greeting the water
little red drips pinging down
announcing 'aunt flo'

**************************

"the days before"

cReaping
Seeping, as blood seeps
outward
from the wounds deep
center
I creep down
down the ally / ways
of though(t). crawling through
the gaps / where I cannot / see
re(a)d
Magnolia
blossoms litter
The Bomb

bursts

--portebella droppings drip from
the sky, a solid
and mushy storm
thunder, us—I wish . . . I will
leep I will play - dream - frog

the frogs
will be
pleased

(finally eased--
of be-be-be-be-be-ing)

**************************************

"Un-zipped meaning,
memory fragments"
-Shoshana (Hebrew for Rose)

I told my secret, released from chain clad heart sheilded
with--taught--taunt unstretched straps on (or of) non-coporeal
stregnth sinew, metaphoric bonds of fear, tie(r)s of desire, for
safety and
................... Me saring, standing
................... swathed [in/and] stark reticence, wanting and not
................... wanting to speak (or be)
................... heard or/and seen or/and
................... ackowledged me
................... wanting to punish myself
................... (red stems of skin scratch, claw-like blooming
................... and budding red
................... flowers, roses with thorns)
fancies osculated in ephemeral metaphoric lands while hands
writithed and woke, wrote down words that drown out lies and obdurately unbreaking, unstretching, unshattering masks; I told my secret,
................... Shoshana-rose
................... I never promised you a rose
................... garden in "Erev Shel Shoshanim", haunting melody
................... memory sung at joinings and breakings
and my voice was heady with energy tinged with Icarus wings and, the shady allegory clear, I panicked and froze, solid, grabbed at my light and airy freedom--free (form) from--kicking and screaming,
................... my mother
................... yelling at her mother's funeral, loud voice filling
................... in the silence left by un-shed tears
................... that seem just ready to scratch the surface
................... because
................... my apparel makes me look fat
................... and somewhere beneath my own tears that will
................... not come, I laugh
................... in whisper land, laugh at the tragic absurdity...
................... as if friends and family of the deceased will break
................... from their mourning to tisk tisk tisk
................... about Melody's daughter
................... about my mother's daughter
................... about her ensemble
................... assembled
dragging earthward, inward to be wound around with thickly mucous bubbles of tenacious fear masquerading as logic safe and anchored in a strictly sticky gooey stream of neurosis I told my secret
................... anew--pro(found)--profoundly different
................... moment to begin
................... listening but not
................... listening to my mother and imaginary music,
................... attention and inattention
................... divided I stand
................... in mute
................... attention and am overcome with guilt
................... and pity that today, of all days, I cannot
................... provide her with what she want(ed)
................... I am still stout(ly)
................... me, and I'm genuinely
................... sorry
................... sorry that I...
................... I think
................... I think that I would
................... Instantly, I would sacrifice my quirks and mold my
................... spirt and my body into the embodiment of all her
................... hopes for the infant that I was if only for this
................... moment (semantic ambiguity intended)
................... to maker her...further fromtears
................... would sacrifice my reference frame world
................... if it would--could it--make her happy
and palpitations shook and rattled as the stregnth of solitary knowledge crumbled the [anthropomorphized] fact breaking and reshping its identity reborn--a secret no longer--and I shook
................... I look in her eyes, say softly, genuinely, I'm sorry
................... brushing aside, again, semantic ambiguity intended,
................... all the instinct
................... you all hate
................... for everything I'm not and everything
................... I can
................... feel the coarsness of teh apes running though my
................... veins, stronger and more vibrant
................... than the angels, trace
................... the braille-like scars of skin of life and feel
................... the weighty montage of memories barrage my brain
................... every moment memory a mere bump on the time
................... line forever burning and boroughing into
................... inside my mind
writhed and changed staring with the longing born of habit at the hot white dot in the sky, the symbol of my[self] contatined pst the heat that coule melt the mucous see me my bonds tying me to secret,
................... the little kindnesses that keep me
................... sane and here
................... here, in a world made forever smaller now that one
................... reference frame world has forever faded off
................... and died and I did not
................... I will not cry
................... I will myself not to...
................... to let them know
................... intended to
................... I stand
................... silent
................... shy in the sunlight where it counts
................... and the knife glints blindingly in the darkness,
................... gauze shimmers in the moonlight
................... sings, seems
secret to[o] me I stared upward, relaxed my metaphoric grip and let gravity take and physics take [over] acquiesce[d] to impulse open[ed] to change. The mask unanchored now, fell and broke, wings fade[d], and I, I float[ed] free
................... suddenly feel
................... profound[ly] and wonderful[ly]
.........alive...

***********************************************

“A Cutting [retro]Active Return to Adolescent Angst”

Why.
Why Salt.
It’s.
There’s.
a pain
in my wrist
bubbling
beneath the skin
begging to be
let out
so it’ll let me in too
the essance
of [the] cells
as I manifest
the rain
with logic-made
sane-by
hear
heart[less] cries
muffled with
soddered window-pains

salt for salt
(an even exchange)?
OF?(F)?
actions lived behind
behind
behind
iced window panes . . .
deserted
decorated in brightly woven ribbon
—too tight
too bright
it tears
it clashes with I—
arrogant s(h)een
and don’t forget
gaudy
presentation
matching well with the smile
style
Because
Be Cause All the while
Concentrating so hard
on hardly SEEming to See(m)
to(o) need
anything
any thing
to maintain
[and] wonder
Why.
No one.
Questions.
The act of [I]
Serenity
salacious glasses
coated with
arbitrary
rhinestone gleam
so, pretty: shield the eyes
even in dim winter
sky blocked black by sun
shades shading out and in
ward
to the word
Why
It all fades in time time time,
never enough
dimestore lipstick lines
the eyes
and ribbon.
winding round the wrist
the rest
the presentation [to]
the world
and [me here] hear the implied
declaration
the “I don’t give a fuck!” about
convention—
[and] all aspirations
to wear purple dark
when green is the style
and incite
the insight
inside
wondering
Why pain is
Blue—or so they say—
when it seems so
obviously
red
(in manifestation anyway)
But what can say . . .
it’s easy enough to change
and every day the same
arrangement waking
and walking
and talking through
the game
every night, the same I
zombie-eyed before
the screen trying not
too seem to
aware of the feeling
burning
beneath
the surface
begging
to be let out
but . . . do not shout
cause that’d break
the rules so
neatly laid out about how
to be how
to seem so
play, but . . .

this game of life is hard to play.
lost, either way
see[m]ing every day the same
if never learn(ed)
to change
the rules
to re-evaluate
to re-value
salt
rate it higher than
salt . . .
if it was safer, at least
the flesh could find peace
and the cells could calm
down
come around to
a new kind of though
a new kind of way to face to
day
[the] day
where
blue is blue
and
red is red
and everything in its place nothing
needing out
nothing
wanting in
windows open
open windows
passed
past by me
me calm me purple me real and me able
able and allowed to feel