well wishes.

may there be hummingbirds in the new year.
may there be fluttering hearts in every year to come.

i am fine.

anger rushes
and swirls
inside the small
cavities that
i've designated
for it.
acknowledge it-
simply, articulately
explain a storm
in three and four
letter words, in
three and four
word sentences.
i am mad.
i really am fine.

it's always the
night that betrays me.
i am always betrayed in the night.
layers of intoxication
stumble and inject
themselves into the
most peaceful of dreams.
the medicine, or poison,
highlights the
very things that
i labeled
classified.
now, exposed.

i wake with a crow in my nest,

unsure
about reality
and the inner world
and if the dark forest
is really a place
i would like to visit.
they are all so difficult to distinguish

reality seems to be formed
by the unplanned
mingling and dismantling
of the carefully
engineered
compartments
and predicability's
that attempt to
ensure what
i never promise
in my dreams.

reality breaks it all.
i get mad.
i will be fine.

freethrow

here's an exercise in freedom, free thought, free throw:
let thoughts spill out, words jumbled and
disconnected.
we are all just parallel lines,
thanks Aldous Huxley
i wish for contact with them all
even if their stare hits me in the face
and hurts for days after.
just let the words come out
even when its late and
even when its not coming out
of any place of significance,
just try to conjure something that isn't so mundane.
i stop dreamning when i don't leave
these four walls,
too small to even yell in
i caught her today,
smoking out my window,
her eyelids were purple and she was shivering
and i just wanted to establish contact
and defy her lines
and break into her story
of sex and infidelity
and paris.
that's not even a coincidence, the bastard is in paris.
left her here and
i don't even know how to
call her somewhere better.
stop eating garbage.
don't know how to promise her love
like its guaranteed.
because i ddon't know that it will come
i just don't know much of anything.

back.

I walked instantly into
The swirling life
That does not stop for
Holidays and hardly even to say hello.

Her eyes, black and blue,
Waiting for the healing to come,
Greeted a stranger with love
And excited affection.

Within minutes I was
Called to care for the sick,
Rushing with a bucket
To catch his vomit.

I was crying too,
Not from lack of life,
But from too much of it
Swirling in my veins
And not knowing what to do with it all.

floating

i am only on-time in my daydreams
that rest in the clouds,
illumined by hope and love
and carefully crafted
fantasies of magic.

for every other task
i am perpetually tardy.
delayed by the sinking sorrow
of descending.

this is narration, not poetry. it's time to settle.

christmas cheer

did she think it would come to this,
i wonder?
i'm nearly confident it did
not cross her mind.

candles spread like a wave
from the front to the back
with whispers of peace,
joy, and a baby that never cried.
all that is required are
pleasant sentiments.

those who are
in the front smile bright.
couples matching, cute,
and wishing for the ideal
baby who never cries.

i sit in the back,
wondering about the real
baby who wailed
and if it would be
faux pas to use the flame
from my candle to light up.
not for a flame (deep, deep) in my heart
but for a cigarette for my nerves.

i say this a lot, and this isn't
my best.

but dammit i wish it was you
i was inhaling rather than
these flavored toxins
laced with rebellion and
disdain for all the obliged
greetings made by strangers
who recognize my surname.

i wonder what she was thinking,
trembling with her legs
open wide finally pushing
out the burden of carrying a
Messiah.
(was he heavier than the average newborn?)

she wailed, i'm sure,
and he followed.
how devastatingly ordinary.

he was born ill-equipped to
take over a kingdom;
carried no halo or scepter,
only trumpet wails.

he never stopped crying either:
when he skinned his knees,
and lost his best friend.
his life was so devastatingly
ordinary.

except that he was easily
taken in by those like us.
those who need.
he presence was
life, rich, full.
and later there were the
reversals of all that
devastated us;
he gave us miracles,
salvation,
life.

but, there was no grand entrance.
he simply lived.

i take solace
in his living
when i slip out
from the dimly lit
sanctuary
to satisfy
my selfish need.

i take care
to remember his
coming up unnoticed
and defying
all of our carefully
laid expectations
even in the midst
of heralding him in.

it somehow seems right that someone so ordinary could be the divine, the savior.

peace.

even in the middle of the night,
the snow covers us.

peace.

even in the middle of the night,
come find me,
keep covering me.

punch.

i fumble.
punch from in the inside out
only to
cry out.
exhale, inhale, exhale.

it's been too long (desire)

if you were something i could dive into,
accomplish, or finish,
i would.
i would devour you,
proud and full.
but,
you do not give way
to my general indecent behaviors.
or, rather,
you are much more to be discovered
than procured.
you discover me.
you entice.
allure.
whisper
words that carefully
dance around my ears,
tangled in my curls.
desire, desire.
i am spun
in secrets,
and regret,
and the innocent
feeling of infinity.
you incite in me
something that roars
late, or early, in the morning.
i feel it all over.
tremble, quiver,
desire, desire.
i only can tell you now,
after it's been too long,
only after affections wane
in subtle, tired
efforts to run away
that it's been too long.
desire reacts,
reverberates,
cries aloud.
i remind you
that i never remember
how we start,
restart.
my words fumble,
pause, wonder,
over breaks and silence
heavy in conversation.
i am not the smooth
one who gives
way to the
gentle flow of life.
no,
i demand:
spurred only by
desire.
do not toy with me,
there is too great a need
to be wasted
on empty passes
and fleeting moments
of desire.
do not waste your time on me
if you do not intend to be near.
i cannot bear
the weight of desire,
the agony of separation,
the terror of hopes
deferred to indifference.
and, in the blinding
shame of hiding
i seem to only notice after
it's been too long.
desire,
Emmanuel,
it's been to long.

leveled.

new york is still surprising,
i looked her in the eyes this
afternoon and
nodded from knowing.
standing where the buildings are
leveled,
hearing the rapturous sound
of solidarity.
we stood in open spaces:
desolate, empty,
yet, crowded, noisy.
walk around me seven times
and i will fall apart:
desolate, empty,
leveled.

the end.

i don't promise to get through this without sinning.
and, where are we going anyway?
is there some final point at the end
of breaths that will mark the day that i arrive?
or, a simple reward system depending on my progress?
i promise it won't happen like that.
(i know i can't make that promise).
i don't play games with theology or eschatology.
i only know that i need him to hold me
even when i'm in fits of rage or jealousy.
or foolish dizzy dancing.
i need him to love me,
carry me somewhere
that i haven't been yet,
forgive me before i ever even knew
that it was wrong.

another walk.

hope inscribed on the south side of the sidewalk.
i read it over and over again.

walking on sleeping feet.

give me something to sink my teeth into-
an apple, just picked from the tallest branch.
something to sustain or satisfy.

my hand are cold and numb from the
shallow, hollow wind.
i walk, or float, on sleeping feet,
always almost waking.

my mind is just hovering
a few inches above the ground,
before my steps,
ready to be swayed;
a kite in the breeze.

there are too many stones
thrown from snipers.

hit me.

wrap your punches around my string
and take me down.
converge two selves into one
self and set me on the shelf
regaining the perpetual knowledge of
now.

finding shapes in clouds

i like the cold
condensing breath,
breathing out my window at night
crouching, pitiful and hidden.

i make shapes
with my clouds.
a pirate ship,
a horse,
a plane.

they are all ways to go farther.

my legs can't go fast enough
beat down on the pavement
close my eyes
whirl my arms
and i have not taken off yet.

my mind, though, leaps from the edge.
i've jumped into the river
and i can see my body exploding
and i'm finally absorbed into
something bigger.

i think about these things
when i'm walking in the cold pouring rain
and my feet carry puddles and i
catch a glimpse of my spirit trying to escape.

i always inhale it back in.

we can't go yet.

wrapped up.

you wrap me in rose petals &
forgive me for secrets
that i tell in a wine glass.
assure me that i'm safe,
this season of quiet won't last forever,
i assure myself.
one day, there were be bombs, fireworks,
explosions that undo the terrain,
the scars
left behind by a war.
The war.
but, i love you still,
for laying lilacs on my pillow so i can sleep,
the dreams will come, you say.
everything is so gentle,
quiet, simple.
sparks fly like fireflies refusing
to believe the first snow
ever meant anything.
the war is over now, you say.
rest your tired heart before the dawn.
hold on. hold on.