You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting-
over and over announcing your place
In the family of things.
Between our presence
By happenstance, my mind
Beyond your grasp
By blast, my energy
Chaos begets time.
(July 12, 2010)
I love the taste of your lips
To feel them pressed against mine
Your heat beneath my hands
Sweat slick, riding the waves
I love the feel of your pulse
I feel safe in your arms
And can take control of the world
(July 21st, 2009)
Divine retribution on your lips
Your chest heated and tense
Consume a breath, so immense
Writhing flesh, we collect what’s left
An accord of resistance
Through your cold fingertips
In tiny sips, your teeth pinch
Eyelids flutter, muscles contract
Escapism in it’s final act
(Oct 8, 2010)
Oh the ways in the world
How we watch them sway
And let them cause delay
Wishing and waiting
How we let them fall
Like it’s nothing at all
I am a conundrum. I am that moment your tongue moves to say something and your brain forgets to send the signal. I am that breath purposely placed between words to give a moment for thought. I am that stutter, that quivering lip before asking someone out. I am the tick in your hand, in your eyebrow, in your neck… the one that you worry gives away your intent.
I am those silences between exchanges when both parties process their thoughts. I am the searing frustration of interruption. I am the relieving calm of understanding.
I am a middleman, always in between, always moving. Always grasping reality from the edges.
your howl sings to me
like the tapping of rain on a tin roof
or wind blowing through the trees
beneath a full moon
the night sky aglow
your fur tickles me
like the feeling of a sparrows tail
or sun shining on wet skin
damp from the river
that lets you swim in it’s flow
your growl entices me
like the eyes of a once lost lover
or soft lips on bone
accents of femininity
that want your touch
and to give you fever
baby, howl at the moon
and to show you’re eager
purr, because I’ll be there soon
He drew a circle that shut me out—
Heretic, rebel, a thing to flout.
But Love and I had the wit to win:
We drew a circle that took him in!
She is like an exhale- relieving and relaxing, yet leaves you just one breath closer to death. And then you blink and she is gone, fleeting… like the rest of your life.