Thrust and Parry

We seem to be writing circles around each other,
on either side of this invisible demarcation line,
we have drawn down the center of the city.

Maybe one day you will look up,
and I will be on the other side of the desk,
peppered with the intimates of your life,
with a wry smile and a wicked wink.
That is, if you ever look up.

In the meantime,
there is an invisible thrust and parry,
and I, for one,
am not sure who is thrusting and who is parrying.

We both have teeth,
and we are gnawing at every literary nuisance,
that gets in our way.

You in your little forest on the other side of town,
with a pretty young thing wrapped in your arms.
Me in my carefully built fortress,
meant to keep interlopers from the walls,
who always seem to sneak in anyways.

I should have set better traps.


I would interrupt you as you hold court,
to your glassy eyed admirers,
but I am only passing through.
I have to run.

You see, I am just so busy with all this nothing to do.
There are places I need to be,
and people I need to turn a blind eye too.
I need to get all these words out,
before they turn to stone inside my head,
and my skull becomes a large rattling maraca,
keeping time with the tragically melodramatic songs of the world.

I really am in a rush.
I really must run.

Maybe we will meet again without our clothing,
and lay down our swords.
Maybe we will finally write a straight line,
and close our eyes to the unnecessary noise of cluttered hearts.
Maybe the pen is mightier than the writer,
and soft lips can hold the truth and demise of the hour at bay.

Maybe one day;
Just one day will be enough.

When Summer and Winter Were Lovers

With downcast eyes you whisper,
'This is too much;'
but I know the most intimate act,
between a man and a woman,
is to have him take your hand,
and lead you through a crowded room.

You trace your fingers down my wrist,
as you draw me around the twisted throngs,
of careful on-lookers,
locked into their own tragic romances,
slipping shiny little glances at other parts of the room.
This heated night touches our skin,
and we pine for Summer's last days.

Glitter falls from the ceiling and lights upon my skin,
as you wrap yourself around my form,
in rhythm with this tribal beat;
a thousand feet pound the floor,
shaking the false columns of a lost Babylon.
I rewrite this Odyssey sinking into the ocean of your arms,
with my eyes half closed and your lips upon my neck.

This room is full of nymphs turning their bright eyes to us;
in a winking moment of tantalizing breath,
a two-sexed goddess controls the air around the stage,
and all eyes cast upon her;
but your lips remain upon my neck,
and your hands stray down my hips,
playing out the beat of your lust.

When we flee this room,
full of the beating hearts of breathless dancers,
and slip into the darkness of the city,
stealing down the back streets of dimly lit houses,
you stop me and kiss me under a tree,
dripping in the last vestiges of Summer.
You run your hands under my dress,
caressing your way to your own desires.
I feel Fall creeping cold hands into my hair,
and the wind begins to blow from the North.

This big bed is where I am undone,
and slip into a troubled sleep.
You stand in the corner and whisper,
'This is too much;'
I can feel the Fall turning my skin damp,
dieing leaves caught up in my hair,
all passion leaking from me as the Summer vibrates on and on.
I can feel the new Winter now not far,
crying to the dawn in a hushed voice.

They were once lovers as we are,
the Summer, ever bright and the Winter, darkening,
Summer kissing the glistening snows of Winter's soft hands,
Winter's frozen breath grazing Summer's warmed cheek.
But they never touched,
never found paths beyond emptiness,
and broke themselves,
as I have broken myself on the glass in your heart.
I watch your sad eyes as I turn on,
into this blinding dawn of dieing Summer's last wish,
for the Winter neither of us can have,
and the Fall that always keeps us apart.

Flutter

I have held the salt of you
upon my tongue
in your moments
of most soft relenting collapse

I have seen your hands
in the troubled ecstasy
of my rolling body
jump and start at the sound of fluttering

In my distorted heart and eye
I have written you
into this place my mind has suffered
and in mingling thought I have seen you fade

We two know only the text
the moment when idea transforms the page
and we can only write love like dying rain drops
in soft relenting mud

We two are bodies in space
beyond touch and taste
we have fooled ourselves to the brink of evolution
coming for one another through the grass

You write love and lust best
use my fingers as a revolution
outside of skin to an understanding of the brink
the loss of what I had

I have twisting sheets
a bed I lie into escape the need
the feebleness of my heart
I stand in recollection and devour insipid want

I came here
I stayed
I never left
but outside they are running
the grass cutting before them
you have seen her smile
and followed
ran through tall weeds
following her glowing outline
little bird twist
and see the flutter
I am here
thin lipped and corpse laden
this ripping shore
never letting me go
heavy
thick
a stone to keep the place
where I once was young
unraveled and dangerous
pretty girl
naked only for myself now

I have quit the moment
dedicated myself to older gods
who hate beyond time
and seen the sky open beyond black clouds

I have distorted my heart and eye
I was willing to give up the trees
to live in your name
but you slipped out the door when my back was turned

I have kisses like signatures
I have known you too well to love you
I have seen that black sky split open
and pluck your eyes to heaven

I have seen through to your internal script
I know thoughts as I know skin
and your skin I have known well
in the light of the only dieing night we need

I have seen you and I know
I know beyond the reach of temptation and skill
I know beyond the distortion of eyes
I know beyond my own carnivorous heart

I know

the flutter of little birds in grass

A Heart With Teeth

I like you better when you are
very, very quiet.

I still see your fluttering hands,
shuffling to the Devil.
Wiggling.
He is waiting with his mouths open;
Frozen.
Waiting for you with his hands swaying.
Waiting for you.
Crying.
He loves you,
more than I ever could.

Mad Arabs are running wild,
calling my name;
Beyond the city walls.
Saladin knows me,
as he knows this well below the city.
He knows me and I can see,
Christians in blinding armor,
wilting in the desert sun;
sinking into the sand,
lining the horizon.
Standards in the wind;
Futile men in futile arms.
I sit down at the pharaoh's temple,
and I weep;
I watch the cats take the souls of the dead.

I am standing in the creek.
Snow is falling all around me.
I jump;
send droplets into the frozen mist,
startling black birds to air.
My skin in veins of ice,
cracked patterns,
all blue in clear cedar lights.
You called me;
Ice maiden,
in colder pastures,
running on.
To the wintery kingdom,
I run on.

When the light hits me,
when my eyes are momentarily blinded in its' bathing;
I stare at the darkened faces of the audience,
looking for the recognition in their eyes.
In these moments I am a swaying goddess,
with my lips parted;
I am a glitter wound,
in the minds of the impartial parties,
to the reign of this queen in bone corsets.
Bone Queen.
Ice Maiden.
Desert Cat.

I am waiting for the night to fall,
so I can sneak out and feign normalcy,
among these crowds of happy giggling sycophantic lovers;
Staring glassy-eyed at each others mouths,
hungry for freedom.
I hate them.
I hate them all.
I kiss like glass,
pouring blood down your throat;
A predatory lover.
A burning crown of fiery points in my hair,
and I am calling God for you.
Calling for you,
in this snuffed out night,
Among these fools and righteous men.

Your words are all apologies and sugar.
You are pouring them in my ear,
flicking your tongue in and out seductively.
Every time you smile,
I make the wrong choice.
He's still on your lips,
I can taste it.
I can taste the reaching,
the being,
the eyes.
Your fingers playing drumbeats on my hips.
You want me to dream you;
Cripple you, little god.
You say,
"I like the way you smile,
when you hurt me."

I'm crawling to you now.
You rise up;
Angry.
Bury yourself in me,
up to the hilt.
Sometimes I want to be like you.
I want to leave you in the hands of these giggling psychopaths,
who will stroke your hair,
whisper sweet nothing into your ears,
kiss your eyes,
and drive their fists into your chest;
Searching.
Searching for your heart.
Stealing me with them,
one night after another;
Until I can finally find God,
so far away from your arms.

I am coming through the trees,
oh God.
I am coming.
I am coming for the light,
shining on me.
I can see,
the world stretching before me,
I am coming to die.
Old demon,
I am so rudely forced.
And I am coming to die,
at your feet.
I am waiting for your spark,
to burn the fucking room down.

I wake up and find,
to my disappointment;
That I still seem to be breathing.

City Verve

this City has robbed me of my feral joy
replaced it with
a dynamic of controlled movement
one place to another
all the same
sprawl
sameness
only the name differs

passengers with glass eyes
all silent
tongues like sandpaper
teenagers kissing in the corner
groping in the name of tectonic rightness
a little shift
and everything dies

in a moment of cruelty
it was all too easy
a beer can upside the head
faggot
and running
one shiver in the sameness
all dangerous
to tightly packed order

this place is breathing heavy
the tracks vibrating
a little metallic sex in public
holes in faces
in hearts
a click and a clack
wildness now ordered
to suit the days of the week
as we rush past it

a million hours
a million hours

because no one does
and no one will

Obsidian You

christ, but I was hollow

I thought touch was enough
between us
underneath us


I was wrong


I was on a mount
alone
mounted
and before me you cried
searched for me
cried

if I was a man
if I was struck dumb
blind

I would be nearer to you
shift my view
my point of view
I would feel nothing and it would be you

I would be you
I would be you

dripping down my face
you

you
only you
all you

obsidian obsession
only you

me but only you
you but nothing left of me

my name on your tongue
down your throat
swallowed christ, but I should die

you, blue eye
christ, but you too

Fire on the Mount

and the preachers preached

'the world;
she is ending.
See there,
fire in the trees, in the trees;
Fire.
Revelation.
God.
God's tongue.
Christ off the cross and looking to hammer some nails.'

bright orange flames licked the sky
off bough and branch
black smoke choked and chimed
and whirled into the horizon
like fingers reaching for the blotted out sun.
Son of God.
God's fingers.
Son of God, hair all fire.
A crown of burning thorns.

and the preachers sang

father are they coming for us?
do I hear angel's horns
or the sirens of ancient fire trucks?
Maybe salvation in the water
drowning in the river,
Baptize me in the name of nails,
Fire jump!
Fire jump the fire break,
Drop your gear and run, boy
drop your gear and run.

and the preachers cringe

they are burning knaves on the wooded edge
they are burning
and we are running
out running ash
falling from grace
falling from the fence line
and grace called our name
screamed
Fire!
Fire!
Look now,
Fire in my hands
in my eyes
all fire
Christ, but did it sting
tears streaming down my face
evaporating in the heated air
sand to glass and my feet bled
howling behind me
all flame with my name on its lips
Fiery lips with my name
my name
Firestorm
my name

standing in the pond
I saw them running
Preachers
hair on fire
God's wrath tasting their backs
nail in my hands
nails in my palms
soot painted on my eyelids

and the flames said
'I am Fire
and you are Wood.
I am the tongue of God.'

the sound deafened and flew over us
the world now orange
licking
underwater I saw it all
and know the name
inscribed on the sky
until the end of days
the black tracts of land
my home
my home now
in
Fire.

Christ,
just
say my name
and burn.