you’re a good man saying the words just so you’re a good woman now artfully swinging the melody of your lips and you’re a good good man and those legs of yours washing the air perfuming the air with courage steadiness you’re a good woman turning away you’re a good woman saying no you’re a good woman wanting a good man you’re a good man for blaming nothing about nothing slipping into nonchalance so handsome with manners but you don’t want a good woman you want a something you want to conquer and place a flag on the back of an ass just to say you did you don’t want a good woman you want a yes woman a woman who never says no a woman who throws herself and wants to be thrown you want a good man good woman because love is so quaint so dainty when it’s artfully done yet you say no yet you don’t want to be thrown because good woman there is no good man and good man you don’t want a human being you could barely stand in your own humanness goodness is not love but love is good a recipe known to those who understand their own humanity

serving size

have a dream in a cup
well sugared
oh no sugar?
no sugar
have a dream in a cup
filled to the brim
too much?
not enough?
let it spill
cascading over your dry skin
feeling the wet
feeling the realness
of a dream
have a dream in a cup
foam kisses your lips
now you’re in love
let it seep down into your soul
let it graze the corona of your personal sun
and keep that dream in your cup
don’t allow it to fall into a void
don’t let it near a black hole
pour it out when you had enough
but pour it out over a mouth
don’t let your dream go to waste
let it nourish someone else
have a dream in a cup
and see the measure of your days

at the universe’s last ledge

at the edge of the edge
i couldn’t bring my toes to touch the end
at the edge of the edge
watching the ridges of mountains
and then with my hands
crinkled them between my fingers
at the edge of the edge
i couldn’t bring my body too close
at the edge of the edge
the waters static
the waters not giving off their usual fragrance
am i not real?
am i not breathing?
at the edge of the edge
an old man said
‘put your hands on god’s railing
and look down at the world’
but the world crumpled between my fingers
but the world made me feel unreal.

a discovery

within me something blue grows. spreads slowly. molasses in texture and speed. slowly, slowly. steady, steady. something blue grows within me. i swallowed the sky. the clouds evaporate through my pores. i’m blue- the ocean, the sky, the rain. blueness is newness and i’m blue, blue, blue. glug, glug, glug. i drink from my newly reformed wells. i painstakingly put them back together after the disaster that was heartbreak. brick by brick, stone by stone, my wells are newly formed. the waters have renewed themselves. i’m filling up to the brim but slowly, slowly blue molasses, sweetness has collapsed itself over me. something blue is growing and nothing gnaws within my soul any longer, its carcass driven away by the sea. i’m blue, so blue no longer sad. sadness is the shadow that used to follow me. now blue, from a seed, from something so small, landed within me. i am the sky, and the sea. the waters: rivers, waterfalls, bubbling brooks, all within me. something true is finally staying with me. tears are rains, and anger are thunderstorms; i now understand my atmosphere. blueness is newness and it grows within me. steady and slowly. i’m finally brand new. i have rediscovered me.


walking through unpaved roads, the trees, yes the trees break the ground with their roots- I am here
pacing myself, watching the clouds, the scent of cinders linger in the air, like snakes the smoke slithers but dissipates and the feeling holds me- I am here
stopping in the middle of the middle, a breeze waltzes along and the leaves with their round of applause loosen the feeling- I am here
cinders and left over rain crawling between cracks of a newly formed universe, and my soul ignites- I am here

a performance for ghosts

undressed, water rushes, the soapy lather, the lather into the curves, the water, the river into the crevices, and the prick of the bubbles popping, the eyes they follow, your eyes they close, enjoying those eyes that follow everything that is yours.
too well, so scented in the honeysuckle creams, so nice, very nice, the skin glistens so clean. clean sheets, clean clothes, the day opens its curtains, those eyes that follow close themselves away from you. your eyes don’t sorrow and see those other eyes waving a goodbye, a good show a very good show, you are never shy.
open books, crumpled paper, pens and pencils too. lavender creeps in the corner, the sage rises in smoke. everything you are, records you keep but those eyes only want your show, this and that, those winding rhythms you learned just for show. deeply in your heart you wait and wait. for a pair of eyes that see you in every other way.
your woman isn’t a soirée, she’s a fleshed out half god, waiting, always waiting, for a love that never arrives.

too obscene

chunks of leaf bitten off
teeth stained green
and a smile
the bitter taste feels real
the bitter taste is real

slathering mud over the lips
the rain left you something to sieve
and in it you feel
and in it you are

sauntering over the evening
the dusk is only a kiss
and a smile
the sweet taste feels real
the sweet taste is real

where have they all gone?
the morning won’t dawn
and you’re left asking the green
for a dance but your human is too obscene