I really think

That in spite of myself

You have neglected

To comprehend

Who I really am.

I'm finally

Reflecting truth

But your eyes are blind

You don't see me

You see what you

Need to see

So, all of me

Prepares to flee

And hide once again

Beneath a blanket of lies

Keeping me warm

From your notoriously

Frigid nights. 

Beware

All who enter here

I am a black hole

I will consume whole

Without chewing

You won't know

Until you've already

Digested. 

"It's so beautiful,

But so empty,"

She said,

As we walked

Down 15th street.

She meant the street

She meant the city

She meant the descent

Of autumn on

The northwest.

She didn't mean me

But I felt it,

And her words

Lingered above my head

And weighed me

To the pavement with

Every single step.  

She couldn't remember

a time

When so frequently

the sky had been

occupied

by both day and night,

When so often

sun and moon

could be seen

courting hand in hand. 

I keep in my hands

Things I can't understand

Things I can't let go

I keep in my hands the

Things I need to control

Things that control me

These keys

This lighter

And a cigarette

And a cup of coffee

And this cell phone

Space. I hold space

With my hands.

Reserving it

Like movie theatre seats.

I keep it for

A certain heart,

I will keep in my hands.  

I wait for night to fall,

It's earlier these days,

In so many ways.

Merlot to close out

Harvest,

Readying for a long

Hibernation.

The night will hit me

And I'm sure you'll forget me

But I watch you, always

Ascending in beautiful light

My shadow observes from a distance

Trying to grip onto what may be beyond this

My senses fail to favor me and I go blind

Losing sight of what I had needed to be mine. 

It's a lovely quiet

Inside the space of your arms

Where all I hear is

The light

Consequences of your chest's rise

And fall,

And a gentle steady beat

Of heart. 

How small the space is

Now between our faces

How heavy and silent

Your complicated breath

How graceful and light

Eyelashes dance in delight

How quiet the air is

All around us

How entranced is my being

By your everything.

CrazySexyCool,

All of the sudden

I'm 14 years old

Reading CD liner notes

Creep

Obsessing over my first one

$13.99 at Coconuts

Listening through headphones

To my Aiwa stereo,

Diggin' on You

Gift from my twelfth birthday

Playing a crimson-faced disc.

And I'm sick with infatuation

Let's Do It Again

For Left-Eye Lopez -tattoos,

More than just rough

Around the edges,

Sexy and tough.

Fast and nasty with lyrics.

Sumthin' Wicked This Way Comes

My head bobs and body moves

To the beats and

Busta Rhymes

Switch.

My dad hates the way they sound

And screams at me to

"Turn that Jungle music down".

Half-lives and

Exponential declines

Rate of change

Declines and deteriorations

Foster

Expiration dates 

If there had been more to say

I would have said it

Without a word

Just a glance

How do you know when

You are a writer?

When some school hands

You

A piece of paper

Saying you spent four

Years following orders

And a professors yammers?

When you've written

A poem , story, article

Or two?

Or when you make

That ever seemingly important

Transition from unpublished

To published?

You know,

When your obsessive tendencies

Become oriented to the task.

When your hypochondria

Keeps you awake at night

With thoughts of,

"If I go blind, I won't be able

To use a computer, or edit, or word process,

Am I going blind??"

And

"What will I do if I develop

carpal tunnel syndrome??

And your neurotic answer

Churning inside your head

Is any number of solutions,

Satiating the sole burning

Fire that drives your very being.

That's how you know.