Pretty Bird

I remember you.

These days still

From far.

Your wings

Spread young and wide,

Lustrous black beneath

The playground moon.

Every breath was a

Full one,

In the woods as children,

In a tree house with wings

And memories like dreams

Soaring painstakingly.

Your face was stitched in

Those leaves of color

As though you painted each

By hand.

Before the wind took you up,

I remember you.

I remember being so afraid,

I was so terrified

Of wanting to remain

In one place.

Away from the rain storms,

The little holiday villages

We imagined as Home,

The long drives and

Rooftops, or

All of that laughter

We built around one another

Like glass.

The best silence is in knowing.

Wherever you go,

Wherever you land.

More Full than Not

Last night you saw inside me

And when you opened your

Soft mouth-flute

And I heard your

Cozy sounds,

I knew I would never leave.

The first time

I heard your laugh,

Old man

I knew it would not take me long

To turn you back into God.

If someone asked me

To put you into words

I would choke a little,

Stumble and double over

and say

Such an exquisite taste

and

Every time you touch him

You become lighter,

More refined.

Bright-Eyed Night

I once knew a man

Who had nothing and did not care,

What he wanted

Was all he felt,

And by the dusty streetlamp light

That filtered through his blinds

At night

I loved everything he was,

I loved him because I thought

Him to be powerful,

Strong.

One man deep he laid me down

And showed me I was a woman.

Those days my eyes were

So full of needles, So full

Out of focus and foolish but

Bright.

And he folded his body

Above mine like clockwork,
Hot eager leaves
Spread wide and holding
Hands moving fast.

Wishful thinking did not

Yet exist, I was too

Busy

Giving myself away

In the night on an armchair

With a cigarette

And a taste for excess.

He, always staggered by
His own luxuriance and
I, never for lack of youthful fervor

And desire,

The desire in my pores dripped

And slithered

Off my skin to soak into

His,

And all I remembered,

Wanted,

Craved

For so long was the heat.

It burned away the ache of day,

Those nights,

They paused

The relentless march of age,

Of Reality.

Soon the heat turned to steam and

Burned off everything.

Burned off us both like blisters,

Peeling

Little flakes, falling away.

I woke up one gray morning,

Makeup still applied and smeared wide

From sex

I crawled onto the cold tiles

Of his bathroom while he slept,

I looked at the tequila bottle

With its missing cap

And mocking shine

And I knew he was not strong.

I cried and I knew I was weak,

That I was far too young

Too young to want to grow up

So fast,

So fast by his pudgy hands.

I wanted to grow older

Overnight

Through believing strength was

Loving yourself so much,

You did not care about wanting,

You just felt whatever you

Wanted to feel.

Too young.

Too young to think

I knew shit about

Anything,

Too young to be "strong,"

Because I wanted everything.

And on this night

I have nothing,

But I do care.

And I know now more so than ever

What it means to love,

To grieve

To grieve for the grieving,

But still I am weak

Because on nights like these

Still I envy that man,

I envy him for having no excuses

For his weakness,

For not knowing better,

I am so much more than that

Yet I continue to ache.

These nights the heat has fled

Age has finally caught me,

And In my bed are

One thousand

Emptied bodies

With hollow eyes once bright,

Waiting for the flesh to be picked

From their cracking decrepit

Bones.

Black Moon Swan-Woman

A riddle of magical gems and

River shells, She is sprigs of rosemary and

Brass wind-chime earrings with those

Beaded, ornamented limbs and

Caramel skin

So lightly draped beneath the burn

of Harvest moon.

Wild mane of copper fire hair

Her deer doe eyes take you in

Squeeze madness sugared into your

Blood and spit you out

Something else entirely.

Earth goddess roams the

Apocalyptic shadows that

Even the most

Rational and scholarly of minds

Hide

And seek,

Unknowingly She is such a

Stunning beast,

Culture wars fought and raged over and

She alone is

Such a seductive and perfect destruction.

Glowing and gold and black and

Feathers which so gracefully match

The water's dangerous depth

Revealing the endlessness, the

Inevitability of a sex

As beguiling as death.

You know her by her fragrance

She claims lovelessness as her own

But she is never less than love nor

Is she worthy

Of anything but.

Her teasing flames movelessly cross along

My skin like leaves shading,

The luster of her shoulder blades and she is

Moonshine throbbing

On body and on high.

She is my own personal and

Beloved

Sorceress of high summer or

September,

October,

the Fall of one thousand autumns and

Even in winter her colors do not shed.

She is where I flee

These nights that I do not know myself,

I know nothing but my urge to run.

Offshore

Sometimes my dreams are laughable upon
Waking, illusions that fool me
Into the romance of heartbeats and breath
Oh, the cleansing breaths
and ribs that feel and crave touch, but
Please remember me,
Happily
With bruises on my pelvic bones,
the time we counted
Every car passing
and almost got caught in
the kitchen.
Remember me fondly.

Sometimes I think I weigh too much and
Read too little--
but who has the time for such frivolous,
Joyous delights?
Don't let me down, old friend Doubt,
I will self-pity until
the rooster feathers roll out
With the tide
and I have nothing else to
Rouse my brief REM sleep of rainy mornings,
Don't let me down.
The nerves have departed me and
When the light leaves my windows
I see my skin the best.
Flushed and bubbling,
a lot like swallowing.

Sometimes we can't find our swords but
I like those nights the best,
I've lost myself one too many
anyway- Generic and dead,
Dead energy. Swirling wild in the
Hill-country heat, an invocation of
Those too weak
Too weak to wake, too weak
To die.
How far is the sea?
Maybe if I don't stop
Running I will find the shore
Before my intestines erupt.
No one knows anything for sure,
They say
that's the appeal
But as far as my own certainty, or
Our collective integrity goes,
It was that day a molding
Piece of shit in the sun.

The day it finally rained

I saw an old man with owl eyes

Today outside of the market

A nearly blind security guard

With a canary colored poncho

The slow movements of his head

Traced his erstwhile grit in duty

He not-quite smiled as I bustled by

Nonchalance a plenty

Thoughts in waste and a hands-on mind

I nearly flirted with him

Just to scavenge a gentle glow of pride

Because no one does things like that anymore

No one takes the time

Onward toward my destination

Under an electric crackle sky with a finger sack

I wish now it had gone differently, I wish

I had turned back.

Convinced

Complacency

is not fine by me, is not

some catchy tune whistled

softly by my ear, and yet I

succumb to the fall

of my own blows so much like,

as yours.

The hammer crash into the walls

breaks thin plastic cracks into

my own

stretched tight skin,

Only we are so much more

than this

but we let it go.

Too much in one direction

not enough in the other.

We are better than this,

better together and when it all

slips away

We are not perfect nor will we

ever be, but our love for

one another is enough.

Isn't it?