the first firework spark i felt
brought you straight to mind,
hot and poignant, real yet fleeting.
a burst of something powerful yet delicate:
the commodity of beauty should be
a prerequisite to all things.

when recovery means washing yourself of
the grease of humanity or
collapsing inward into sleep
suddenly different lines of life become
very clear...
 drawn upon ragged scratch paper
and all starting from the same form of source -
 a point, a pinprick -
yet it is not light we are born from, but
darkness
and a familiar darkness to which
we will all return.

are we are so busy hunting for something we pretend to understand
streamlining the same stark landscape
that we rarely see one another
with the fire of clarity?
we rarely stop to scan the scenery
for soft bits of peeling birch,
snapshots of powdered moss and crumbled pebbles
so artful in
their decaying, vibrant splendor.

i can't seem to clear my throat of the madness
the sickness of yesteryear,
and in the wee early am on January 1st
i scrub off my makeup rough enough
to raw my cheeks -
rubbing 2011 from my face
and ignoring the endless ache of cold
creaking in my old bones beneath
the sparkle of celebratory war paint.
i have turned on the closet light for
the new months spilled ahead
but i have yet to give in and lick my fingers clean,
scoring the mess of months that pervade
my garden of organs and cells.

i cannot promise you the wholeness
of Eden because
i am not made of light,
but to me you remain a bright spark
of something real in this duplicity of time
when each hour is a knock on death's door
and we're all smashing down the walls attempting to
bare some lightweight joy
and make a clean free break.
the water in me will forgive the crevices their
flaws,
you only must unfold and open
your invisible cities with sincerity.

let emptiness be your cure and not
your ailment.
let wayward streets be damned by the
gorgeous dark wilderness of you contrasted to
the light of one smile,
your smile is the sun
and fallen folks like me, we need the sun.

one morning i will wake up
to your face planted right against my own,
and another morning i wake up
with another shot at life
is another good day indeed.