Sunday, December 21, 2014
how close do you remember the thunder storms?
the snow drifts?
the parking lot -
hotel room sex? how close do you still
in your heart?
one on one
nobody knows us
we cut the lines
hiding away- hide you away
we opened up veins - watch
me - watch you
I want you to open for me
how close do
lie your dirty heart
you still do ?
next to me
Sunday, December 7, 2014
but end up
split fire-wood to fuel the fire.
No secret I go where I shouldn’t , look where you hide.
Here is your chance to start thinking up the lies.
Im going to
say your name like I own you
how like our
every first time is our last time
you and those wintery eyesScratchy throat
whatever medicine in my head
messes me up
makes me miss
try to stay around
we are always always
Saturday, November 8, 2014
The sun over the rail-road tracks is a shiny dot. Heating up the air through the cooler weather we've had the past few days. A small relief now gone.
I'm out back in the warehouse receiving a large shipment of light fixtures. Load on, load off. In and out, in and out. The flow of product, the flow of money, everything is a flow of something, of love...of blood, of life.
The past isn't real. I warn myself to be careful of how treat memories. I squint through the sunlight it forces me to think of her, the time we spent at that old beach cottage. How it rained for two days and for two days all we did was have sex and watch cable on TV . Everything wet. When the clouds clear she is back from shore. She comes back shiny. She is sticky, salt-sticky, sex-sticky, too-much-sun-sticky.
Friday, October 24, 2014
You were the first and last thing on my mind.
Home from work. shower. a knock on my door. her face. her kiss. she tells me about her hectic day doing this and that and living with the thirst and hunger. So I order Chinese delivered. We sit on the floor in front of the T.V. eating from tiny boxes like in the movies. To hungry. To thirsty. For her. sex on the rug, wood floor creaking under us. Chop-sticks rolling down the slope in the old floor. So drink. So eat. So fuck. Any tiger says so.
Woke up early. Heard her in the shower. She was singing to herself. I could hear it, through the wall.
Sunday, October 5, 2014
“Every parting gives a foretaste of death, every reunion a hint of the resurrection.”
― Arthur Schopenhauer
October - My Birthday month, my Halloween cake, and of certain anniversaries- The death of us ever being anything but this.. hide and seek words read between the lines.
At least we have our ghosts.
Leave me signs in your poetry - in your photos.
Nightly visits to where I dwell. If I can never have you, then let me feel your presence. Deep. Let me fill your empty bones with hungry words and blood
music. Every road trip, Every night spent beneath the stars, every dirty bed. I'll think of you with me. fucking like new lovers. some first time feeling
haunting. when I am nothing but uncontrollable. when I need to use every part you. like every time is the best time. like every time is our last time.
Every birthday i wish for the same thing:
That this spell never ends.