I've never felt at home because
I've never been at home. I've always
Gotten by, clothed in
Borrowed lives
Not quite my own.
Like a hermit crab, I stay the same
At the core and when I've grown beyond
The shell that graciously did house me,
I crawl outside and for a moment
I am free, but curious and
Lonely.
So,
I see an empty shell and take a turn
For just a while; take advantage
Of the way that those around me
Seem to find some comfort in
The vague familiarity of what I wear,
Though still they're distant.
And then, just when I realize that it's really not
My own, this life, I quietly back out
And move along. Say goodbye
To those I'd loved for real but who
Had loved the semblance of another
Wrapped around me, and pieces break
Off of my heart and soul,
But at least I've lived two dozen lives,
At least, while those I leave behind
Are stuck in one.
Wednesday, June 26, 2013
Monday, June 10, 2013
You stop my breath
You
stop it, and you re-infuse me with it
Every
time you come close to me, every time
I
hear your voice
Either
in my mind, through the door,
In
the room, or in my ear;
Or
below me,
Moaning,
growling slightly,
And
my breath returns and joins and
Outpaces
yours,
In
screams, in never-allowed-out
Bursts
of joy.
When
we lay together, we breathe
The
same
Pace,
did you notice that? The same,
In,
and out,
After
the in, and out, of the body
And
the soul
And
the heart, or at least mine,
Watching
your face as you tear at me,
Watching
my fingers in your hair
As
I shudder against you,
Over and over,
Over and over,
Holding
on for dear life
Like
it was the last moment on earth for me,
And
it would be completely
Okay
if it was.
No,
much more than okay.
And
god, the light:
It
pierces through my brain from my belly
Where
you are
And
I watch you. Every move.
Every
hair on your head,
Every
curve of your
Beautiful
face and your mouth
And
your back and your legs
And
your arms.
They
hold me so strongly I forget myself
And
don’t care about much else
But
that
So
I hold on tightly, but lightly
Knowing
you must go
Probably
sooner than later, but god,
The
NOW, the you, skin pressed to me,
In
to me, the voice I long for all the time
Now
vibrating through my body
Will
be the last thought
The
last vision
The
last smell and sound
That
I hold with me
When
I die.
Sunday, June 9, 2013
You are (not) in fact
They've calmed, the throes of
Wanting as this thing has leveled out
A bit onto an unknown, indefinable plane
All its own.
And it is always there: the floaty space
Between my head and heart, while
The other two transverse the real-er
Planes of existence.
I breathe deeply, and I feel you
All around me,
See you when I close my eyes,
And hear you as I fall asleep.
And you course through the veins
Of my existence
While you are in fact,
Physically,
Rarely here.
Wanting as this thing has leveled out
A bit onto an unknown, indefinable plane
All its own.
And it is always there: the floaty space
Between my head and heart, while
The other two transverse the real-er
Planes of existence.
I breathe deeply, and I feel you
All around me,
See you when I close my eyes,
And hear you as I fall asleep.
And you course through the veins
Of my existence
While you are in fact,
Physically,
Rarely here.
Wednesday, June 5, 2013
Meditation
In the cooling of the night
The fright should wash away, but
There are darknesses we have not reckoned
With; remind us of the plight
Of mortals, humans; who are we?
We soon forget allegiance when
The ugly face of fear, it rears
Itself, but if we're silent, flees.
The fright should wash away, but
There are darknesses we have not reckoned
With; remind us of the plight
Of mortals, humans; who are we?
We soon forget allegiance when
The ugly face of fear, it rears
Itself, but if we're silent, flees.
Sunday, June 2, 2013
Genuflect
Sometimes
you get down on your knees.
Forehead
to the floor,
Hands
writhing, palms to the sky,
You
surrender.
I
am there now, willfully.
Beautiful
things flow between
The
pleas, the will,
And
the wants
And
the noise begins to quiet.
We
have all been there before.
Forced
there by dreadful
Circumstance
That
shouldn’t be more
Than
a memory but the body
Recalls
that you’ve been there
Before.
But
before, the agency was reversed.
The
floor smelled acrid
While
it now smells sweet
And
forgiving
And
you
Are
free.
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