LOVE

For some, love unfolds like a silk blanket 

over freshly mown grass 

on a balmy June day.
For some, love rolls out like a red carpet 

to blaring trumpet music 

and flying rose petals.
For some, love is built plank by plank, 

bravely joining two lands 

and making them one.
For some, love is like a 5th grader’s secret note 

having been forgotten in the pocket of her jeans

washed and tumble dried 

into a thickly layered chunk.
When unfolded, only deteriorating, indecipherable, 

light blue BIC pen hatching or question marks remain.
Dust and bits, 

dust and bits. 

Lint and confusion 

covered in 

melted strawberry 

chapstick wax.

It started with your hand on my cheek

It started with your hand on my cheek

It was warm

And it sung

It ended with your hand on my cheek

It was hot

And it stung

And in between 

An army of scarlet banners waving

In the spotlight, Gaslight, 

Your best friend described the love of your life 

who was not me 

but looked like me

apparently

The one you told me 

liked it when you hit her 

She asked for you to hit her. 

And I felt sad for her 

For you, for the things you said she made you do

So when you reached back way back reached back to your childhood back back back 

to the first naked humiliation 

reached back further yet to your father's and his father's pain 

and wrapped your fist around it and made it fly across my skull

I knew. 

I knew

You were back back back 

with the love of your life 

And practicing that ritual that was at your disposal

With her

And trying to practice it on me at the same time. 

Tomato Thieves

She dug in the dirt daily
her knees perpetually swollen, red
I came on Saturdays to dig till sundown
Silent or singing
until
hands washed and wine uncorked
until
knives out chopping fruits of our labor
onions, peppers,
garlic, cilantro
and almost too few tomatoes
for our salsa
to sit and share
I begged - there must be some way
to keep the rabbits
from stealing your tomatoes,
no?
She smiled, sipped her wine and said -
If I want tomatoes Dear,
I can go to the market

gah

sometimes

i feel

like a

butterfly

on a 

very 

breezy

day

45

want
i want
more i want
wanting more

through less

less mayhem
less chaos
less paper
less vapor

from mouths
exhaling more
when silence will do
from you

san francisco nights

sometimes i reminisce
about that life in the darkness
all cigarettes and whiskey
soul yearning, screaming
from neon fire escapes
into graffiti alley valleys
lost keys and skinned knees
with smoke rings
and shoe strings
tying down dawn

BREATHE

I was born very young

Entirely too young

And I have been waiting 
my entire life 
to be precisely here

I have caught up, slowed down

The bubble almost center in the level

The pebble before the avalanche

All plates spinning with whispered welcoming

It's the moment of hanging over the canyon

Blink, blink, wave

Wiley I am, go, LET GO, Let's go

Surrender to the undertow


I'm awake, I can breathe

Fitting my body, MY body

See how this book cradles perfectly in my hand

This fork rests perfectly in my mouth

This hand encourages from the small of my back

Resistance is a currency with no value

I care enough

And dare to say 24 hours are enough

7 days are more than enough

A lifetime will always have been enough

With nothing, no thing, left undone