You Shall Only Know Love by its Absence
Water and blood like your poetry works
When I finally push against your breast
With my ear as if to gather your heart
Of words returned of all but rhythm
When in blood you remind me to my life
As we feed paper boats to currents run
On tiny racing bounds of dream-laughter
The kids in reservoirs of endless cool
In striding Los Angeles veins capering
In miracles kids do without knowing
In the words they call over bare oceans
In echoes run like naked concrete now
Returned in singing to gabble tidepool
Of life as something laughing forever,
Like mother, father, and child existed,
Saint Monica said, Before. Ever. Was.
Tilt the Holy Neon
We go in a giggle of ghosts
Unbroken and tilt the holy neon
Clock-wheels of color, in other words,
As these and other worlds go verb
And vowel licking distance in light
You hide within your vastness flight
And gossip my whole universe in stars
And two of everything, at least you know
How odd identity is and posing
In the light, gabbing all the time and what
In the primeval sense we always touch.
We may see patterns and can be afraid
Of love, identity is still the fox,
Eyes glowing, talking dreams, our planets
Maybe a million years dead already,
Or stars that die tonight. A light just ghosts.
Gold, Love & War
Words. Like in the beginning,
A moral for us of course,
As children laughing lay
Shock in a paper mirror,
The plot twist, in the end.
The last page is a foil.
Before that laughing okay,
And blowsy I scuttled wood
And leaves, pages flew
Gold mouths describing everything
Wings high on lexiconography,
Words. Mom and Dad
Read and read and ever drunk
On distance I just listen for poetry
As they eat the books and spit
Words. The secret is ink,
The voice of my mother a ghost
Of night and I fall asleep so close
To the fire I breathe and wake a dragon,
In pretty words I promise
But now my heart is smoke
The silence my silence and
I go dreaming on and dream
Words. Maybe I woke up
Spells like a talismanic
Magic curses me and maybe
Cures me too. I knew
Words. What isn't about love?
Is this book as big as I fear?
Is my heart as big as I must?
The spine is broken with
Words. Gold, Love & War.
So mine is a story of ours.
The last page is first.
God and devil arrive all moons
Rising in the seasons of
Dreaming a dream king,
Words. Dead that walk away,
In my voice when I speak
In verse the forest burns
And where do I see my face
But as they walk through me
Into every reflection?
Moral. The end. Light.