Stars, your dance.

Stars, your dance I have watched
through lens, through my eyes,
with science and mysticism entwined.
And, still I fear there is some secret
not in your temperature, not in your size,
but in your plutonium heart and diamond veins.
If I ventured a guess in my mortal way,
you know man too well to speak his name,
for fear the speaking will change his fate
- it is not his fate you made,
but the one written in the book you read.

Hearing Your Words

Silver tongue and the runes
written in your smile
saying everything I've ever
wanted to hear.
How could I not love you?

Wax of My Wings

With solitude, your hermitage

a place like a prison, small.

I stood in it, sat in its tree-like boughs,

and dreamt a different future than this.

You were safe enough for me

not to try until my wings grew back.

I was a colder version of a phoenix,

no fire shot from my fingertips,

I had gone cold, but still I rose.

Now, in this unforeseen universe

I shape the wax of my wings on my own.

Fall Trees

The new red of fall trees
beginning to change here
for a week or more it's
been obvious they were
going dormant like hermits.
Sleep dendrite watchers,
now the stars in their longer
visits will watch us, chronicle
our foibles, success and
keep us safe with their glow.
These impassive eyes of nature
know the intimacy of our souls.

Breaking My Own Rules

And now my chest smells of his cum,
and my hand smells of his taint,
and he's gone home to sleep alone,
letting other people dictate how he feels,
how he should live a life of fear.

I know I should leave him alone.
I know I shouldn’t let him fall in that seductive way.
But, I won't, and it's a very simple why.
I could love him if he would let me.
I've said that many times before.

He won't go, and if he doesn't go,
maybe he'll be mine.

I could love him if he would love me.
Tell me that secret, whisper in my ear that I am not alone -
that I am not the only one feeling all this emotion.

I could love him if he would let me.
But, love seems to be some fleeting thing.
I have found it under rocks, in streams,
everywhere slowly flitting away.
It cannot be held, it is quicksilver.
It is the alchemical element that was never tested.
I could love him if he'd let me.

Your Secret Name

I wish now I could feel more numb
and forget how gentle feels again.
You awoke a sensation I didn’t know
had not died along with past things,
relationships, failed enterprises.
I fear your downfall, the Tower
you represent. Babel must be
your secret name. When you
are gone, I will be speaking
in tongues, dreaming in some
unknown universe.

You're Half The Man I Was

I believe I could be made of dreams
and you're half the man I was when
I was your age trying to become
everything I thought I wanted, now
I know it's better to believe than
to have anything you've wished for.
I haven't seen the movie you were making
back when we talked every day.
But, I'm sure it was good.
Sometimes I think this heart
was made to regret the best of times.
And, I want things that no one could make
despite all attempts to reclaim our
innocence we've only found some
new ways to hurt.

(You Are) Drinking Me Like Wine

You've never really been
beating your heart up again
for everything it lacks
the way it was made
I don't know why you fight it still

I will not be
the place you can
recover again
I'm tired of
everyone thinking I'm
the only answer
they can speak

There's another iron
the fire didn't spit out
are you ready to retreat?
I've been changing all
the locks on my heart

I can not be
what you think
it is you need
another soul
I don't know
drinking me like wine
"Maybe this time"
probably not.

Summer Air

The twist of Summer air
meeting Autumn mid-month.
Drink some coffee,
watch the leaves turn dead.
Slow air is a torture,
at Persephone's depart.
Like love abandoned,
but necessary.
Hold emotions at
arms length.
The only music to hear
has drifted away.
The wind chimes have
all decayed.
The twist of Summer air,
an exhale of life.

Silent Movie

His tears were the taste of a silent movie
and holding them in my hand I began to
see my way through the haze and smoke
of his old, leather heart.  He only wished
to find someone to love, like me.

But, his black and white visage spoke
in words I could not read on his heart.
Mine is too broken to see that far.
Eyes beholding only sad dreams,
bitter pills, numbing agents, flames.

Exploritas Corpus

If you’d given me a month
I’d proven it to you.
Every part of you,
I know with perfect truth.
Exploritas Corpus

Now, I want something
that I never had.
You’re not gone, but
you’re missing from my bed.
Exploritas Corpus

Your hands, your lips, your heart.
Exploritas Corpus

I miss every piece of you...
Exploritas Corpus

Fire Never Lasts

To something beyond pain,
the yearn that tears apart
all sense of hoping wonder.
Pandora's box within your
chest is the thing which
your heart beats against.
There is a slow burn,
a purification when passing
through the atmosphere
the comet for a moment
is bright and alive.
Fire never lasts.
Passion brings pain,
its ashes fallout that
infect the soul.

Oort Cloud Diamonds

If you had betrayed me
this wouldn’t have hurt.
Your silence is consent
to harm, withholding
closure and everything
you said you wanted
that I could give you.
I lived a month with
a few stolen hours
I sacrificed for.
Why not years, and
stealing all time?
My heart would gather
the diamonds in
the Oort cloud
in all the thousands of light years
it would take to have them
if I knew I could steal more time
with you.

Changes

Something of late in a changed smile,
half-hearted emotions, and a list of pills
that can cure you. It all rains down,
a hurricane of thoughts in your head.

We're missing verbs and nouns,
all the comprehensible parts
of life and speech and reality.
But, we have changes still.
To bring us pain,
to break us down.

The Runes On Your Iris

We finally made our bed
but, couldn't sleep in it.
I guess we never sleep,
anyway.

You asked for the future,
I only read your past like
something written in your
face, on your cock.

I am not in your dreams,
like I am only able to see
my love bursting, old friend's
parents dying in my dreams.

What does this mean?
The Fish and the Whale
circling 'round each other
looking for a way to stop.

I'll never tell what I saw
in your eyes one Sunday.
I could read your future
with the runes on your iris.

Poppy Fields

Bees upon the buds
I wonder if insects
feel the ecstasy of
opium in their veins.
Forget the slights of
blood and old loves.
All I want is simple
existence, dreaming
of the easy to attain.
Give me something
to help me forget.
Like the bees in
giant poppy fields.

Ancient Things/You Are Modern Art

I've studied old things
so much of the past I
know nothing of the present.
If your body was a ruin
I'd know every part of it.
Instead, with the modern
art in your chest hair
I've got new things to learn.

Ancient humans, their songs,
their buildings, their art I've
seen everything that's left.
But, you are something,
another way to erase addictions,
a thunder storm freeing ions.

Something quantum in your gaze
says I do not know where we
are headed, and history may
not repeat like a book written.

Half Way

Hope I do not reveal too much
I will bury it in the Earth.
Some elemental hide-away,
where my heart will go
instead of saying words I
might regret tomorrow.

Too many times things
have been on my sleeves,
and I've learned regret
from being honest, not
from hiding away like
everyone else seems to.

I've longed for the river Lethe
to come and bring some rest.
Cure some illness, restless
part of me that I cannot
seem to hold back.

Everything I write seems to
embody a restless spirit I
have not learned to control.
I've never done things half way.

What the Mountains Said

I wanted to write your name in the stars

standing on the shoulders of

the mother of the mountains

she said, there's no way to reach Orion.

I've been a wounded winner

for far longer then I knew.

Grasping for you, like everything,

if I don't let go, I lose again.

And here's the lesson I won't

learn, though they say I must.

We're all separate beings

and I can't melt into you.

But, what if the only thing I want

is to repair your broken heart, body,

with some care that never before

anyone knew how to give.

You have known far longer than I

how to die, when it comes time

I have a thousand things to learn

from you. I know I shouldn't think this way.

I know I should have other things to dream.

But, the mother of the mountains whispers

“You don't need them - you need him.”

She must be right, but I don't know how.

The Mother of the Mountains

Speak the Name
of the Mother of the Mountains
and you Shall
know her Face.
Before ancient Stone,
before Air vibrated upon Air,
she drank from
Creation.
Stillness within Stillness.
She captured the Moon
with her lovers-gaze.
To see
something you cannot hold,
that is the tyranny of time.

I'm in love, but not with anything.

Feeling lonely,
or am I just
alone?
I don’t know.
All these emotions
like someone else’s
dream.
I’m in love
but not with anything.
I’ll lie
you’ll bleed for me
and in the end
we’ll all think
it’s funny.
Maybe someone
won’t break me.
Yeah, I think
that’s the thing
I’m crying for,
tonight.
Pipes and too
much wine
have me turned
inside out.
Ready to go back
to being
inhuman.
No more emotion.
No more sympathy.

Climbing to the shoulders

Never solid, never whole.
Only wanting you with
a whole host of expectations.
Waiting for a man as tall
as the mountains to match,
look me in the eyes.
And there's the crutch,
climbing to the shoulders
of the giants is too high.

Quicksilver & Light

I do not know
how any light
escaped his eyes.
They were dark
and beautiful,
filled with
quicksilver and
a thousand stars.
There must be a
universe within him
I cannot see,
but I know
the brilliance
of galaxies
through his gaze.

Kelvin

A universe undone
(this is cold, this is Kelvin)
by all the decay time takes
and stops.

Within silence lives
(this is old, this is aging)
a solid universe we have seen
in dreams.

Air is stone.
Fire has stopped.
The End is Ice.
The Earth a Stone.

Whole

As solid air flowed
amongst the papers
strewn.  Hearts belonging
to ancient Greeks blossomed
and he knew the sound of love was
painfully loud.

I, the broken brother
of gods swimming in Lethe
watched and played on a violin
my sad lament to poor boys, lost
and struck by an insatiable desire
to not feel alone.

Hold on to whence hearts
have gone to feel their own beat.
I stood upon the maker’s shoulders
and wept at the flaws so delicately crafted.
“Man,” he said, “must always feel alone,
else they can never be whole.”

His Spring Face

His Spring Face

(every season I saw)

so similar to these mountains.

I climbed.

In the bloom of his smile

repeats Persephone. 

We were lovers,

she and I.

I Am One

These are the boys
who broke the Summer.
Shirtless, unaware
of eyes lingering on them.
These are the boys
who Winter called its own.
Like demons, something
otherworldly they rise above
this scorching skyline.
Mountains do not stand like
them and their proud faces.
I want one, I want to be one.
Until I awake and realize
I am one.

Embers

The flame has gone out,
but the embers are still
too hot to walk across.
How can the pain still
be so present, the burn
of your rejection, eminent
when I have exorcized you
from every corner of me.
I have let my strong defense
fade in the wake of realization
that I am still human despite
all my differences and desires
to conquer and own.

False Gravity

We were older then,
maybe sadder now.
False gravity said
we don’t know what
where we’re standing.
Now, you’re waiting
for the world to end,
and I’m just watching
waiting for your will
to bend.

Hope some love finds
your heart is not a stone.
I doubt the pain can ever
overcome the feeling of alone.
You will sit and wonder why you’re
never satisfied, with all the lives
that you will find.

Like Them

I saw the boys of Summer,
smoking on their cigarettes.

Their bare, smooth skin is
a parchment yet to be tainted.

And I, something different,
wonder if I could share their
smooth lips for a moment.

Let them blow their smoke
in my mouth, and taste the ash
still left upon their lips.

I always wanted to be a god
among men, but I will never
be anything like them.

I was Tantalus

When your heart has beat the new rhythm
(I have heard they all beat in the same time)
and the colors of the world change,
weather patterns shift, destiny flashes its lie before you
then you will believe
in the only thing that will teach you how to bleed.

I know, because I have been weak.
I know, because I fell from my own grace.
I know, because the colors have never been the same.
I know, because often I am still in pain and dizzy
from the blood loss, the sleep lost, the nights of
howling and coughing up regrets.

I have been suppressing feelings under old chemicals,
waiting for the next shift of my perspective to prove
to me that I am not what I think I am (a lonely fool,
doomed by my genetics to a short life, a lack of love,
knowing too much).

I used to think this unobtainable
would make me strong.  When the glass was held to
my lips, I knew I was Tantalus, and I was ready to be
thirsty for eternity.  But, that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.

Dentric Gaze (Under a Japanese Oak)

The Japanese Oak stood pink and blooming
waiting for another taste of photons and
dreams of immortality from writers under
its light branches.  I hope that it judges me
kindly, having seen and heard more then
I’ve ever thought a living being would.
The chairs have eyes, but no life.
Am I the only one who hopes that
living our lives under dentric gaze
means we are not alone?

Forget the Words

When he hides what I used to hide
and keeps a watchful eye on me,
because he knows I know,
I wonder if he feels any pain
or if he has forgotten how to bleed.

When you sleep too long, and too deep
(is this just a coma of the soul?)
nothing feels right for days, and him?
I fear the years he will have to wake
up to find are all wrong.

Could I kiss him?  Take that moment
and give him some simple surety
that he is not alone or wrong?
Everyone else knows, and they’ve told him.
But, I will tell him with my mouth.

Forget the words.

I am Sure

You would think that
after this any years I would
know something, have something
to show for all my time spent alone.
There is still a secret
I cannot seem to tease out,
it sits like a pebble in the soul of my soul.
Goddamn all this love,
I am sure it comes from an old lover.
I am sure I still love him.

Their Skins

I have seen these boys
with many skins, they
wear them out, but do
not let them go. Snakes
know to slither away,
these boys stay sad and
hide within their husks.
Even if they are wearing
masks they are not telling
the truth, they’ve learned
to lie even with them on.
These boys with many
skins and disguises I lie
to keep them happy,
I cannot tell them they
are kindred of mine,
this self-preservation
device I have inside
to read the signs and the
symptoms of my kind has
told me everything I need
to know about the bend
of your wrist, the fold of
your legs, the look in
your eyes when I reveal
everything in a way you
have always wanted to.

Something Only Human

Suppressing old sighs, and emotions
that intensity suggests are not all mine.
I once believed in loneliness, but now
with all that time has created within me
I can only see that I am the only company
to keep (and slow emptiness is the cold
creeping doubt that plagues us). Pandora
only some little bit of the last curse
was let out. We few beings, the mud of
the Earth, newly formed to seek love
have you ever seen the comets far
above where we have landed?
I can only hope that this still loneliness
is something only humans feel,
I would not curse the stars or moons
with this creeping death.

A Heaven is For

When you have stared so long
that colors have changed and
your broken heart has become
the foam-crest of the waves, I
shall still find some love in my
heart to bear for you.  Where
not to love is the only great sin,
there I shall repeat the words
I so often whispered in your ears.
Strange emotion will overcome
in the otherworld, I believe, even
our greatest fears of our selves.
I believe that is all a heaven is for.

Before Words

Long before I spoke
(perhaps before words)
and things did not have
consequences
like hospitals
like needing needles
and an army of pharmacists
(and people in scrubs
all the same color)
there were still demons
and the Sun still shown
at odd angles and didn’t
keep away some kinds
of darkness or sadness
or lostness or the hardness
of making yourself a stone.

Rooms of My Chest

I once painted the rooms of my chest
the colour of you, and in them I dreamed.
And, knowing dreams are real I told them
to you in the morning on your bed.

With you so intimately within me,
how could I expect you would be
so easy to remove from these deep
places and deep thoughts?

I have painted over you a thousand
times, but that did not remove you,
it only cemented your memory in.

So, perhaps rooms and walls are
the wrong thing to have.  I should
have an open field, somewhere to
be a hermit, but in the Sun.

When They See Through Mountains

I wonder what he sees looking through that window
at me, I am on the other side of it, but it only goes
the one way, he must see his reflection, if the laws
of physics and optics are to be believed at all.

But, some part of me hopes that he can see me
through that glass and more then see me, perhaps
he will look through my skin and this mortal shell.
Perhaps he will know something about me intimately

without an explanation, or the sort of knowing that
comes from reading someone's writing. I think, though,
that that may be the sort of knowing that only gods
are prone to when they see through mountains.

If I'm to be seen by anyone today I must brush my hair
(and by that I mean nothing physical, I think you know.)

Starlight then is Lonely

Of the state of Silence
(that which you hear in Deep Space)
I know little, but what I am told
by distant starlight and
the feel of dark matter against my skin.
A caress, ears craving something in
their frequency to hold, not hallucinate.
To set those electrical patterns
pumping, pumping, pumping
vibration and nerve signals
deeply into the mind.
Starlight then is lonely.

Lemonade and Scorched Earth

some solid mass
formed of the ethereal
that had coalesced
into a man

drunken on power
inebriate of beauty
addiction follows
through the doors of vice

and still sanity
enamored of
the world of forms and emptiness
labored for a voice

but watching this
I took no part
just drinking lemonade
and dreaming of scorched earth

The Height of Entropy

The essence of a man
distilled in honesty
awareness disarming
thought of height
The essence of a man
described in absentia
to yield unchanged
unchained to cerebian fear.

Tread lightly man
you were the height of distance
between particles of entropy
and whispers in the empty ears
of the Phenomenal Woman
Primeval Witness
Distortion of Phenomena
Awakening
and Birth.

Temperance

There is still some sunset left;
a sliver of undarkend sky.
Some glimmer of hope
that is, perhaps, a reminder
the sun will return.
(And, perhaps crisp the skin
and bleach the bones of the Earth.)

Especially here among the Rockies
where day and night are so precisely separated
and the seasons move ahead in jerks of temperature
there is some tendency to take sides
on this unending cycle beyond our control.

I think perhaps the ghost of temperance
now looks over my shoulder speaking
something between a whisper and a shout
looking for the ally I cannot be.

I am a product of the human race,
prone to my extremes of thought
and rash action, but I can strive.

The strangest things are inherited.

I wonder if time knows of decay or if,
it being the constant by which we reckon our lives,
it is eternity like the stars, fixed in their places
on the crystalline sphere far away we can see
but never comprehend.

I looked at myself in the mirror today and realized that
even if he is a conservative and cannot understand
how I want to live my life, or what I do when I'm alone.
Nor can he comprehend my rebellious streak
(the one that goes against society, not particulars,
he could never understand particulars)
or my propensity for intellectualism
(an -ism among others he chooses not to subscribe to).

But, even with all these differences, today I realized I looked like him.
I walked with my toothbrush to the front door to close it
after the dogs had come in, and when I returned
to the bathroom mirror, I held my toothbrush
the same way he did in his mouth, I remember.
The strangest things are inherited.

I don't think he would understand this, either.

Lightest Snowfall

There is part of your memory now mixed in
with the lightest snowfall I have ever seen.
Driving slowly past your street listening to music
(not your favorite,
but I could never find any you didn't like.)
and wondering if everything that happened has blame to lay
at my feet or at yours.  I like to think we all break our own hearts.

If, if, if, if, if,
but the past changes everything.
Even when the power of your deep eyes over me,
your stories of things I never wanted to go through,
the mixxed up half truthes that fluttered around my head
in a time when I'd rather take a few shots of anything
then think too long on where I'd got to.

How can these singular snowflakes evoke
memories of us when we were a Summer love?
Everything I see is conected.