overthink

nauseating
body-warming
exercise
of the morning
wrung me out

then i got a
little warmth
in me

& through
out the rest
of the day

kept
getting
warmer

Jail

These hands
won't come apart.
I'm strapped to the altar.
Your laughter casts a long
shadow over the sentence.
This time, our tying
together, let's call it
enough.
Weren't you put here
to make music?
If there is some ending
excepting me,
let it be your way out.
Through the bars
our hands come apart,

before you slide back
into the jealous dark—
how it always was.

gimmee your honesty

i'm sedating myself.
not worrying for once.
you thought about it.
told me what you thought.
it's unsettling.
our switched places.
delay diminishing.
no more need for wishing.
neck hairs bristling.
omnipresent blessings askew.
i'm full of color.
collecting my composure.
where to go i'm never sure.
but i'm going with you.

I WAS WRONG

about what i don't know but
damn it feels good to be fooled
bamboozled by your entrance
and despite that shadow that
followed you in after i swallowed
my boiling jealousy and let it
cook my nerves till they swerved
out my mouth into yours our hands
touching your eyes darting round
the lot to see if the shadow lingered
but again i don't care and again
i had it wrong all these silly songs
i've been stacking up must amount
to something you told me i want
to hold you all day and wish it
could be that way

calming myself down

it's clear how crazy

outta control clenching

my jaw waiting on you

to kiss just underneath

my chin i'm just beginning

my descent into decency

relinquishing control 

to you what a plan 

it's so damn unbalanced

i can't even begin to 

recalibrate so i think

i can handle this distance

helps me remember how 

little you probably

think of me
and how okay with that
i'm trying to be

Inseparable

the word snakes 'round my tongue.
a strict confection. a bruised band
just below my shoulders. in my arms

the nothing i hold now tightens itself
to my chest. the labyrinth of how to
get back to you disintegrates. i'm a

taurus with a stiff neck. can't look up
at the stars. can't waste in silence. since
splitting me open you went back to

the way it was. never asked how i was.
was it different, for you? could you tell
who i was? could you spell it out, why-

oh-you? the piano pounds my lungs.
my fingers trace outlines of once-
perfected space. see, where i'm from,

we breathe through the aberration,
grew used to switching hot and cold.
i can't use your excuse. fidgety fingers

extract a pulse. like so much crime,
it's on the rise. i better quit. were you
hoping you had nothing to do with it?

ready or not

here i, the sum
of my advances,
in my coat of
arms barely
reaching, breath-
ing irregularly,
articulating
the recipe
for equilibrium
using: honey,
the tips of your
fingers & a
selective memory.
i'm cooking
up something:
it's barely
edible, yet
my mouth
glistens
like blades
of grass
after a day-
long rain.

I Won't Call It Progress

Some other word will do—
an extant offering, plot ex-
plosion/erosion. Shifting
comfort zones. Barely
brave enough to utter
your name.
I'm ready— & sorry
you're not. It's amusing,
if you're looking at it
from over there.
Wind electrifies
my hair and I stare
at the mountains
in the rear-view mirror.
Then look toward you.
It's not even close.

follow what feels good

holy crud you have sunk your mandibles
into the flesh of my touchy existence you
feather plucked from the pore of an extra-
vagant bird you creepy-crawling light-loving
well-meaning winged wonder i'm so got damn
over-the-wall wasting away in your garden
smelling my breath or is that all just a spectre
hanging 'round my hopefulness the shape
of your legs draped over mine the dips
and bone-hooks of your back i am building
a map in my sleep ripping this spell out of me
sinking my feet into whatever wheels turn
furiously for aching six months pent up
and resisting onslaught of bitter thoughts
i lost my touch but you were there & found
it tearing pages from the far-within sigh
folding into close-held vehemence before
relenting to the stand-still of our mobius strip
kiss god i cannot say this any other way
you beckoned me then went & wrecked me
this childish limerence spins the worst
lullabies & every window is a mirror
without you softly sleepily laying across
my lap lasting for once i said to you
i wish that i could kiss you everywhere
and always the sorrowful bridge of fingers
collapsing as you pull away & glasses
getting stuck in your hair i am memory-sick
gluing the mosaic of our evening onto
dark-sky murals rippling with love-score
& maybe i am completely unchanged
but i will never forget who i was before
you said that can be arranged

nervous

in the course

of several hours:

hair-feathers
akimbo, a blimp

stuck in the throat

as you stay in 

the vicinity,

an unusual gift.

uninterrupted.

barely etching 

out the words 

to stretch my 

excitement. 

what's expected

i defer: what's

reflected i demur.

fold into my arms.

this hide-and-seek

slick story shit

is gonna be worth it

even if it's the last

memory we share.