Expectant

The guest list was set
along with the table
shiny crystal glasses
and waiters ready to serve.

The scene was opulent
stunning in the details
scraps of velvet stitched together to make
a chocolate, liquid evening

Time ticking, sinking deep
sadness making its rounds
curling up into my eyes
when the guests don't arrive

All suggesting the need for low expectations.

doubts

old songs read like a rainy day
coursing down the narrow inlet on my back
winsome, my arms unfurl
mocking the disbelief gathering in my eyes
unsure that anyone ever meant, "an awful lot"
or that anyone ever will again
songs from strangers being the only chance
anything else being too much to hope for
feeling the memories drip away
and the creep of resolved cynicism

green eyes

jealousy
comes from a threat to ownership
which is why i'm so defiant
jealousy
is easier than rejection
and confrontation

cozy little imagined boxes

Ten cents per line

Wanted:
An escape to superficiality. Mediocre music and personality a must. Thoughts not welcome. Poignant memories either.

Putting these fliers up,
staples to telephone poles.
What a defeat.
What a brilliant escape.
What a foolproof way to stop.

Life living past the tipping point.

accordidon't

boy with the accordion:
trying ever so hard
to make the fine lady
fall in love with him
alas, his skills are mediocre.
he will keep playing,
with his medicordion skills
until the fine lady
boots him away away
because he is annoying
sigh sigh

waterfalling

today, I would like to
stand under a waterfall
and let the beating water
pound, pound, pound
trickling around the curve of my ear
eyelashes forming individual spikes
crystalline.
sun spearing through
the jumping drops
and I feel a rippling in my soul
unburdened from the guilt of the day
small grime
sliding away
with a roar
leaving my being
alive with adrenaline
and open

When I'm Alone

In a dark house,
there's an uncomfortable feeling
coming from being the only one awake.
Without the reassurance of being alive.

A dim overhead light provides a dull glow
shaded by carved glass,
tinged pale rose.

Burning tears finally escape.
Caught up in the rush of life,
never pausing to think about the crosswords of the future.
Tiny boxes to be filled.

Someday the clues will make sense.
Life takes on such a new perspective,
when its reflective.

For tonight,
surrounded by overwhelming familiarity,
it's enough to hope.

Too much.

I wish I could find a large pair of earmuffs.
Ones that are enormous and red.

I want to muffle.
Shh.
Perhaps a pair of blinders, too.

All of this garbage,
Barreling at me.
Herds and hordes.

Sickening, uncomfortable.
Queasy, uneasy.

Earmuffs.
So I can be selfish.
And watch my own world on mute.

And not have to deal with you.

A small kitchen at 10:43

Grainy music sets the mood.

Hair: pinned back into rounded curls,
lipstick carefully applied, a bright red.

Cinched waist, wide skirt.

None of this matters,
because our hands are clasped,
and your hand is on my back,
clutching me tight.

Our feet step over the pale yellow tile,
reflecting the dusty overhead light,
spilling from above.

I can't see your eyes,
because we're cheek to cheek.

Inhaling the remnants of your morning shower,
worn cotton shoulders,
unable to see the dishes in the sink.

My pulse sways,
pulled along by the violin,
faded wallpaper.

Communication Error

I called out,
"Don't you know yet?"
Echoes down the tunnel.

You turned around,
smiled,
kept walking.

I walked faster,
feeling the coolness slip by.

I know I have already told you.

Your sneakers seemed to fly ahed.

I tried once more,
"Haven't you heard how I've told you,
everything?"

You turned around
and your eyes told me,
you didn't understand.

a light in the afternoon

easier than trying to think on everything
to isolate one beautiful moment
is miserably more convenient

to think on a reunion
or perhaps a well-lit tree

or that one moment today
when the light caught the leaves
almost setting the tree ablaze
glorious
which alone would be beauty
but together with the thoughts
already brilliant in their conception
combined to create a moment
inexpressible.

what I remember most
is how I wanted to call
and share that moment with you

Inadequate

I thought I had control.
That each day I woke up,
I understood the dew and the way the sun reflected through
Prisms.

When I stretched my arms wide, I was alone.
The world was a beautiful canvas,
and I recognized every stroke.

I saw the sunsets
and I took a picture,
added a caption
and dwelt in its meaning.
Blazing red.

How superficial.

Do you understand yet?
Riddled by my stories.

Life was a crisp, cool morning.
Directly after dawn.
But dulled.

My eyes, my heart
They show me the glory of a full day.
From the salty fog, to the burning sun.
To happiness that hurts.
Relinquished behind the spindly branches of a shadowed tree.

Because you introduced me to a life so brilliant,
it hurts.

I am a conformist

I am a conformist.

I enjoy the things you do.
I eat fast food: greasy, ill-mannered, unappetizing.

I fall under general American apathy.
And try to say something witty about not caring,
I don't understand the economy either.

I crave stereotypes.

Shiny, framed images.
Places I'm sure to find happiness, despite what experience has taught me.

I am just like the rest of you.

Leaning against the edge of my box and straining,
Looking behind and seeing familiar faces,
Learning that I'm not as unique as I used to be.

I am a conformist.

I arrive early, but don't leave early.
Sitting in my assigned seat.
I fill in the test bubble.

I fill the voids in life with cookie cutter people.
Sleek hair/bright skin.
Even as I look for the mistakes of the batch.

I am a conformist.

I don't jaywalk.
Green arrows equal permission. Permission equals go.
I like permission to go.
Falling in line, falling in line.

Obsessed with image.
Yours or mine? Leave that question stand.

I consider the herd before making a decision.
Subconsciously, of course.

This makes me a conformist.

I am a conformist because I can't take life for what it is.
I can't appreciate its unplanned value.
I repackage.
and I'm not happy when it doesn't rearrange into a Disney movie ending.

unexpected

I'm just trying to understand
What it is that is making life as it is

How it feels completely necessary to examine the smallest particle
in the knowledge that one small piece
is Beauty.

And how each bit of song moves me to tears.
The taste of sweet and sour.

The stitch in my side that won't go away
and I'm smiling, even when no one is around.
That's the funniest, isn't it?

I'm walking, in the cold.
freezing really
alone.
Yet.
Yet!

I am grinning. foolishly

fleetingly
this passing shadow isn't going to last forever.
I fill my lungs with air
and watch my body move with life
looking at the small burn about my right thumb

Reminder:this is a work in progress.

A Scene

Cornfields spread in thin lines
Underlining the expansive array
Of leaves
Thinly supported by twigs from the distance
Pillars nearby
Fans of red; alternating golden, orange, yellow, green
Opening up to catch the sky
Full of extravagant and majestic clouds
Bright and clean above
Shadowed below
All rapidly passing to the left
Scrolling
Leaving little chance to stop and examine
How one large photograph
Is actually many leaves
And broken branches
Kernels of corn

Morning

I was dreaming.
It was your presence I remember most. Wherever you were, I was.
Your presence against my back, your hand on my shoulder.
Protection, you know?
Now it's just convincing myself
it was
in fact
a dream.

a surprise revelation

it's October
and I don't know how this happened

one day the sun shone so bright
my jeans trapped the heat so tight
I thought I would burst into flames

today was rainy.
cold, dreary rain

not.
i repeat, not the kind for puddle jumping.
for that is a different kind of rain altogether, isn't it?

Somehow
in my still puzzled state
I'm baffled
as to how the unstoppable joy
(that I thought came with the sun)
has not disappeared.

Oh, I know!
it's because I'm still here with you.

whisper in my ear once more
run your fingers down my spine
be the one that I adore
let me know that you are mine

tantalize me, draw me in
show me things that I don't know
playing games that I can't win
as long as you will take me home

walk with me, side by side
with our fingers intertwined
show me what your world looks like
you know that I'll show you mine

Prologue

Lately, you to me, isn't as it used to be
It's as if I'm reading our story,
but it's too familiar
and I already know the ending.

However, do not wish for a happier tale
My issue isn't with the end
It's the boredom found within
and that omniscient sense that we fail.

After time, even your favorite books lose their luster.

story of a new life

each day
i distance myself from you
ahead
i'm lifting my face to the sky
muscles unbounded
arms out

how wonderful life appears
awash in the colors of dawn

i live free

questionnaire

how would it feel
to have me look in your eyes and see what was reflected there?

but what color are they?
mine are green.

similarities

picking
it's the movement
unleashed energy

in the hands, coursing through the hands
it's a quintet
but it breathes as one

frets
up down up down
every foot
up down up down

electricity

chemistry

what was there in the music
what was felt in the sound

listen for the echoes elsewhere
i can hear them in your eyes

A Stroll

The casual drift of the light
glancing upon the roofs of the trees
sheltering the dim undergrowth.

Pale gravel lining the striped roads
gracefully curving across the bend
gradually sloping over the water.

Lingering ripples on top of the surface
tapering beneath the scene
of authoratative and majestic foliage.

All centered by one distant sun
burning, burning downwards
blazing in glory to reveal the night.

A small thought

For under moonlit skies
It comes as no surprise
That on this borrowed time
You love me.

art

staring.
eyes open into the unknown
a small light haze
in the distance by nearby

we hear the echoes of our voices,
questioning
to reassure what we see

how much like life
reaching out
never really seeing what is there

at the end,
white flashes in the corners of our eyes
pulsing light

The hobby of Lying

It's okay.

Sits, bended.
In through the nose,
down down through the back of the throat.

It's okay.

Water dripping.
Sliding off,
rivulets down the hollow of his back.

It's okay.

Closed, vertical.
Blankets held tight,
tissues nearby.

It's okay.

Whatever you've heard, it can't be that bad.
We have solutions.
Marketing tactics to make your world okay.
It's okay, It's okay.

When do two letters become a word that means nothing?

Don't worry, this is meant to be blatant.
He's accepting of denial.
accept the tricks

I'll reassure you, with insincerity.

It's okay.

untitled

I can feel the pulse in my skull
thin beads
just passing through
grotesquely covering the blue sparks
blatant impulses buried beneath
sending thoughts to my toes
coolly detached from the emotion
that dictates where the feet walk
and the colors the eyes won't see
The world is my rainbow.
What color is blood?

He and She

Every day, he said to her
words upon words
Full of heartfelt gestures,
yet said with a smirk.

She always smiled
and took them as farce
But when she went home
she wasn't sure what he meant

He sat in his room, and wondered
if by repeating himself
Gradually he spoke the truth
head in his hands, thinking of the girl

In her home, she hoped
maybe, just maybe for once
He wouldn't be the one with smiles
and his eyes on one more, one other

Both unsure of the other.

any other sunday

when the nights were balmy
standing out on the porch
mild traffic
you played me songs, on the piano
over the telephone

i sobbed when i came back from that week
hearing our voices recorded together
how could i ever recapture that moment?

i lived outdoors.
you looked over, and grinned
and i stuttered inside, when you said you'd take me there.

why is this coming back now?

this is what they call pain,
and regret.
sitting on cold nights, thinking of others elsewhere
when once, i lay
stretched on the sand
listening to the waves and loving you

ordinary, alive

dusk
good music.
she felt the wheel

drumming, patiently
her foot thumped, echoes of the bass
across the seat

right of way
in the horizon
purples, and oranges, and pale yellow
hazed by stratus, nimbus...
distracted

squinting
you see her hair fall in her eyes
and breathe with her breath
track change
light change

faster, faster, wheels turn, beats, tempo

manual windows
a relic?
twisted down: breaking open
room for air
crisp, cold. unecessary air

open and free
the whoosh of heat, on the feet
windows down heat on the feet

she's alone
laughter, gasping
yells to the heavens

we're not sitting anymore
no, no my friend
we're moving
reds, and purples, and blues! let us see the stars.

the glint in her eye
abandonment

trigger finger on the wheel
her mind? on you

now, in love

now i'm home,
and thinking about the smell of pizza and wings
which before, made me think of him

now i think of you
and how i couldn't help but wishing
you'd move a bit closer

and i love the way, even though we both hate driving
you'll still drive me home

and i love the way, even though we both complain about them
you still love your sister, and take care of her

but i don't know how much i can give
all i know
is i don't want you to get hurt
because, i do love you

sick//politics

drinking tea
gnawing on cough drops,
foul scents.

watching the political news
general disgust, with pursed lips
your tongue glazed with medicine

blow your nose.
cough
cough
the anchorman analyzes

curled up in a blanket
our eyes close
blissfully unaware of the breaking news
of still uncounted votes

these votes don't have our voice
or they would smell of your sickness

raspy
and unaware.
the sound is lost, in the roar.

below standard

the thing is,
you don't even know.

we go out.

you know me, i know you
and yet here i am
writing words
sounding cliche
being exactly the way

i do not. want to be.
if only