Wednesday, October 9, 2013


you looked at me like fall light
always askance, never direct
with a warm golden linger
that relieved the harsh summers
and so I always seemed to warm to you
golden by refraction, diffuse.
you fed me through hibernation
folded into me like the break
rushing back to equilibrium
in the wake of a gliding sailboat
dynamicly cresting and enveloping
the hiss of evening.

in silence we buzz
in stillness we crumble.

And soon it will be winter in your heart
and too in mine
and it will seem serene
blanked over in fresh flakes
a canvas for angels
that mask the ache of decomposition
festering below on concrete
before melting into sewers
into ocean
into spring.

and still
when I hold my breath long enough
if i exhale I still smell you
coming out of me
and in the sweaty mingling of other bodies
i taste you still
it's been two full moons since
we've connected
but i've counted the time
you've been gone in blood shed
from body and onto sheets

and still
there are people on the train
that if I squint my eyes hard enough
and remember how to dream
I see you
in the myopic horizon
where eyelashes flutter
and perception is truth.

And the fog rolls in
with the dewing of the dawn
and the rain begins its fall
and a single leaf will tremble
shaking silence with its shiver
as it learns to let go--
to fall/light
And I swish coffee around my teeth
turning them the color of the ground
the gutter dribbles
as I swallow
and think not of you.

Tuesday, October 8, 2013

dead plant.

there is a plant that sits on my coffee table.
it is the plant that my mother sent me
when you went away.
she thought that i needed to take care of
something else
so that I could learn how to take care of
myself again
She did not realize that I had lost myself in
taking care of you.
surprisingly, it lived for two years
through a few hurricanes
though it stayed indoors,
mostly, i think it was resilient
because it was a hefty plant to begin with
had a lot to give
even after losing a lot--
kinda like my very own giving pot
but this summer when i left it
the sun became too hot
it was sucked dry
and now all that's left are a few dried leaves
splayed out in their final moments
looking for sun
but the pot still remains
though life has long left it
and though I have learned to care
for myself again
looking at that dead plant
is somewhat comforting
and I can't seem to shake that feeling
or seem to want to.