10.27.2003
a melody please
   sure enough to convince
the ambivalent ear
10.25.2003
this is a haiku
   for all the haikus i can't
or chose not to hear
10.24.2003
black-glass-box-trapped-doored--
   akimbo or shattered, both?
      by reflected sun
10.16.2003
i can make circles
   open eye in my breaking
and not get dizzy
11.10.2003
chew, swallow, and spit
   three words i won't remember:
[you think] you love me
11.13.2003
turn and face it, fool--
   gasp in frigid, thrashing currents--
      live freshly, wind-blown
11.02.2003
remember today,
   forgetting we had no wings?
      and flew anyway
11.08.2003
untitled: 4:30 am


i didn't know i was falling--
yet--
but you reached down,
caught me just in time and
held me there,
close enough to feel
the blood pulse,
saved me--
from myself--
again
false start
12.11.02


on your mark,
     get set,
wait a minute--
but dust flies from shoes speeding you
     past the point of no return.

anchored
alone at the line, i await the cocked trigger
     to shock smoke from the barrel.
patient? pious? panicking?

my would-be competitors course ever forward,
     smooth streaks pulsating the blazed trail
          towards the horizon--
disqualified and not caring.

     at last!
motion [the pistol explodes]--
i vibrate head to toe and it's
     ...more like a dance...

so this is what winning is like.
when there are no words
03.03.02


you know how sometimes
you're so full
but heaven just breaks open
and keeps pouring
and there's nothing you can do
but stand there in the rain
tilt your head back
and keep drinking
until you're floating
in your own light.
portrait of the moment
01.04


big black barrette
bouncing out of its blonde bob,
Winnie the Pooh blinking,
tan boots,
circles and swinging and
swinging and circles:
together--
apart--
linked at hands twisting,
elbows flapping
like wings,
off the feet--
tumbling, smile:
Daddy's dancing too
but you didn't need anyone
to tell you it was ok to dance,
and now the big people
are doing it too,
just like no one's
watching
don't we?
03.31.04


don't we bottle up our lives into delicate ribboned vials,
glowing soft and translucent,
and offer wisdom-drops to our thirsty children and
anyone else passing parched,
knowing that the smooth glass--
once sandpaper-rough--
has diluted the bittersweet juices within?
we pour cooled what should burn,
dampen what should fuel the fire,
embrace the Transubstantiation
(of blood into wine).

drink, drizzle,
drown...
what's the difference
i'm not laughing
03.23.04


go ahead and laugh
maybe i'm overreacting but it's
sunshine we're talking about
it's the oxygen in the air
i breathe and i
don't like to share it
i can hardly bear it
so
go ahead and laugh
blow me off and go your own way
plant in me a passion
let it wither and decay
go ahead and talk
i'm tired of trying to listen
flash a smile
it won't dry my tears
or erase the imperfections
that have haunted me for
years
yeah,
go ahead and laugh
it's natural, no crime
but
let me overflow--
i just need a little time
updowupdowupdowwwwwn
02.24.04


thought i'd confuse you since i have the time
thought i'd give a piece of mind i used to call mine
do you remember what i promised you
well you can forget it now
it was too good to be true
'cause simple starts
and humble hearts are means
for mutiny, and
the cradle fell:
dry bottom of the well of
expectation:
so
when is it going to be more than words?
when is it going to be more than reeling through my head?
more than a half-drawn sword
more than a half-swept floor
more than a half-open door
and a half-broken dream? i think you
know what i mean:
one hand tied and one losing grip
and no place to stand
between
on maturation
03.10.04


the stages of my insecurity form patterns i'm still trying
to decipher:
the [naive] young spirit
grows a young body quivering,
then confident: but
the young spirit
shudders to a halt and
eventually
makes the young
body
old.

eventually
i'll forget what i looked like and
eventually
i'll remember
the Creator of Beauty told me
i am
beautiful

since when must my spirit and body hold the upper-hand
before i can love you?
futile egocentricity twirls us, in
barefoot angelic oblivion,
amidst each other's
[lush, pastoral] envy--
spinning longer,
faster, higher,
and

eventually
i'll forget what you looked like and
eventually
i'll remember
the Creator of Beauty told me
you are
beautiful

instead of approaching the stars
we push them
farther out of reach.
is love a sacrifice?
i'd better think twice
when eventually comes,
'cause

eventually
we forgot what we looked like and
eventually
we remembered
the Creator of Beauty told us
we are
beautiful
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