I Sometimes Claw

at a closed door.
It doesn't mean I am inside

wanting out

it doesn't mean I am outside
wanting in

It only means I am clawing
to be somewhere

on common ground.

Architecture of Fliration


My natural tendency
is to kiss you
and make it hurt

poison your throat with the
taste of my tongue

drown you like an olive
in a glass of gin

cross my legs endlessly
bat you with my eyelashes

weaken your architecture
shatter your windows

strip you of fear
until I crawl inside, naked

haunt you like a vacant building
shake my chains against the what is

grind candy hearts into your
thighs, a sweet tattoo

flirt endlessly with the night
furiously brand my heat into you

bleach you of everything but this:

the shape of me
forever tangled in your sheets

Done

I'm tired
and I want to
go to bed

Heart on Fire

Please help me
stop

striking matches
flicking them all over
chambers and rooms

blow

torching blood-filled
arteries pumping fake
desire in

and out

stop

please -
it's killing

Moby - Extreme Ways

Extreme ways are back again
Extreme places I didn't know
I broke everything new again
Everything that I'd owned
I threw it out the window came along
Extreme ways I know will part the colors of my sea
'Perfect color me'

Extreme ways that help me
They help me out late at night
Extreme places I had gone
That never seen any light
Dirty basements, dirty noise
Dirty places coming through
Extreme worlds alone
Did you ever like it planned?

I would stand in line for this
There's always room in life for this

Oh babe, oh babe
Then it fell apart, it fell apart
Oh babe, oh babe
Then it fell apart, it fell apart

Extreme sounds that told me
They held me down every night
I didn't have much to say
I didn't give up the light
I closed my eyes and closed myself
And closed my world and never opened up to anything
That could get me at all

I had to close down everything
I had to close down my mind
Too many things caught me
Too much could make me blind
I've seen so much in so many places
So many heartaches, so many faces
So many dirty things
You couldn't even believe

I would stand in line for this
It's always good in life for this

Oh babe, oh babe
Then it fell apart, it fell apart
Oh babe, oh babe
Then it fell apart, it fell apart

Oh Babe, oh babe

Oh babe, oh babe

Then it fell apart, it fell apart Oh babe, oh babe
Then it fell apart, it fell apart Oh babe, oh babe
Then it fell apart, it fell apart
Oh babe, oh babe
Like it always does, always does

- Moby

Petros

Not rock, not steady and firm
but fractured
mossy
unclear in the morning light -

Where have you gone?
My darling Petros

I never saw you as the corner
stone. I only saw you as you were
beautiful in the dark
full of anticipation

lovely in your own skin
alive at midnight
Petros, come back -
I miss you

so

.

Anticipating Bainbridge Island

He said to her
I'm putting you on a boat

She asked him
on a boat to where?

The only thing she knew for sure was -
they were definitely going to Bainbridge

and that one day
she would write about it.

Static

The set screened "LOVE"!
suddenly nothing -
just picture and white noise

Morocco

Woman as Water

She can't fake it
those dams made of sticks
those rushing currents
those steep but crumbling
banks of shale

she slips
she slips
she slips

into tumbling rivers
and rides currents
with all risk of submersion
her mouth full of laughter
until she becomes

I Hate Winnipeg - The Weakerthans

Cats & Dogs

you know I love you -
woofed the toothy red dog to
the little orange cat

The Day Harold Lemon Became

Prose, even his own farts betrayed him
became ordinary and bland, not even much
sound really. And what fun is there without
sound? His clothes appeared to be three tints
off – no depth, too much white and his ties!
Harold had always been known for the vocabulary
of his ties – orange, yellow, indigo with ruby
stripes, dots, even cartoons and seasonal themes.
Suddenly, all brown, navy, shades of grey
not even the clarity found in black and white.
They say he sort of went crazy after that
but nobody knows for sure because he stopped –
stopped talking, working, fucking, drinking
even smoking which he used to enjoy
sucking that cigarette until the bitter end
propped up against some fashionable shop wall
in his pinstripes and button down crisp shirts
eyes darting through the crowd to find something
anything, someone interesting and as he ground
that butt intently under the heel of his polished shoe
his other foot had already left the ground, striding
towards the next unsuspecting and most
beautiful
.

Fifty

I met you just before the turn;
a 1/2 century, we flipped a coin
heads we stay, tails we go - copper
gleam off the edge of a desert sun
all questions now at rest in palms
in a city we had never been.

Somewhere, a clock chimed
midnight - fireworks
erupted from a small girls' heart.

There is a Hole in the Universe

"It is not like a hole in the wall where a mouse slips through, solid and crisp and leading from somewhere to someplace.  It is rather like a hole in the heart, an amorphous and edgless void.  It is a heartfelt absence, a blank space where something is missing, a large and oblivious blind spot in our understanding of the universe.

That missing something, strange to say, is a grasp of nothing itself.  Understanding nothing matters, because nothing is the all-important background upon which everything else happens."

K.C. Cole, The Hold in the Universe:  How Scientists Peered over the Edge of Emptiness and Found Everything

http://www.amazon.com/gp/reader/015100398X/ref=sib_dp_pt#reader-link

Woman Dreams A Perfect Kiss

Into gasps gulfing

................shapes full of suck

of eager pull back

.................towards just shy

of nothing but

.................lost in parting

curl of rivers

.................runs of wet dark

maws of stars

.................fall soft into 

shapes full of suck

.................into gasps gulfing

mote

What used to be plank now nail
What used to be nail now silver

head nailed into plank
plank nailed into head

What used to be head now heart
What used to be heart now head

heart planted into head
head blooming out of heart

What used to be
Is not what is
What used to be
Is not what is

It’s more than what it used to be

be infused into want
want infused into be

bee infused into sternum
sternum infused into stem

burst

into the buzz of a summer day
day of summer stemmed into

burst

Pit Bull

I'm going to write something that bares
its teeth and growls at the cuff
something that rips and tears
until there is nothing left but bone

legs in tatters
mouths full of blood
and yet
we are grinning
wide

And when you rip off
your clothes and howl
at pure unadorned sky -

I swear, I
will.

A Garden Sings of Lost Lovers

Light leaves the caps
as it leapfrogs spray
over spray while below all
all colour speaks of murk
descends so wisely cloaked

so brief with dew
spirals a moment
attends to something crying
something that is dying
quiver quick to blemish

reveal of drop - there
balanced on the flat leaf
- in the garden ghost chairs
haunt cruel autumns
tines quick to choke

sew white -
his lilies O where?