Over The Moon

Under sheets,
under years and years of
turning leafs and lingering
through broken
heart beats,

under the street lights,
beneath the nights
that stretch on for miles,

after all the after-a-while’s,
after piles of music,
and lyrics,
and ugly hands,

over the distance,
over the past,
over the moon and back

through the silence,
throughout conversation,
through the abuse of the new moons,

in the dives,
diving in to the unknown,
drowning in the bent
and the broken,

above solidity,
up,
up above everything,

away from the mess
away from life,
deep into veins,
into pain,
around towering walls,
around brick after brick,
around heaviness,
through distance,
through time,
through space,
through heartache,

and back again,
here I am

deep under sheets,
over the moon,
in love with you.

Statue

I am laying in wet cement, gray
mud
blanket gobbling up my plague.
It is thick like me,
like the twenty years of
plaster inside.

Everything is hardening.
Kidney.
Liver.
Fallopian Tubes.
Guts.
Heart.

I have been treated like a statue.
It isn’t hard to
be still,
motionless. Erect.
Allowing curious wanderers to
make up my background,
my story.

A man brought oranges
to paint
me with. He was a soft liquid.
I was set to stone.
He sliced his moist fruit,
dripping
sweet citrus over my rough skin, melting
my rind.

Away, away I went with delicate fruit.
A new sculpture.
A beautiful, fluid seed.

Spread Your Life For Me

Raw behind the rib cage
bulging
ready!

Jaw extended
– attack –
to tear flesh
to expose
protected
delicate
four-chambers

for consummation

thick
red
life
quenches desire
for life to resume

thick
red
life
spreads itself across
empty
longing

a blanket
for a barren
wasteland

for nothing more
than
a
product

of a Hoarder and
an Unprotected
Heart.