poems and eulogies

start with a word
they don’t care which word you choose
as long as you begin
and, later, end

and of course it’s beautiful

In here, out there nobody sees. Pomegranate seeds shred through my teeth and we accept it. He smiles and of course it’s beautiful.
A blood moon grows 10,000 times what it was, in here. Out there, nobody knows.
I count, up to seven minutes in Heaven and wonder, in here.
Out there, nobody waits.
Everybody talks.
Everybody spits venom in the eyes of people they love.

I love him for the birds, he just doesn’t belong in here. 
This desert is mine.
I sleep on cactus beds and wait….with time.
The sun is mine. I’ll keep it in a locket for those days that get dark, in here. Out there, nobody notices.

I smile. He smiles, and of course it’s beautiful.

If We Could

talk about orchard red petals on wood tables
plate upon each other
soft eggs whispering to candle wax and I am

just buried in wallpaper
trapped in a past life
guessing on about oil in still life canvas

on a second thought my eyes shift
to roll back
and he slithers up toward my lips

because if he could he wouldn’t exist
yet here we begin
just two pieces of black ice
melting pastels into sunset

and if we could get it back together
from memory – where it is what it was –
we would pluck tiny pellets from
pomegranates in winter
for juicing

individually

without each other

Lemons Rinds and Jack

It will always be walking through tough cement, lemon rinds and jack-one swift sailor high on a Black Sea 

drifting for eternity, fighting off starvation, making friends with an idea.

Love is not sold on silent blue moons or Ancient Greek mistresses riding them bareback

but deep inside a reflection, an abbreviated determination that divides calm nights.

I watch you pray for those hours. God isn’t listening;

He is creating. 

Untitled

two honey bees scribble
across Rupi’s milk
her tragic black paperback
blooms

on a blank kitchenette
empty plastic cup
waiting for a purpose
I tell it
“go”
but who am I to
say anything

Rupi says it all

if her grace has been missed
you should find it
gather up her past
in her shadow
and twist it
into purple origami

for me to dry
each drop
that falls because
of ways men
have touched her

untitled

the hardest part of loving her desert is
knowing that it did not come
from you

in a moment

a moment like that
like this
is crucial

lightning strikes,
dry heat
radiation
takes place

of
the sweet kiss
on my cold shoulder

I find seconds
in days
that last
forever waiting
to speak

whisper even

because tragedy
has hands
that rip through
this soul

this particular soul
that sleeps
like a demon
in benediction

that opens a
bloodshot
mouth
in his direction –

even the desert would
freeze over
if it knew him

ghost

my sun starts sleepy
on this side of
ecstasy

rolling in deep
sudden
pulsating
submission

his shadow aligns
with time
that belongs to
none

stars are ever burning
love

do not forget me

Dystopia

out there
rain lives
and breathes
and falls asleep
the way I want to

instead
I stay

eat cactus

fry worms on black top

undress for men
I don’t want

touch
every
square
inch

like its you

to mine

mining: the extraction of valuables

a fresh element, raw
fire starter –
dripping language
from his pores

who speaks
but you?

I do

rock dusts are risky
but I will
breathe through

demand is high
pressurized coal
flows like
water
and that is not
my desire

chemistry is mixing
air into
asphyxiation
but I am
fixated

on the way
the world tilts
when I make out
with your layers
and veins

and even though 1,549 died in China
that way;
due to

I will not abandon you