this is what happens when you’re in love

dark poetry love

you feel like an ocean
in my arms a tidal wave

I have been surfing on
summer since you

found me black shadowed
after trekking winter’s
long desert

waiting for you to
hyphenate me with

your time and your precious
cargo down below a

vacant heart at the time
but now is a roaring lion

ready to claim
this undiscovered body

prepared for your arrival.

Reflection

reflection
For this time being, she swept dirt away from dirt and from cactus and captured the memory of a small home made of partially buried lava rock and desert rain weeds. She swept Earth away from itself, angrily debating existence. And it was comfortable.

She wanted to sit and invite a sister and a mother to laugh and admire her desert. Without a roof. Without water. Without time. She wanted to stay and wait for a summer moon to smile at her with pride, with knowing.

And night came, but the desert never becomes cold. Coyotes came to practice midnight and bury sharp hunger through the necks of jack rabbits. The universe came to cover her head and remind her of tin roofs and frail wood spines of old women that shriek with each step she steps.

How cold the desert becomes in that small house.

Elvis is alive. Fact or fiction. Electric theory travels across a nation. She meets guitars and drums and sex and drugs. She is seventeen wild in a broken city. She is chained to an old lamp-post that jolts to life at sunset. Her lungs are clogged. Smog takes over. She inhales a damp determination for life that doesn’t smell like rot.

I meet her at twenty two and Newport Beach. Carpet stained by black top walks and coffee. It’s an LA Times kind of morning. Knit tops cover immodest mannequins waving to her from window cages. He head hangs to her knees. Cracks in the sidewalk taunt her. She is guilty and broken. She doesn’t speak or mimic or cry, but she can hear intent. I give her symbols. Ice. Shadow. Flight.

She chooses to choke.

Summer leaves her. I leave her in an hourglass. Her slim smile leaks through the sand. Time is running out.
She starts talking to the desert. A language I can’t understand. Ink leaks from eyes to her young lips. She tastes words for the first time. I stop to watch. She is thick with rage. We are intense and struggling. Our muscles melt together with neurons and we know each other. We are scared.

We see doctors and pills and whiskey and we time it just right so that our bodies do not fail. And we buy reviews and our way into a new way. Oranges explode and we drink fruit rinds. And I miss her when she is not there. We discover each other but we do not know. What is truth? Where does it begin and with who? We softly debate existence and beg for an out. Shamefully we beg for an out.

And here we are. In the middle of the Earth. Gravity. Cells. DNA. Still so unsure. Still begging for an out…

until we step into his driveway at midnight. Our hearts shake. His sharp hunger examines our every layer. One hand behind our neck. We stop breathing. We are out.

I Could Not Exist, Not For You

icouldnotexistnotforyou
those words hang stolen

weeping willow feelings
a translation
so desperate

so sudden
a panic slighted by
memories that
only sleep can
bribe from
a hidden cave

i think
i thought of you
as love

a piece of heaven
dangling over
a crimson counter-top
tempting my
sensations

a reverberation
of a gift
offered only
by the Universe

you stole
them from another
love
that flourished
in a time
that I could not exist

not for you

Life Cycle

Life cycle

Inside egg shell
ostrich bones
form over
and over fire
ostrich feathers fry.

Summer twilight
under seas
dead fish float
trying out moss
5th Ave
cross streets.

It’s a like
a thumb’s up
a smile
a laugh

a new thought
a new way to say
life lives to die
concrete
it is.

Married To A Monster

not the kind you think of
when the word presents itself

there hasn’t been gifts
or flowers
or cakes

no declarations of love

I am veiled in quicksand
my ankles stolen
right from underneath me

A preacher speaking “blah, blah, blah, God” ….
and all that stuff

my dear family and friends
gathered around me
laughing

a single dove laying on
an altar
plugged into oxygen
plastic wrapped for perfection
suffocating

the caterer
with the smile of a thousand devils
reminds me to pay my bill

tonight we roast the dove

What Happens To Love

A blank sky starts out
and just like that
like embers flicking
popping
rising
from a camp fire

a Universe is on fire
holding hands
twisting fingertips
underneath precious metals
of an Earth

for the sake of intimacy
on black heels
in a month
like August
like seductive and
sweet

she is a golden pear
dangling fresh in the night air
all men have met her
at some point
she becomes bitter

after the picking
after the tasting
after familiarity increases

In The End

In the end, all that sleeps against your fresh
youth is an echo.

After the last words slide across instant
regret, the only thing that spends Saturday
mornings with you are the bones
of an old Review.

After tonight,
just remember the way your fingers interlocked
like you figured out a combination
of perfect timing
and lust.

Just remember, that’s all it was.

Leave Me With The Echo

Here. I am black echo ash.
Resin. The aftermath.

Always, the beginning is fresh.
Sweet cream masked – naked
baby’s breath awakening
to the first day.

I close my eyes to find it.
Seven minutes –
heaven is just beneath
his collar.

One breath, we melt forever
bonded; a rush, a plunge,
a distance without measure.

Instigator. I break as quick
as silver, my tongue –
an anxious alligator.

He snakes back to a shadow.
Strike a fire, burn
his path to follow.

Catch on flames, catch the blue.
Beginnings start out hollow.
Torch the love, torch the pain
leave me with the echo.

I Saw It First

so the world curves in and folds
over bottomless
alto-cumulus like
a second cloud
thundering over a handful
of broken hearts
I mean for you to find
out first
but it’s always my eyes
that watch storms
rolling in

swiftly from cracks in old
dreams angrily toward
nights that cradle infants
softly

strangling sleep that holds
and heals
I am tethered to heavy
weather on one of those old
Sunday’s watching my body
drift silently into you
I mean for you to taste these
memories trapped but my
heart is pyrite and I
saw it first.

Little Boy

There is a leak in the Earth,
quietly letting mercy slip
out,
unnoticed.

Ashes sprout in Spring’s fresh
mouth – her lungs
blacken with ferocity,

a dark mother clouds the sky
of an innocent,
a soft snow lays silent,
begging the earth to warm;
a quick suicide.

Her arms cradle his delicate
voice, she is moon craters
and crackling fire embers,
an Earth of her own.

Heavy waves of blood crash through
a golden heart,
blue eyes sicken and he cries.

Her own waves say goodbye –
and the Earth opens one more time.