January 12, 2013

With all our limbs in limbo,
your feet next to my neat pairing of hands,
breath on breath, scapula on stomach,
sing me the birth song of your
every miraculous turning over in the night,
my arms flying buttresses
to your rib cage cathedral,
your rose window-wide eyes,
and your stone shoulders.
You have convinced me that
we were all immaculately conceived
in the tiny cupped hands
of just one corner of the universe.
This is not a dream
but a secret the universe whispered to me
through stars and the perfection of your shins;
in this hall of your body let us make new sins
because all those old giants have paled,
and we are new and bright and
oh so ready to make fresh transgressions
with this flesh on flesh test of humanity,
so come with me, love.


A star, collapsing in on itself
May 13, 2012

your skin smells like old sunburns fading
trail dust slept into your hair
dirt walked slowly into the creases of the soles
palms like dandelion sap, pollen on the nose
buttercup dust under the chin and smiles
straight white teeth and freckle clusters
tracing your constellations across a bare back
past rough elbows and quiet hands

no one remembers how to recognize a face
the sound of a warm body turning over
on bright grass blades, flattening
it all out

my hair is growing too fast this year
and you speak too immediately and
not at all

take this flash light
point to the constellations with
the steady beam
there the big dipper and the bear
the throne and ones you have created
lines drawn in light

i’ll wash off the dirt, take your felt-tip
pen, connect your points
hold still


oh hey there
March 5, 2012

No, my dear blog, I did not forget about you. I’ve just been so busy writing new poems for my workshop that I haven’t had time to revise any of my already-written poems.  And much to the chagrin of certain people among my readership, I (almost) always revise my poems before setting them free to jaunt about the internets.  It’s like tying your kid’s shoes before letting them loose in a playground (or perhaps it is more like making sure they don’t do weird things with scissors to their own hair so that they won’t be mercilessly picked on by bullies).  But anyway, the long rambling point I am in the process of making is that I’m here and I’m still writing.  And because I just came from a poetry reading and feel a need to live up to the artsy standard I have set for myself by being a part of said reading, I suppose that a poem is in order.

One day when passion becomes too much for my lungs to hold and my hands to resist,
I will bind your wrists to bed posts and trace maps across the territory of your torso,
explore the vast uncharted wilderness of pulsating skin.
I will leave teeth marks and make muscles sing,
uncap pens with my teeth and scrawl masterpieces of the most primal kind.
I will discover language for the first time,
new and living on your limbs, under your breasts, down your spine,
and the lines will lace your deep blood with the glorious ache
of making love out of nothing but dark ink.

comps proposal without bibliography
November 17, 2011

I know what you want
i know how your limbs
fold twist turn bend break
i know i want you
i know my vocal chords need to be
pushed to the limit
i know there are no limits
i know you
i know the feeling of your skin
i feel the ground underneath my soles
my soul wants to lie next to your soul
they want to sip coffee together in the mornings
they want to wake up next to each other
in the middle of the dark night
for no reason except to kiss
you will put your hands together
and clap out a rhythm for us to dance to
and my feet will feel freer than waterfalls
on the carpet on the wood floors
on the stone staircases
there are dead flies in our light fixtures
but we are too busy sweeping
dust out of the corners of the bedrooms
too busy fluffing the pillows
too busy boiling rice and
microwaving frozen vegetables
set the table
lay out the forks and knives and spoons
and fill the glasses with wine
and we will drink and eat and
put our hands together and
pray before it all
and thank god that we have made it this far
closing our eyes to see the impossible better
closing our eyes to hear what we normally ignore
the dripping of the kitchen sink
the creaking of tree limbs in the wind
it is a hard silence to bear
as we wait for the moment to end as we
wait to pick up our sharpened utensils
and dig into sustenance
and let the sound of our own bodies be all that is
that is all i want there to be
pounding and pounding of our muscular heart beats
in the empty space surrounding our beings
rushing blood rushing water
through our throats
through our fingers past rocks
in rivulets in streams
in waves of ecstasy and nervous twinges
of arousal between comforter and bedsheets
between the ceiling and the floor
who knows where we will end up
in the end who knows how we will
get to where we need to be
go with me to the super market to the
drug store to the gas station
we will buy doughnuts and orange juice
and pain killers and everything will be better
and we will sleep and wake up to a breakfast
of almost-champions of runner-ups but
that will have to do
for me that is all that is required of life
and when i go home i will lie and say
i was the prize winner the glory seeker
achieving everything that can be sought
and i will spend my nights sipping
decaffeinated tea and surfing the internet for
unfound words that will tweak my brain
in unforeseen contortions
i will give myself up
my self seated on piano benches
at kitchen counters
in car passenger seats
i am wondering when life will begin
when my preludes will turn
to main courses to body paragraphs
to the robust palpable pulsing realities
of which we all dream secretly
when the stars have gone out and we are afraid
and i would call 911 about the car
driving backwards on the highway
but i follow the example and i hope
the whole world turns backwards and upside
down and inside
out until we know nothing
and then maybe i will slither past your chair and touch
your hand and kiss you and we will
make love and the sky will tell us
that we are right
and that is all we will need
in our world that is not a world
worshipping a god that is too weak
to tell us what to do and
by then the orgasmic explosions of the cosmos
will reach our little planet our little
universe our little sphere of mundane existence
and we will be incinerated and we
won’t see it coming and i will embrace
every part of you so much that before the end
i won’t know my self anymore
before the end i will be in love with you
for the first time

Love is a Humanism
October 11, 2011

Hide and Seek

Who knows why God won’t let me in
on my own secrets?
What is this world-space-time?
What are all these blue mondays?
What are all these green-grey afternoons?
Who is this being I have felt?
She is without apologies.
She is smiling with her straight teeth.
She is running through red lights.
She is smelling of hand soap.
She is kissing my mouth.
What is this wonder she has left
in my pocket, under my finger nails?
What is this word she is letting slip
past her taut vocal chords,
past her loose lips?
What are all these rose-colored mornings?
What are all these dancing dawn lights
and brightly cosmic whisperings?
God wants his secrets back,
but she is hiding them in me.
They are warm and sweet-tasting.
I hope he does not think to look
here, in my body, for the stars
and the smell of magnolias
blossoming in the spring.

free verse
April 10, 2011


The lightning is asking me to shout thunder back at it,
and the wind is telling me to let my hair fly long and loose,
and I am listening to the entire world as it speaks to me!
I am opening every window of my house
and beginning the spring cleaning
and sweeping everything old and dusty and dank
out from under the carpets
and over the threshold,
and the wind is taking it all away.

In the night when the moon seems brighter
than every star combined,
I will sleep on the dewy grass
and leave a crumpled outline of my self
for you to find in the morning.

Won’t you join me here?
Won’t you let me bring you close to my self
and embrace you with my long bare arms
and let you see that this is part of
Let us be human together!

In the night when clouds blow past the moon
and cast shadows that remind us that
light must be noticed,
I am noticing you,
you and your green eyes shining in starlight,
and you and your feet stepping silently on packed earth.
Stand with me at the brink and
hold my hand
and you will be alive with me
and we will feel the life of every bird and river
rumble through our bodies,
and I will kiss you once and
it will feel like a thousand times.