all i have left of him

a gaping hole he
used to occupy,
some snapshots
that seem so trivial now
the things left on my computer
that i do not need...
i leave crumbled in my hands
the useless dreams of yesterday
like chattel in the wind.
let the rain wash away
my heart - i have no use
for the filthy little thing.

keeping the bad with the good

if i threw away
every broken promise
all the times i cried
while you stood
silent, across the room
every single caress
that later turned
to ash in my mouth
every time you hurt me
all of your phone calls
the touch of your hands
in the dark
if i ceased to remember
all the times it hurt
and the way syou let me down
then i could scarcely
remember you
at all.

false requiems

abstract ideas are vaguely accepted
yet, when tested
all semblance of tolerance
is lost amidst the anger
the "sin" of it all
explained in terns from
an accepting, loving man
morphing into high morality
the refusal to accept anyone's values
yes, bathe in the blood of jesus
and pronounce his tenderness a sin
and in his name
kill the faggots and the heretics
and the witches and whores
burn them all until you don't remember
that behind closed doors
you are just the same.

kelli

in her eyes i can see the word girl glint off her
surfaces, although her mouth tongues boy
as she gives me that smile, knowing and
yet closed with visible longing for cessation
of deception, while father screams in the
living room not to be like 'those faggots.'
she winds the long hair up, watches the mirror parade
the whispers of dyke, and attempts to find a
male to take to prom to hide her dirty little
(girlfriend) secret.

speak*

he reads the sports section
rustling the pages

her fixed gaze is lost on him.
the television is muted, the fan
creaks
as it revolves.

she gathers the words against
her teeth and they
clack
with anticipation
but her breath lets out in a rush and
the words
flee
before she can force them into sounds.

he turns the page and settles in
to read.




*B.A. senior thesis poem

stoned, in ethics class*

a myriad of stars in the diamond heavens
could not light my way well enough to

tap-
dance
through the moral tarpits and
trip-
falls
required of intellectuals
to theorize, and puzzle out
the reasons, altruisms, empathetic sighs

as our fingers are tested in the silt-filled babblings
of philosophers, clear springs water now full
of sediments, dirt and

original
guilt
from the newest opiate religions of the masses.

communion hands full of
spaces and
pauses

in the struggling of the mighty
i.q. of the highest persons scraping out
the theoretical impersonalities of universes
that could have been
if not for our
ability to feel,
and love,

and dream.



*also in my senior thesis. almost completely unedited from when i first wrote it, in ethics class; i only changed the title.

concrete jungle

i do not see what is in front of me.
birds call in the air and
the pages of my book are
ruffled by the chill of autumn air
but i am in another universe,
unseeing eyes staring.

i am imagining
the peace of forest, the harsh
loamy smell of leaves from seasons past,
watching squirrels and rabbits
the scent of pine and earth
and leaves crunching beneath me
when i shift my weight.

[never mind my concrete surroundings
the sounds of traffic
from the nearby highway]

in my world, trees rule the
earth and within their branches,
i am melding into bird calls
and rustling leaves, and the
gentle noise of forest creatures who
scamper and live under roots
and in burrows under logs.

comprehension comes slowly

her eyes met mine
and for the first time,
she really saw me
straight through the layers
and bare into the center

i saw a flicker of comprehension
and that's all i really needed
i just wanted her
to see that pain
acknowledge the reality

it wasn't an admission of fault, or
an apology i was searching for
simply requiem in her eyes.

ideal kind

the way you move,
tracing shapes in the air
that only you can see,
and the lazy way you turn
my head to kiss me
and i love you, i do
when you touch me
with those hands and
whisper in my ear -
love, you do things
to me i'd never do to myself.
masochist that i am, i
have not the heart for these things.

entranced

i'm not entirely sure how long
i watched the screen-saver's
swirling lines and loops and curls

my mind snapped awake and
iwasthinking

i gotta get out of here
i gotta get out of here

the screen-saver continued its
frantic journey

i'm caged here playing my life on
loop like a crazed creature
bumping and pressing against
the glass of my computer screen.

scry

i am still evolving
i press my form onto the cloth
in an attempt to discover
who i am
perhaps i will divine myself
from the debris
of all that the others
have left behind.

better in the dark

what if i don't want
to be a certain thing,
what if my place
is in ambiguity,
and i am not meant
to become a definition?

am i not all of my lives, all
of my failures,
shortcomings, my
myriad mistakes,
am i not
every person i have ever been?

thankfulness

a sickening swirl of stomach
the clenched fists, nails
digging into your flesh, waiting
for the phone call - the yes or no.
sitting, twisting and turning
in your seat, glancing and glaring
at the clock, tapping your leg
impatiently, waiting
for the right time to leave, drive away
to the anxiously awaited appointment
your toe-jittery, teeth-grinding interview
where they hang your future in the balance
and watch you writhe before
handing you what you need - they say,
makes you grateful, that way.

april fifth

where we fail to mark our lives,
they make marks upon us
and your words burn holes me me still.
i cannot shut my mind to still
the echoes of flames.
i don't hope anymore,
concerning you.
i am sick unto death
of wishing you towards me
and away, so tired
of your appearances
just as i believe i
may have forgotten you,
and then here you are
and i scrape myself everywhichway
to cater to you.
i am tired
of the lurch in my throat,
your way of pretending
nothing happened at all,
the flighty, loveyou, hateyou,
mournful look
the secretive smiles
aimed ten degrees to the left
of my face,
of saying hello, then goodbye,
watching you slowly disappear
from my life.
now only dates mark my memory.
i will remember each year -
one year older, one year
further away
from you.

too good at lying to myself

pathetic insipid child,
there is no love,
didn't mommy tell you that?
as she unpacked
the crates from the divorce,
she said
marry rich
not for love
i thought her a fool
(but who is the fool
indeed?
i sit here
with a crumbled life
and she is beginning anew.
no regrets.)

battle

i'm studying the war cultures right now
and i begin to understand the rage
felt by all these ancient men
stirred to march and die for causes
they deemed necessary for bloodshed
i could take up my sword right now
i could lose myself in the death throes
of the people i hack down in blood-rage
and come out on the other side of battle,
filthy and worn, but whole as i could be
having hacked my heart to bits in war-mongering
i could walk on, and try to never feel again.

identity

you know it's on the line
trembling between past present
former and future
you wait
grasping for both sides,
terrified
of letting go
but you know that
forward is the only way,
there is nothing for you
in the past.
begin to throw away
your old life,
tearing a new spot for yourself
in the fabric of the world,
while the past digs its claws
into tender places.

leave everything behind

try not to mind when
they cry when you leave.
it is only a few moments,
their eyes will dry.
do not compulsively
clench your throat,
do not look back
as you drive away.
the road promises new
beginnings, and people
who have not lived
your middle school failures
and small high school triumphs.
you will be anonymous, alone.
do not cry when you realize
you have run away
to a new set of problems.
your status isn't changing,
you are still the same.
they are still the same.
it is all the same.
do not call your old best friends
and watch even the most familiar
melt away into strangeness.
most of all, do not admit
your failings, when home for the holidays -
no, it's good, really -
i'm fine.

patiently

pale green lampbeams shine
from the black fur of face.
short glints and she looks away,
tail twitching, waiting
staring at rough bark.
i hear the cheerful chirping
she is so enamored of,
and i really hope
(although i rather like birds)
that her fur will hide
from glints of sunlight.
twitch,
a tensing of body and limbs.
birds shoot from branches
and she flicks her tail
once, twice,
and curls underneath
the tree's shade, waiting.

worn through with you

why, whisper,
do you long for death so?
surely you know
it will not stop your longings,
fears and heresies. deeply inside
where your heart rots from misuse
in your chest, you can feel
that death is not the escape
you'd love it to be.
no, you will find
yourself again, over and over
you cannot expect the mortal coil
to change you.
death is nothing.
it will not kill your forbidden desires, or
help you run away.
death will bring you back here, over and over;
you cannot escape
from yourself.