Poetry
Becoming Alone (Lacuna)
2012-12-8
It is like rain.
It is the sound.
It is the taste.
As clear tonight as ever.
This memory from long ago,
before your face washed away.
Oh to feel it run down my skin,
as hands and hearts so generously touched.
It is like rain.
It is searching.
It is my loss.
To have suffered and mourned.
Where are you now my nearest friend?
Where have you hidden in the darkness?
Please pull me from this storm,
and hold me, hold me safe on solid ground.
It is like rain.
It is the roof.
It is the leak.
You're hardly anything at all.
Yet on and on I wander,
always finding you less with time.
Don't leave me with myself,
Don't leave me here, with a man I've never known.
Believing (Lacuna)
2012-11-22
Now this machine runs cold;
every part in its place,
every squeaky wheel — silenced.
Drilling into the heart of being,
to meet you at the end,
with the whole of my fears.
I've only just begun to know you,
but I believe I know you so well.
They forbade these dirty hands
from the dirt you wanted thrown
into the ground, now your home.
I never believed in faith
but I trusted yours had meaning:
that I was too scared to see.
I've only just begun to know you,
and I trust I always did.
I'll be out past the stars soon;
where touch loses its meaning
- I was bound get there somehow.
I'll embrace the destiny of life
knowing all things are born to die
and I'm afraid to be afraid
I've only just begun to know you,
and I know I never will.
Together Lost
2012-10-17
Him,
and his only
beside the vague fire
drying old faults
and perfect mistakes
Still,
held in delight
broken with desire
resolved to sin
by midnight recourse
Faith,
how time forgets
whether we retire
dying for more
or slighter absolve
Them,
with no farewells
bearing fine attire
pleading in wrath
or destined contempt
Oh,
oh how holy
without each other
knowing what was
can never again
Her,
and her only
beside the vague fire
drying old faults
and perfect mistakes
Of Meeting and of Farewell
2012-9-24
As we wait here in wonder,
wrapped around each other,
the ship's in the dock
— our luggage all aboard.
It wasn't easy to get here,
to the end of the world.
Still not ready to go,
but how could we really know?
So we hold on with our nails,
with the pains we find.
An old captain and the cartographer;
still a wind in these sails,
and still just as blind.
Our mail comes from the kneeling,
who can't shake the feeling,
of us on the dock
— with those who won't yet sail.
We merely whisper sweet farewells,
to the rest of the world.
With no more room to need,
we're all that we'll ever be.
So we hold on with our nails,
with the pains we find.
An old captain and the cartographer;
still a wind in these sails,
and still just as blind.
Why make so little of leaving,
of those plans still weaving,
as we drift from dock
— to our life out at sea.
So nearly I could not have been;
so scarcely as the world.
To keep it all so near,
what loss could I hold so dear?
Imaginary Lamp Oil
2012-9-10
All I ever knew was your face,
a glimpse through the crowd;
or the dances we've outgrown,
with the pain of our mistakes.
Like a scent you can't remember,
which brings a lost warmth;
as I tremble to confess,
we are not who we've recalled.
You are a memory
- no not even that.
You are what couldn't be,
a rabbit from a hat.
While I've shaded you in my fear,
you have been my light;
in an aimless heart's stumble,
I have found my own new home.
You are a memory
- no not even that.
You are what couldn't be,
a rabbit from a hat.
With Angry Lost Breaths
2012-8-7
And we marched forth from our innocence
To heaven and to hell
We left our voices in the fire
With our lovers and our children
We burned our homes and our graves
With trembling strength and swift hands
Wanton faith and promiscuous hunger
We drowned our dreams before their births
Spread our dying father far across this Earth
We wrote this anger in our blood
While every sacred kiss betrayed him
Still she shook down our jealous skies
Every stone beckoned by her seduction
And we each marched on forever
Forever from our precious Babylon
Everything We Live
2012-6-12
What do we keep in the blink of an eye?
Our completion, cradling hand to face.
Caress the times when hearts have failed us,
at the end of memories we've wrung dry.
Do you know how I have worshiped you?
How I've held you in everything I am.
Embrace this life as we fall gently away,
under the rain of what we will have been.
Have I been to you all you've been to me?
In the darkest, forgotten things we are.
Lose the only way over the cliff's face,
into the ocean we'll drink with all others.
Blankets for Dreaming (Lacuna)
2012-3-18
We live with the truth that we are born to die,
yet somehow the labors of our hands persist.
It is by the obsessions formed in our hearts
that this fear is made to vanish as we toil.
We etch in our souls the music of these loves,
as we play on the phonograph what we become.
We mold the cosmos for our comfort and our children's,
and play the records louder with each generation.
We live to hide the truth we bury in passion,
that we are closest to death when we dream.
I'm Glad You Exist
2012-1-12
You've been up on the stage before me;
taken the faith holding up my knees.
You've handled my heart as a treasure,
though it sits silenced below the dirt.
There is a terror I learned from truth;
I have never loved you more.
I am glad you managed to exist,
to welcome me at your sleeping feet.
These moments are the bones of my being;
while you toil in the labor of dreams.
This inevitable slight of hand,
these hidden trinkets are all I am.
You've performed reality for my tears;
the best experience this spirit knows.
You've always managed to exist,
beyond my emptiness - narrowly crossed.
Benefits of Growing
2011-12-8
I made your young crush fade away
amidst your silent sorrow's sound,
while all your friendships slept around you
in their beds beneath the ground.
You sang,
"I would have taken you in the stars.
I would have stolen your name.
I would have carried all your fears.
I would throw dirt into your grave"
— or something like that.
I led her off into the night,
forgot her silver eyes and lips.
That nervous memory she gave you
was the one you all but missed.
You sang,
"This is the way of life around me.
This is the piteous will.
This is the lover I despise.
This is that foreign hunter's kill."
No idea where you're going,
just an inkling why you were here,
all that's left of you is in your heart
and that's where you kept her tears.
You sang,
"Something was taken by the old clock.
Something was in these embers.
Something was supposed to be there.
Something I just can't remember."
— to me.
Stolen by a fear of beauty
in the moment of her power;
always strong, you held fast despite me
though she is me gone sour.