The Black Hole VicinityMy pulse no longer beatsMore Like This
in tune with every honk
and my feet are out of place
with your walk;
I can barely keep up.
This city numbs my very bones
and I write but cannot talk;
the words keep freezing in my mouth.
I shuffle and shiver,
grinding my teeth at night,
while every other cog
is moving, moving, moving
and I am fully stopped.
The Man Who Would Chase WinterA man who tore at my mindMore Like This
like a half-forgotten dream;
pieces of ideas burning,
tugging my thoughts to him as a child.
For a moment, the present would not exist;
our world of dreams more real
than the world around me. Another gift
from him to me.
I remember late phone calls,
strung together as lanterns;
the only thing
that brightened the winter in my heart.
I was a risk not many would have taken,
with tears caught in my throat
and a howling in my head.
You gave me air
when I couldn't find my lungs
but love isn't a respirator.
I still have tears trapped in my throat
and I gasp for air occasionally
but the howling has grown faint.
Sometimes a man tugs at my mind again,
I remember lanterns
and a world of dreams, all our own.
volcanic glasslatin can not describe the electricityMore Like This
of blue veins suspended in cala lily skin. they fan out,
protazoic, dormant beneath a sea of iced flesh.
i grip the sink, peroxide strands of kelp washing up
on the banks of my shoulders like
the white-gold sunshine
that would prism behind your chinook arch
with all the beauty of a nuclear winter.
for the transplant of my frontal lobe
to the heaven above his stratus comforter, instructions
have been written. next time he is carried in on a foen wind i am to
one, stand very still
two, present my brain to the sky
wait for the apricots
of sunrise to settle
into the overcast of his eyes.
i practise a little and wish i had a veinous hum, skeptical
that an electrocardiogram could detect a beat.