Morgan

Morgan
And then you kissed me and kissed me
like you never knew this day would happen.

And looked at me longingly with large, blue eyes
like you would never peer any deeper into me.

And slid your fingers between mine and squeezed
like you could never let go even if you tried.

And trailed your fingers down my jaw bone
like making sure, even now, that I am real.

And said my name, in slow whispers
like I ever needed any convincing.

And even though this is new, you walk with me,
like we are in no hurry to get anywhere.

And when we left, we were not afraid
like being together could carry us throughout the world.

Empathy (For TJ)

Empathy (For TJ)

Empathy. Even through the span of a text message you showed disdain.
Technology is cold, but you encouraged a blizzard through callous words.

That certain essence that reflects back from baby blue hues.
It contains the ability to more than just inspire imagination, but words.

Carry it through mountains that tell tales of the past in carpets of autumn
and smells of pines; something that cannot solely be described by words.

The incandescent wave of serenity not even you can truly see.
When roads are covered in ice and muttered curse words.

Head up the gravel driveway and meet a white-cloud of smoke
flavored with marijuana and goofy notions whispered in lazy words.

This is not just a life, it is THE life that you can experience
surrounded by friends and mountains, wrapped in their wise words.

Remember, This Is Just a Dream

Remember, This Is Just a Dream

I just keep seeing you being eaten
by the giant tyrannosaurus rex
as he chases us through my dreams.
He flung your semi-overweight body
up in the air and caught you; I’ve never
seen a human break that way.
Almost like a Raggedy Ann Doll
without the sound.

Why you were the one who
the rex chose to eat was beyond me.
We all were together when he snatched
you from the ground. I cannot
forget your screams, like a woman’s.
For such a large man, it was almost
embarrassing.

It was so vivid. I grabbed
your best friend’s hand, tightly,
and we ran. I’ve never seen Josh cry.
It’s not as if we stole the car.
The keys were in the ignition.
We drove the nearest house and
stormed into it, scared.

We shuttered, wrapped in thick blankets,
like housecats drenched in water.
And there it shifted. My dream turned
and there came the Rex, mouth gaping.
He could speak.

 “Come, ride my back,”
he said. “Your friend has filled me;
I am no longer a creature of evil.”

I wonder if the Rex could sense our
undying hesitation. We saw you ripped
to shreds. So he smiled the only way a
dinosaur can smile and waved his
vestigial arms awkwardly.
“I am sated. Do not fear me.”

And we rode him around,
if only for your memory.  

Plum Wine

Plum Wine

It slips from the tip of his tongue
to the soft flesh of my neck. Warm
plum wine marking otherwise flawless
skin. It spreads and takes an irregular form
but never settles as it should. It’s different.
I feel its need to move, to exist.

I cannot allow this, not just yet.
 My lust for the feelings it creates
have been freshly restored but as the wine
creeps so does my guilt. The memory
of how it was once received by another endures.
I shudder and think of only hiding the fervor.

Tendrils of my wheat-grass hair
cover the mark of indulgence from prying eyes.
As I leave, walking with a slow, steady gait
the wind teases it, lifting my hair
exposing the mark for just a moment.
All it really wanted: to be seen.

I feel that passion, it’s undying need.
“Expose me” it whispers, although I am unsure.
My hand moves to cover the imperfection
and it jumps, shifting away from being covered.
“If you do not, then I will,” it snarls,
the harsh sound resonating throughout me.

It moves steadily down my being
into the crevices between my ribcage.
Settling, the sweetness of the spirits
concaves into my bones, dyeing them
the same color as my neck. Ivory bones
jut out and transform slowly to amethyst.

They shimmer in the unseasonal sunlight.
As I walk by, others notice their beauty
or their pain. “Look how they pierce her skin.”
I run my hands over the splinters and feel
not pain, but the softness of change. Shifting
into something I had forgotten was there.

It permeates once more. My ribs, which poked
so precariously through my skin, recede back
into their natural position. Down it goes
over my pulsating diaphragm, through my stomach
and settles gently on my hips, like fingers running
across an abdomen in lover’s embrace.

There it stays, forcing inaudible sighs
through my opened mouth. The tickle
is almost unbearable, moving beneath my skin.
“Please,” I beg. Out of fear or desire,
I am not sure which. My eyes shut and I fall
slowly, into something no other could understand.

It stays, for just a moment more, before trickling down
my legs, over the humps of my knee-caps
into the tips of my toes, tinting them.
There, the revelry will reside until the day
I decide to let it go. A day that will not soon come.
Mocking, “Do not get your hopes up.”

Gerald

Gerald

He fades from turquoise to sapphire
in the clear bowl he calls home. Swim,
swim. All day long, he circles it. Content.
The river-bottom rocks that were purchased
so sentimentally from Wal-mart lead
him on. He is not free. He swims.

What kind of life is that? Trapped without trial
 circling the rim of a translucent prison.
He sees through the spherical window
into a distant world only characterized
by a phantasmal perception. Eerie,
the fish-eye camera snaps in a flash.

A rounded world of beings unknown
to his miniscule brain. They peer,
dropping tiny pieces of sustenance into his
home.
Home, where he eats, drinks, and defecates
in monotonous repetition.

His memory of such sights is not retaining
though and he forgets almost as soon as
he witnesses. Swim some more. Ignore.
His peripheral view is hardly worth mentioning
as he twitches violently to the side, wriggling through
the black and silver plastic plant, hiding from view.

Just as the world forgets about him
he forgets about the world. Swim.

Don't Look At Me and Judge

Don't Look At Me and Judge

The beauty of so much water is hard
to enjoy when lakes have formed where
 the ground once was. Oh, I miss the ground.
It’s super-saturated and pooling up on top
just like my heart does in a crimson drizzle.

My drizzle strengthens and pounds the asphalt.
As I fall, the immersion increases steadily.

Washing up our bodies in stagnant waves.
Shift from my perch on the porch
to a position more suitable to my flood.

Watch as a car floats by down the street
and into never-ending depths of the ocean.

I hope there are no people in it, I say from my bed,

sorry for them if they are. They’ll continue
until they are as lost as I am.

I am the rainstorm that washes people away.
Feel what I have felt; forced indoors.
Some girls next door run around, outside, screaming;
drenched bathing suits clinging to their shivering

bodies. Shut up, I think. I pull the covers to my chin.

Queue, roll over in bed. I shiver too.
Not from my downpour but from the a/c
which pours from its vent like the rain.  
They should be married, I sigh. Cold and wet

forever disputing one another.

I am worse. I sway back and forth
between gale and infuriating mist.
I would rather be the mist and settle
softly over the world in a wet blanket
of sleepy desire and vivid dreams.

Need

            Drink it up. Cool crisp water trickles into my body waking me from an eternal slumber. I stretch, still encased, still surrounded, testing the boundaries around me. They move, only a fraction of an inch but I relax. The sleepy haze that I had awoken in enveloped me again and the soft sound of moving water lulled me back into a trance.
…
            My legs ached. I stretched again, wary of the restraints I had encountered before and was surprised to find I could move. As I shifted my weight down towards my legs, they grew ever so slightlyand the welcome relief of space flooded my mind. The weariness left, the urgency sunk in. The soft sound of the water again heightened my senses and left me refreshed for something more. I turned my head upward but only darkness consumed my gaze. Stuck. I was stuck in this position, my every growing legs urging me upwards towards something completely unnattainable.
            I let my thoughts take me then. What was waiting for me up when the light finally reached my unseeing eyes? I felt out with my arms but again was kept from moving much. There was the water as well, ever present. I couldn’t get away from it, but I found myself uncaring that its presence was there. It was warmer as well. Now that my legs were stretched out, and ever moving towards stability I could feel the warmth of it all. `I sighed, the way I only knew how to sigh and curled in on myself once again. There would be another day, another time when the light would finally reach my eyes and I would have my chance to be free.
            The last thought that went through my mind before darkness took me again was simple: I hope the water doesn’t stop.
…
            ‘Your hand is free, wake up little one.’ I jolted awake, my head hitting the restraints again. They moved a few inches this time but still kept me safely at bay. My legs had stretched out as far as they could go for a while, the soft warm caress of the trickle of water sating their undying need to move and be free. ‘Your hand is free.’ The thought coursed through me again and flexed. My right hand moved ever so slightly, reaching further toward the warmth I so desperately craved. I felt something new tingle through my body.
            The water sated me, it flew over and around and threw me. It caused me to wake from my slumber, caused me to yearn for something that not even I understood. This new warmth from the light that hovered above destroyed all meaning. I needed to reach out and be in it. I needed the light to release me. It gave me energy to reach farther; more of my right hand pushing through the moistness of the trickle of the water.I tested my left hand. It was close to breaking free. “If only I could see where I was going!” I wanted to scream but no words formed on my lips and I was given silence again.
            My right hand warmed again though and suddenly my left one pushed up beside it. Two miniscule stubs in an unknown world was all the reassurance I had for my future. I wiggled both of my hands testing out their strength and was overwhelmed by my lack of energy. Where my hands were stretched out, cold welcomed them and I sighed again. I knew the feeling of fatigue as it washed over me and I settled in defeated. Resting my head against the walls of my prison, though faintly there, I closed my eyes and let sleep take me.  My hands curled in on themselves craving the warmth of my once prison and the darkness came.
…
            There’s not much to do while one is trapped and moving ever slowly towards an almost unnattainable target. I thought a lot over the next few days about where I was, what I was doing in this place and even thoughts of who I was went through my mind. I couldn’t remember how I got here or why I was trapped in such a deep dark place. My legs moved centimeters a day but the dull ache they used to have had now moved to the back of my mind. My arms reached out more now but I couldn’t get my head above the darkness.
            The warmth was my hope. Everyday I would wake up, my arms reaching as far as they could and pulling as much energy in as I could I’d wiggle a little upwards, a little closer to everlasting life. I wondered if I was the only one who was a slave to this yearning. My need to be out of this, although the bonds of my prison were almost gone, was diar. I would grow frustrated at times, forcing my body into the unnatural rythem of moving back and forth. Othertimes I would close in on myself, the sadness of it all not enough to even get me to reach out my hands for energy I so desperately needed. All hope would flit quietly out of my body and in its place was despair.
            Then there were the days where I let nature run its course. I would not wiggleany more than necessary, just allow my body to reach it’s self toward the common goal of freedom. It was these days where I got the farthest in my transition upwards. I was so close now! Any day I would pop through this barrier and be free with my hands to seek the warmth that would come everday. I needed this. My life depended on it.
…
            I took my time waking up this morning. Days ran together now, what problem could there be with me sleeping in. I didn’t notice that as my head lolled back in forth, shaking the black of sleep from my form, the ability to move it in multiple directions became easier and easier. My hands slithered away from my body, another movement that didn’t make me realize that something had changed. It wasn’t until my eyes fluttered open, the suddeness of light flooding through that I realized that I had broken through. I had broken through! Energy spread through my body as my head turned towards the light.
            Light petals of yellow that surrounded my face fell open soaking up as much of the force as possible. I could feel the energy travel down my body and to my feet which reacted instinctively, digging deeper down into the soft soil I had been placed in. My hands flared out, green veins pulsating and soaked in the light as well and my body arched upwards. Although planted I was sated. I saw the world as something different. All my life I had thought I was trapped, all my life all I had known was darkness and the soft trickle of water.
            My gaze, dreamy and uncaring, took in my surroundings as more of me, or like me, awoke to a brand new day. ‘Brothers and sisters…’ I thought taking in my surroundings. Meaning formed. I knew what I was, I knew how I had been created, I knew why I yearned for this warmth of light from the sun. Yes that was what it was called, the sun. Again my head tilted back and the energy from the sun enveloped me. Sure, I was still trapped but I could see and I could feel and you know what? Being a pansy felt just right to me.

Bubble (Rewrite)

Bubble (Rewrite)

Birth.
A first look at this world.
A fish-eye view from the sky;
the innocence of bewilderment reflected in spectrums.

Freedom.
Earned through creation
after confinement in the womb
relinquishes hold and liberates for the world.

          Life, movement

                                                                                  Life, transition

                                          Life, discovery

                                                                                                                                     Life, tragedy

                                                                    Life, triumph

                       Life, wisdom
Life, experienced
Death.
Metamorphosis into soul;
the beauty of it all appears
in a single flash of a dappled apparition.

Repeat indefinitely.

Untitled

I am caramelized.
My body oozes down yours;
the Italian of your skin
melding with the cream-satin of mine.

I whisper, so the wind may carry
all that cannot be said.
When I dance,
I only dance for you.
All other eyes, for there will be others,
can wash over me.

You are the only bath I wish to take.

And when I finally make that fateful
decision, you will look at me in awe.
My patience for you wears
but thing is not the word.
Although you are not truly mine
the smell of you still lingers
in the recesses of my memory.

Do you smell me to?

Your dog cuddles in between us in bed.
She is small and shivers violently.
You draw her close to you,
quieting the shaking and the loving grunts.
Will you pull me to your body as you do her?
“I love you so much –insert my name-“
as you nuzzle my cheek affectionately.
Wow. Priceless.

I just compared myself to a dog.

That Sunday when I left you standing
in front of your house, your parents watched.
The too-short hug, the meeting of eyes,
my longing for your mouth to brush mine,
saying goodbye with one simple motion;
they saw and they watched my car
trail down the road away from you.

The witnessed more than they knew.

I have never written a love poem
and I know the word is powerful
but you told me you were falling.
My hand will trace down your back
and you will shudder as you always do;
come towards me instead of away,
conflicted by the past.

I am only you and you,
You are me.

The Defeat of Summer

The Defeat of Summer

The silver lining has fallen from

sullen clouds hanging

lazily

over the pond behind our house.

The snapping turtles sunning

in the open sky, mouths agape

and luring, ready to snap a leg

or stick in

two pieces.

Our canoe, whose hull has rotted,

rests gently on the bank,

muddy water lapping against it.

The quiet lick of wetness teasing

the faded red bodice, ever so slowly

drawing it back to the recesses of

home.

The seasoned chirp of the bullfrog

serenade, lulling the eco--

system

toward the slow-paced life

necessary for such a place. Sediment

drifts to the bottom and then

between children’s toes and through

the cracks.

Their bodies tinged brown by summer days

converge at the surface, wary of the

depths below. The lone catfish,

rumored to be thirty pounds,

lurking, waiting for tender morsels

the shape

of metatarsals.

Soon, the days will grow slow

and chariots the color of mustard will

appear

to shuttle their laughter

leaving our pond in silence. The

snapping turtles will nestle into the mud,

fabled catfish disappearing further

into darkness, whispering he

will return.

The croak of the bullfrog

throaty and deep, rumbling will signal

the departure of warm afternoons.

It is only when small bodies return,

goose-pimples clothing them

in a patterned flesh suite,

that it truly ends. Leaving

in its wake

autumn.