ambergris

i didn't not know it
until it's too late
                                   never
i'd known
have always known
and knowingly let you closer in
      (i for love)
when you dove depths in search of me
      (you for treasure)
i believe you could slice
deeper than the depths i dwell
you of arms as strong
as those fingers are gentle
wielding the sickle
that shone like the moon
you promised me

you who have preservered
      where others have not
are the one who carves
on me the gaping incision
(the smile my mouth could never form)
and with those fingers subtle
      slowly      delicately
tear me apart
                            not
for the heart of my soul
which to you is completely
      worthless
but for the priceless nugget
you will exchange for boundless
      bounty

it is this
                      (and not i)
that is the treasure
in your eyes

breakfast (of champions)

... and so nice        to wake up        with
ripe sweet fruit        between my lips
i apply gentle        pressure        careful
not to burst the berry        yet

                                                            i want
to savor the         moment      the slow
delicious burn        of desire        anticipation
first tasting the      dew      with the tip
of my      tongue      a lazy lick that barely
skims the surface

                                    then        very         slowly
suck harder        and harder        and harder
as if to crush        the grape        and drink
the wine that        gushes forth        into my
mouth

                 the finest        champagne
i will never get        enough of
                                                          cupping
my hands        i tilt your face towards mine
drink deeply        intoxicated        by your
scent        the taste of your lips        the

sensation        warm/wet        pliant/supple
of your tongue        on mine
                                                      your muffled
mmmmmmmm        echoing mine
                                                                   how lovely
it is        this breakfast we have

                                                                in bed

Pink Elephants

Pink elephants are frolicking
      in my martini
            they are playing beach volley
      with my maraschino cherry!

   The Jiminy Cricket Jazz Trio
                                          performs
      in yours!
Ha!
       I don't suppose
                              you could rescue
            the butterfly trapped in
my hair ...?

                      Could you?
         My hair! My hair!
                                      There!

I think it will melt
on my tongue -

                        Is it spun sugar?

                               Can I have a lick
of that chair?
                   It's so red ...
                                        Mm-mhmmm!      Yum ...

Please?

You look so beautiful tonight.
You're beautiful beautiful beautiful beautiful beautiful beautiful beautiful -

What?      Your beau i' full?
            Then he can go home.             Shoo! Shoo!

                              You stay here with me.

You know why?
                       Because I've such a huge crush
on you -
               crush crush crush crush crush crush crush crushcrushcrush ...
CRUSH!
Ow!
      The pink elephants
            have stomped on my toe!

I've a huge crush -

Don't be silly!
                           I'm not drunk -
          don't swallow Jiminy Cricket!

I just have a huge crush on you.

things in life

i had a crush
before i even knew what
a 'crush' was

things in life
- experienced, done -
sometimes (often)
before the awareness
of its name
its meaning
could transpire

maybe one night i'll fall asleep
and realize i've been dreaming all along

maybe one day i'll wake up
and realize i'm alive after all

Alone At The Table

This morning, my girlfriend sat down to breakfast with me. I made us scrambled eggs, toast, and coffee. She nursed a mug of coffee and chain-smoked. Coffee and cigarettes: with those, she never seems to be in want of anything, never seems to want anything.

I ate the eggs swimming in a pool of silence and watched smoke unravel lazily in wisps from the glowing tip of her cigarette. Much like how she disentangles her long limbs from mine every morning - deliberately but without thought, unhurried.

Time moves at a different pace in her universe than me; perhaps much slower, perhaps it doesn't move at all. More than once have I thought of her as the still point of the turning world.

"So," she finally said, then said nothing at all. The eggs cleanly polished off, I started to work my jaws methodically on the toast, watching her.

It is never difficult to imagine a body of water between the two of us. When I'm around her, I feel everything around and about me slows down - my heart, my breathing, my thoughts - as if my body and my self unconsciously realize that the only way to meet her is to be where she is: at the still point of the turning world.

The crunch of toast in my ears sounded like a rush of bubbles underwater. I imagined kicking my legs hard, working my arms vigorously; I imagined swimming my way to her, out of my body, into hers; I imagined I would find the woman I love there, and she had been waiting for me to swim to her all along.

Suddenly, the familiar smell of her filled my nose. I realized then she had stopped, on her way out of the kitchenette, to plant a kiss on my hair. I grabbed her hand before she could pass me by, pulled her in for a kiss, hard and deep; whether to plunge into her or pull her out, I didn't know.

But she disentangled herself from me - deliberately but without thought, unhurried.

"Where are you?" I asked her.

She gave me a slow lovely smile. "There," she told me, and left the kitchenette, mug of coffee and a cigarette in hand.

Alone at the table, for the very first time, I went with her.

Thank You, Mistress

Ah, black shoe in which
I have lived -
no more, no more!

I wear them now
(these boots are gonna
 walk all over you) -

you're gonna kiss them,
lick them clean,
when I say so.

You will fucking blow my shoes
if I say so,
shoes blacker than my heart
and soul.

Then you'll thank me
(say, Thank You, Mistress)

for planting them
on your ass,
in your face,
while you eat dirt.

Say,
Thank You, Mistress.

And if you've been good,
I might allow you to
kiss my ass.

But only if you're on your knees
begging me please, Mistress,
please.

one second

if you could but reach me then
i would touch you now

and what a world
of difference
it would be

but one missed second then
has snowballed into years
and now lay before our separate paths
the future

who would've known then
a whole new universe
created in but one second

Are You ...?

Why are you looking at me?
                                                      Don't
look at me this way; don't.

What are you think about -
how you can kick me hit me
rape me spit on my face then
lynch me?

Why are you looking at me
this way?
Like I'm any different
than you.
I'm flesh and blood,
I hurt,
I bleed red ...

Maybe that's where we differ,
you and I:
I have a heart
pumps blood
red throughout my body;
you don't.
Your blood runs tar-black
with hate.

                       Don't
call me paranoid; don't.
They are out to get us,
they are.
Do you remember
Brandon Teena? Matthew Shepherd?
Danny Overstreet? JR Warren?
Barry Winchell? Jack Gaither?
Bill Clayton? Tyra Hunter?
What about the ones who never made
the papers,
what about the crimes that were
never reported?
What about the ones who daily
suffer not physical blows
but emotional and psychic ones?
The children whose parents
kicked out of house and home;
the children whose parents
forced reparative therapy?

So don't call me paranoid,
don't.
They are out to get us.
Why are you looking at me
this way?

Are you one of them?

Cada Beijo

Cada beijo bom
Hummm, que saudades
De te beijar

not alone
i can't

come
bite me
i am ready
to be bitten

i think it's time
to fall in love

again

temptation

such a struggle
between two selves

not
to enter you
when you are so near
and open

to enter you
and beg for succor
solace
sharp sting
that liquisce
into that delicious
spicy
shiver

you know what i mean?

as much as i dislike
waking up on rainy day mornings

i love waking up
to rain in the morning



you know what i mean?

one more time?

my skin cannot contain my self
who is leaping out

to saunter with swaying hips to you
force my right leg between your knees
bend down
smile
(wink)
stroke your hair
caress your cheek your jaw
(or more)
swerve my ass around
undulate slowly
touch down
on private grounds
take your right arm
drape it way below my navel
your hand rests on my pelvic bone
your left arm
fling up between my breasts
your hand on my collar bone
(touch me if you can)
lean back on you
slowly sway right
then to the left
my bottom firmly pushed
onto private grounds
release my grasp on your grasp
on me
spread my knees
pushing yours with mine
lean forward
push up
my buttocks a kiss away
from your face
(do you dare?)
close my legs
slink around
to the back of the chair
in constant friction with you
hands on your shoulders now
right hand strokes you
arm hips leg
and back up
left hand touches you
chest thigh calf
and back up
one step
my right leg swings up
slices the air
to trap you tight
between my thighs
tantalize you with a mere
breath of air
between
your nose and the valley
of my breasts
my body surges and recedes
body waves
within licking distance
and then away
hands planted firmly on your shoulders
i dismount

one more time?

(or have you lost count?)

untitled

blindsided - again
i never ever see it coming
why?

it's okay in the shower
in the shower it's just water
running though your hair
water running down your cheeks
but even then
you must deal with it
you must

if any good came out of it
it's this:
you realize now you run
not out of fear
but from fear
the old fear
same fear
childhood fear
of loud noises directed at you
the fear of being punished
the punishment that was abandonment
the fear of being abandoned
all alone
in this world

even if it's okay
in the shower
you must deal with it
don't cry
don't
cry
angry now
don't
cry
you must deal with it

but then you think about
the red lines running down
your arms
your bare unmarked arms
tingle in anticipation
the old mirage
that scares you
more than being blindsided
that makes you sadder
than what blindsided you

no it's not okay in the shower
stay angry
it should be water
remember:
you promised yourself
you'd deal with it
so deal with it
(how does everybody else
deal with it?)

it doesn't hurt
at least not in the way
you're used to
it doesn't hurt at all
it can't hurt if you don't feel it
and you don't feel it

step out of the shower
dry off
you can't bear to look at yourself
in the mirror
(is it shame?)
you can spend the rest of the night
gazing at your pale arms
under the lamplight
you can see the faint aquamarine rivers

you can spend the night
revisiting the old room in your house
of imagination
and feel the tingle
it's making you forget about
being blindsided

you think about how the buildings
that look the strongest
the most impregnable
only look that way
as if in over-compensation
of the straw that made their walls

just by looking strong
even the most tenacious of wolves
would not think about
breathing on these walls
which will collapse
at the faintest trickle
of breath

maybe i need some chocolate

Dad sends text:

Just been informed
of a rumor that 7
women have died
in Gleneagles from
smelling free
perfumed sachets
sent to their
homes. Please be
careful.

while I sit on the toilet
in the ladies' room
contemplating
the hurt
/septum. please
/scarlet bracelets
/the aesthetic values of a professional
scarification session vs.
the more personal significance
of a DIY job
/whether the vanilla happiness
i once had
is preferable to my current
masala misery

blue in the face since this morning
my Zen NEEON still freezes
at that word:

Deleting ...

bruised iv: i wear your presents on my sleeve

bruises are the only
true currency

the common tongue written
on the tabula rasa of our skin
gentle reminders
of an ever-changing language
uttered by all
from newborns to the dying

***

the dragonfly who painted me
left me none
the man who adorned me
left me none

you who never touched me
left me the worst one

***

you send me bruises when you leave
i wear your presents on my sleeve

***

i return to the one
who adorn me with jewels
and with pain

your first lesson
to forget and remember
and forget again

i’ll find the dragonfly
who’ll sing me a lullaby
in the tongue that’s
yours and mine

your only lesson
to remember and forget
and remember again

***

perhaps you can walk away
again
and i will turn the other way
mutely murmuring that language
you first taught me

i shall prove to be
the most eloquent speaker
yet

walk away again
perhaps now
i would break

and what is broken
will not bruise

(iamnothereiamnothere)

i drift among the crowds a lost balloon              it’s the empty shell they see        (iamnothereiamnothere)        the real me’s walking through Morpheus’ realm              not remembering              what i made up what i didn’t              can they tell? they’re telling me              i don’t listen i don’t believe        (iamnothereiamnothere)        they’re not real i made them up        (iamnothereiamnothere)        they’re real they made me up              while they dream i am real              while i dream they are not        (iamnothereiamnothere)        i dream they shot an arrow at my balloon-head        (iamnothereiamnothere)        they dream i burst              the real me's through Morpheus’ realm              not remembering              what i made up what i didn’t        (iamnothereiamnothere)        they’re not real i made them up        (iamnothereiamnothere)        they’re real they made me up              while they dream i am real              while i dream they are not        (iamnothereiamnothere)

idon'tknowidon'tknowidon'tknow

where do they come from
that color my skin?
                idon'tknow

when did i get them
that mark my limbs?
                idon'tknow

i'm pierced and inked
(where you've not seen)
i'm bruised and broken
(not where you think)

if you (don't) ask
who or what or why
                you(don't)know

COGITO ERGO DOLEO

thus while i may
i dream

and while i dream
i sleep

and when i wake
all that will be left
are

dashed hope
dissipating into air

dried blood
dissolving into sea

the world exists only for us

there is a cool breeze
it glissades along my arms
i breathe its fragrance

there are no stars
but the lemon-drop moon melts on my tongue
and i feast on the cotton-candy clouds

my promises are not empty
the universe is mine to give
anything you want will be yours
(would you like to have my balloon?)

tomorrow
we will remember that the world exists
only for us
and not that we are intoxicated
tonight

Girl from Hadria

i dreamed of you
dark-haired and smart
and beautiful

but I woke up
and forgot all about you

it's for the best

POPBANGBOOM!

balloon heart
burst by a single prick
(so many pretty balloons
  so little time!)

when the scraps of rubber have been collected
when painstakingly sello-taped together
when filled again with helium hope
when let loose

fly highhighhigher

out of reach
of needless painful pricks

smokescreen

no words
from the wise
save the signals
from their vice