Status Updates From Cables to Rage

I share my face with you
but love becomes a lie
as we suffer through split masks
seeking the other half-self

We are hung up
in giving
what we wish to be given
ourselves.

I think of a coffin’s quiet
When I sit in the world of my car
Separate and observing
With the windows closed and washed clean
By the rain. I like to sit there
Watching other worlds pass.

Rooming houses
are old women waiting
searching
through their darkening windows
the end or beginning of agony
old women seen through half-ajar doors
hoping
they are not waiting
but being
an entrance to somewhere
unknown and desired
and not new.

We are hung up
in giving
what we wish to be given
ourselves.

Rooming houses
are old women waiting
searching
through their darkening windows
the end or beginning of agony
old women seen through half-ajar doors
hoping
they are not waiting
but being
an entrance to somewhere
unknown and desired
and not new.

The image is fire
sun warming us in a cold country
barren of symbols for love.

"Atfer a first book" and "The Dozens" are favorites in this collection so far.

Making it
My body arcing across your white place
we mingle color and substance
wanting to mantle your cold
I share my face with you
but love becomes a lie
as we suffer through split masks
seeking the other half-self.
We are hung up
in giving
what we wish to be given
ourselves.

Sowing

Conversation in crisis

speak to you as a friend speaks
or a true lover
not out of friendship or love
but for a clear meeting
of self upon self
in sight of our hearth
but without fire

fearing
we may neither love nor dismiss

Death is a word you can say now
pain is mortal