August 28, 2014
I sometimes lose my sensibility in others
to the point where I no longer recognize my values
where my sense of self is lost in their actions
that unwaveringly bizarre note of obligation
as if I owe them my good deeds and willful thoughts
while there is no greater judge of pragmatism
than my own windowless heart in its body
although these people do not inhabit my mind
they do not know where my frailty comes from
they are merely looking in from some distance beyond
and I find that I have no contract by which to obey them
and cater to their ridiculous whims
as I can be just as singular-minded as them
and lose nothing but my own sanity
on my own selfish terms.
August 25, 2014
Check all the emergency exits,
leftover inventory should be stocked,
the isles are clear and equipment is returned.
Exit through the red double doors
as the last person takes their leave
and the clock strikes midnight.
I run to my car and turn up the heat.
It’s time to head over to meet everyone,
maybe have a drink or three before morning.
We laugh at the grueling week it’s been,
complaining of the neverending day we just had
and cheer to a night with so many limits.
I cruise home on a dark and brisk freeway.
I turn up the volume to Thomas’ high-pitched voice.
I think of the synthesizers and how they remind me of him.
I wonder what could happen in the chaos.
Like a lasso that aims too high,
I fall short of my target in the moonlit road before me.
July 2, 2014
Balmy nights and flirty eyes,
music on the beach in the evenings,
inhaling all the shitty air our lungs cling to,
his beating heart thousands of miles away,
the vines in the garden moist with expectation,
the promise of poetry before bedtime in the morning,
standing in line for a Savages set,
giving life back to music,
chasing this temperamental existence,
all the romanticism of modern living,
decadent eats on our table out in the street,
speeding home with the windows down,
our voices lost from earlier in the day,
the moon disappearing behind the skyscrapers,
silence befalls our spinning heads,
our love is sealed into the future,
we’re the children of summer.
June 7, 2014
I’ve shed my old form in place of a new one,
the unseen residue falling away in unnerving patches of dead cells.
My bather has wonderfully strong arms,
she rubs away at years of turmoil,
back and forth she goes like an ox,
her motions dedicated and effective.
My naked body is a palette for life.
One day it will decay into the earth,
it will lose its poetic silkiness,
it will no longer bring others forth.
Yet now it’s warm to the touch,
soft like a gust of dandelions,
full and beautiful to behold.
I want to make love in this new skin,
I want to be kissed everywhere,
I want to revel in my softness,
in this revelatory appreciation of my mortality.
I want to be told the moon is mine for a night,
to be read Neruda till dawn,
to live in this hallucination.
Come with me I whisper sweetly.
You’ll never fly back down.