Wednesday, May 2, 2018

Thomas and Friends, Ep. 102701

This fight was never between us,
So it feels strange that the silence is. 
And if you are waiting on me to speak,
I want you to know all this:

Thomas and Friends, Ep. 102701

Siblings are like trains on the same track,
A tragic wreck for one is but
A nail biting delay for the other.

I want you to have your own journey.
While I know of old debris 
that you may come across,
I hope your narrative can place it in
some kind of glad treasure-box:
This is why I am clutching so tightly to mine.

But one day,
When our tracks are changed,
Perhaps we can reflect then:
on our vastly different engines;
the dryness of my noisy gears,
corroded by years of salty tears.

And so when it is long passed,
We will finally get our signals uncrossed:
Separate the steam from the smoke, 
backtrack, restore blown stacks.

Meanwhile, please know:
I love you.
I have a happy ear perked for your whistle,
And at the inevitable end of the embargo:
Also, a happy heart with room for your cargo.
This is not derailed, 
we are just side-tracked—
there is no grade to make, 
no end on this line:
we will always be fine.

Friday, April 20, 2018

Guardian Angel

It is the same plate 
My fork scratched years ago
There is a little bit of me etched in it.
Hidden in the gold-maroon of its border,
Is the ghost of me
For your consumption

I am also hidden somewhere in your thoughts,
In your unconscious responses. 
Perhaps, in your enjoyment of glitter.

I am happy with this past.
My wishes are glad.
Piecemeal-me is nourishing:

The spirit is no poltergeist.

Saturday, December 9, 2017

What makes

a two year old the object of a physically violent fight?
a five year old deserve to be told her father would break all her bones?
a seven year old make an "I hate you" version of the Barney song?
an eight year old teach her friends how to masturbate?
a ten year old try to suicidally poison herself?
an eleven year old wish someone would marry her so she didn't have to live at home anymore?
a thirteen year old protest constantly being called a whore (and other expletives) by family?
a nineteen year old have a 50% chance of catching on record vicious hate at any given time?

An incomprehensive list
An incomprehendable life

Does it take a battered mother?
Does it take dozens of silent bystanders?
Does it take a community of enablers?
Does it take one rich, abusive man?

When will there be a #metoo for me?
When will I be free to share?
When will anyone ask how I am?
When will there be acknowledging and recovering?
When will everyone stand up to this?
When will anyone stand up to this?

every night I fall asleep; a hundred times under my breath:
"please be today. please be today. please be today."

Monday, June 12, 2017

Budgets

At
Graveyard hour
Your body crushes me.
Bones are stones.

Insomniacs together,
Blaming the other:
A future of guilt
Victims of 
pointless stress;
Punch clocks

As we lie in the 
Brightest darkness
Every breath, every micro-movement
We are playing 
monkeys jumping on the bed 

There is some red, 
Some dazzling blue:
in the purple of my
Black-eye.

Oh honey,
Lady liberty won't bleach 
our linens white 
anymore 
So sleep on the floor

Or bleed more frugally 

Wednesday, December 14, 2016

A Post-factual Romance

I met you in a magic way
The morning after 
A long night 
When my laughter rang strong

I think you tasted my 
Heartbeat-shade-lipstick
in the alleyway kiss of a lifetime 
And guessed 

that I come from a time that remembers 
Blood must be pumped into the brain
Before its first command is spoken

You are also well versed in the 
weaknesses of brains
Tricks of perception

Yes, there are facts of reality
But we all know the word is fiction

Spaceships don’t scare those who remember
oxygen is just a group of letters

You pushed me
Against the cold-graffiti-shutters
I felt my back press onto a warm bed of feathers

That was the moment I knew 
brave-lovemaker
Your art is building the world I want
A world where the heart is remembered

Lost Coverage

There is a tactile love
that grabs you in your sleep
A love of
kisses that once killed Keats

We live in a world of tailgating 
easy lovers
brashly hopeful for a fortunate accident

But the memory of touch 
is from a back-alley affair

the kind that makes overfull stomachs ache
and windswept hairs stand 
as we frigidly shake
Naked, uninsured

A blue-road accident
unwitnessed, unfortunate
leaves me nothing but a scar
in settlement

be warned that
a left-handed lover 
does not negotiate

and
for years to come you will receive
Morpheus-Mail
bills to remind you that
your damages 

must still be paid

Tuesday, November 8, 2016

Sail On, Silver Girl

A puppet of hate is only
As much as the connectomes
(semi-consciously)
pulling the strings


We are the food we eat
the air we breathe
the water we drink

If we are to unite the world with us,
then:

We must share our organic bread,
plant trees also in our neighbors’ yards
publish blueprints for clean water

Let us not mistake fear for hate
Let us seek to understand
And let us remember hope
everyday

For each of our troubles is all consuming
And each of our stories will be quilted
into the blanket for an inevitable winter

Let more of us be made of wool than of paper

Love is remembering
That every one of our neighbors
is made from love
and only schooled in ideology

Listening is hard work
But it is knowing the tune
That makes for song

And music exists equally
in city; village; church and crackhouse.