Poems

the dreams
fell on me like

angel dust
and i was turning
so fast i

could not stop,
in this world of stars

where lovers orbit
the earth like moons

I was caught,
spinning my own circles,
feet tapping galaxies
and comets filling the sky.

I still do not know why
I had those dreams



(and still)

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i wish to part this crimson curtain
so heavy with the blood drip -
ping from the tapestry
and chords of string
pulling at my limbs so they
s t r e t c h
and i am spread across
the stage like a carpet of veins,
throbbing,
each pulse of life a shred of agony
paper skin so taut,
and finally tearing,
ripping,
giving way,

a (hole)

where a heart used to beat,

like a window

to a river of blue.

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did you see past the veils

of mist that i wove

around my face and hands

such delicate traceries

like spiderwebs,

those reveries i spin

everyday

in my head and on my heart

i etch your name

into a corner of the wall

amidst the shadowed shelves,

often forgotten,

but waiting to be read.

i am the midnight rose

that lies black on your breast

pressing close,

against your ragged brea –

ths / til’ i drink you in.

this deadened night,

i am the sweet cloying smell

of jasmine,

in the morning you will not find

me

wrapping my stem around you,

but the burn of rubber on tar.

leaves crackle underfoot,

a door is left ajar –

there is no gentleness in this endeavour,

not mine.

the world always flies by

toofastinablur

and even before the

dawn starts to slur

its way across the sky,

(i am already gone)

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