morning nymphs

Burnt the color of plaid skies
The smoke rises softly near the tumbledryer
i have been careful to wash my socks separately
To sift throught the day with an endelss paitence
To darkness

You sit crosslegged on the edge of a dream
Cracked betweeen what you want and where you can be
between the Ariel packs and the figures of speech
Sweetened by a woman's belly
Shaking with inhilations
To think men hold onto day to day demanor
The way they do cigarettes,
Handy and so thin

There are always women at the end of your dream
Tumbling, creaking with Warmth
There are no Sultans in the laundry room
And women do not grow in pomegranate
But there's always food, for the thoughts
Emitting from the burning skies
And the carrying of my colored socks,
Too bright for the evening, you are helpful


You were altered with my thirst to realms, emitting purple hues
The room spins whilst still standing
And the hash takes the men, you- drowsy
To the nearest creek, to bathe, to hold, to catch
Naked nymphs

Future daugther

Dear child, please dont accept what strangers demand
Or the wishes they give
For i never  wish you my impatience
Nor the imp's kiss on your father's cheek
Painting the nursery black
Before the flowering of spring

After the tickles, ask about love

Taunting the words out of me is easy
just tickle my edges, a little on the waist
more under the arm and I shrill with the touch
of my legs. I have always been sensitive to theft
as I have been with attempted laughter
like wrapping made to fit the situation
stop running your hands into the curve of my fine lines
just above the fat storage unit, just bellow my midnight thoughts

you hit me with questions of abstracts
things I understood at thirteen and let go of at thirty
there are wider oceans than humans have found,
yes, there's an end to sadness and no, I don't have the questions
I think that the rest of the world would wait
till I formulate my answer

Enough with this going about, once pestering
and then jesting, I will spill out the beans
each for a certain day-
starting now I will assure you when you
ask about love, it is not gone
but  I have told you once
that a child has no power to hate
only to wreck a little, for creativity's sake.

a white face haunts tonight

Your face is white tonight
the trace of fear has left you, this time it is forever
so has the trace of sand and its mixing of water
to cement, to pave, not to build

expectations are worse than reality, most of the time
your face, whiter than dough sits ahead of me muttering
don't promise an everlasting spring
when you can only afford clouds

your face is white tonight
the song on your lips has been sealing itself
away from mine, there's enough indentation
to fill the choice of skipping lipstick

glossy for the generation of new blood,
you can always look beneath the covers
dig the reason for this rush toward ethereal
masks dipped in yogurt, take my hand but don't squeeze it

your face is white tonight,
you have skipped a meal and a prayer
the candles melted in the kitchen
and the pepper bursts into flames in front of the Madonna

forgive me if I seal your eyes
with the back of my hand, with a brush of my hair
your face is white tonight
I couldn't help but notice,
you were also a little cold.

Tracks

The train tracks are frigid
there's a sound to the cold, husky
rusty and elongating like a tooting
that rises out of tunnels, tonight
I lay, captured by the mist on the train tracks
mesmerized, in my pocket a ticket
for the train that will take me home

Late reactions

Coffee rings on the clean cloth
In the tray, unsmoked ash
The bed is unmade, you've slept.

floral

Never mix two patterns,
there's always a variation of temperature
For the reaping of flowers doesnt harm the animals
Not all of them, i hope

Today there are flower petals on the windowsill
Announcing the beginning of sprining forth to life
today you are sitting facing a chair of iron and wheels
A little disdain doesnt kill anyone

Keep looking at thr petals
maybe it will remind you
That you are still alive