Your Son

Will she tell you now? This morning
when all the twigs and buds on trees
are shimmering, winkling against one another
and you are holding her son’s cold face
against your breast, and you are weeping.
Will she tell you now, now that the chance
not to love him is past? You stripped off
your jacket last night when you [...]

Lament for a Modern Danae (DRAFT-A-LICIOUS)

I
There were nights of motion, of wetness,
of weeping and pleasure, of ghasping for air.
Once, she lived in desire. She woke in the night
to the feel of you between her legs. You were
her Zeus, your hand sliding into her was a shaft
of moonlight melding her life to yours, creating in her
a divine pregnancy. [...]

Home

On your back, I traced the words I was too scared
to say. You followed the path of my fingers, though,
and were disappointed by my fear. When you asked
me to give voice to that sentiment, I thought you
could be my new home. I am obsessed with a house
two blocks south of my apartmet. [...]

It’s morning again

I keep expecting to run out of new mornings.
I got a new vacuum for Christmas, I ran it twice
last night after putting it together using the cheaply
printed instructions. My old vacuum hadn’t worked
in months. It collected a trash bag full of dog hair.
I put it in the trash can immediately. [...]

When I was a dominatrix

I.
you drove me to work every afternoon laughing
at how easy it can be to earn so much, to do
so little. I never told you about the seventeen
minutes of fear, alone in a room with this unknown,
possible peditor, the way I listened with my whole
body; I felt what should come next. You saw me:
the [...]

Poetry Bombs

I am thinking of starting a reading/writing/critiqu group here in Columbus, Ohio. Here are a few things we will do
* Meet in local bars, coffee shops, and resteraunts once every two weeks
* share recently written or discovered poems
* offer critique when asked for
* divvying out of poetry assignments
* offer chances for collaboration
* bring poetry [...]

Seal these wounds

I’ve been drowning my fears
in astringent and slitting them
open with the tip of a knife.
Your words can dissolve
the edge of my anger, but only
motion can wipe the residue
of horror and sadness
off of my skin. Only the feel
of paper against my index finger
or the warmth that lies
inside your mouth can seal
these wounds I created.

The Poet

So, here you are, rubbing words
against words to see the sparks
they create in a world gone cold
without meaning. One day,
you noticed you were alone.
You read aloud, throwing your words
at the lamps, breaking dishes
with their velocity. They bounced
off walls in search of ears, keeping
you awake at night. You knew
you had to find [...]

What I told you

I can remember the low orange glow
of lamplight lost in the high cielings
of my first apartment in this city
casting the shadow of your profile
on the wall when I told you
my poems are all fiction, and none
would really be about you. I told
you you might recognize gestures,
movements, but these have been
ripped out of life at [...]

An unknown illness reveals need

Then the world blurred into color,
sound, and the lack of ground
beneath my feet. This would be
death, but for the cool porciline
of the bathtub against my sweaty
face and the question of what to do
with my last moments. Getting up, struggling
thru double vision, arms and legs dancing
towards the bed, a sickening marionette.
I hold in my mind [...]