Posts Tagged ‘longing’

Words About Some Things

February 13, 2010

the articulated sounds I have made

to throw a blind dart at the target of

what happens keep falling short

and arcing away, my murder mirrors

and throat fires and gut strings

beat tiny fists against padded

walls crying to be heard,

beyond rescue.

.

there are things to say about time

and distance and irony that are being said

better than I will say them, I am tired

from pulling against formless

draw-and-quarter horses spurred

by cynics hungry for something honest

to be destroyed for the sake of

being honest.

.

the last thing I have left is

speechlessness when

an involuntary agh sighs

through a collapsing chest

and speaks volumes, hold

me.


To Ratchet, Darling: This Is Not My Best, But I Did It For You.

December 26, 2009

two dozen foil-covered dishes splay out

grease and fat made proudly by my

discerning relatives, one set of wrinkled

silver tops devouring another.

.

my eyes glaze like

uncovered gravy

going solid in the beige

Pyrex behind the second

dish of deviled eggs.

.

my aunts and grandmother

talk about homosexuals.

.

did you hear about Brian and his ‘friend’

…..……you know they won’t be having children

……….(laugh laugh laugh)

but you can’t judge ‘em

………….no, you have to love’em, they’re still

…………family

I don’t think God made ‘em that way

I think they choose to be like that

.

we humans have trouble with

presence without pretext,

pesky “I think, therefore I am

uncomfortable” leaving us unable

to sit silent with each other, radiating

happiness by simple fact of I am not alone

and we are not alone together.

.

I would rather kneel

eyes closed, bare neck

against your black velvet

throat, nerves to skin to fur

to skin to nerves singing it is good

that you are here it is good that we

touch your presence against my presence

is good it is good we are together here it is

good it is good it is good back and forth in primal

love rite language deeper felt than words

left unregistered by your

beautiful brain.

The Big Dogs

December 10, 2009

the big dogs eat my heart, oh my god,

the big dogs weave themselves into

my limbs as I sleep like casts for

all-over fractures and breathe deep

to massage my jagged jigsaw bones

back into place.

.

they say things like “we are one” and

“you are ours, and we are yours.”

they howl burial hymns that scythe

men’s souls to shards like murder

mirrors bouncing future pictures

back of awkward, messy ends;

men blush and weep, ashamed

of ugly, indifferent deaths.

.

the big dogs blaze strength like martyrs

in my weakness, they hunt in packs,

they think like us but cannot speak.

I love them, my god, I love them

so much; I feel their souls through

the fur on their necks

because they choose to live

in the open.  the big dogs

have no home but themselves;

I go where they go, I sleep where

they sleep.  they are my guides

and keepers, they know the place

where I will die, they will carry me

on their soft, strong backs as I go.