In his eyes
you see the world,
with a tear
his sweetness.
He listens through his touch
magic seeps through his skin
and love through his eyes.
He can make fire with two fingers
and electricity with one.
He'll show you the whole world
and in return he'll ask for none.
I haven't known you long
you said,
you felt like we were friends.
I said I feel it too
because
in a crowd, I turn to you.
I let your eyes flood mine
though
with others I won't look.
I've been waiting for this
awhile now, but
it's been worth the time it took.
You are not my father.
I must remember this
when I fill you with distrusts
laid on ground already tread.
You are not my former lovers.
I must remember this
when I feel pressure instilled
from beds before this one.
You are not all men.
I must remember this
as my anger boils over
the treatment of all women.
You are one man.
Not mine to own,
but mine to love
freely for the sake
of growth,
intertwined
but always
our own.
When the radio blares
Who will you be?
The killer or the kill-ee.
And when it goes silent
When our voices drop
Did you stop, or was it me?
Perceive and persist
the ego whispers
for when thinking stops,
it has no life left.
And with its death
lies the steady ebb
of a silent mind
and peaceful breath
We bicker
all the time.
Is it because
we love more deeply?
deep enough
to not risk loss,
deep enough
to show each other
our ugliest selves
and taste love
without
rejection
You cannot desire something you already own,
so we must let our lovers go
and though pain will fill the gaps
between our careful words
there is no peace in comfort,
our release is ours to earn.
Trust your gut,
they say.
but I feel too much
at all the wrong moments
and can only sink
and let the universe
move me.
I crawled into a hole
inside a dream
to see magic.
They asked me
do you want to go deeper?
and I did.
So I let go
and I fell down
until I saw God
and felt gratitude
that they all
loved me
and wanted me
to wake up.
Trading puffs of cigars I didn't inhale
we sat in a basement and didn't feel
like the kids we were.
We drove on back roads
and on bikes through open fields
Alone for the first time
you and I at your parents' house
only our shoulders touching.
I just spent a weekend
where I was surrounded by people
and each person there
loved another person there
forming a chain of bonds
built with undeniable strength
that lifted us all above ourselves
and opened each one of us to the other
and for the first time in a long time
I felt completely worthwhile.
When the radio blares
Who will you be?
The killer or the kill-ee.
And when it goes silent
When our voices drop
Did you stop, or was it me?
We see life as linear
because of time
but life is
different paths
to the same destination
moving in circles,
spirals, and dotted lines.
We are uniquely the same
led to believe in separation
from a need to survive
but now we must find out
what it means
to feel alive.
Where does the energy go?
It goes into the words.
I'm going to be an author,
a meditation master,
on the verge of breakdown
only on that beach.
He died in my arms that night
and I found out who I was.
and maybe it's that we can't be poets yet
till we know how it is we feel.
At the beach today,
a thought occurred to me.
What if we're in heaven now?
split in two by the sea.
If you have to be sad,
then maybe I am a poet.
It happened at 17
at 22
and 24 and 27
Sometimes I think my dog can tell,
but then I notice the dried ketchup on my knee.
Out of all the temples in this town
I like you the best.
Your lines of wear and missing tiles,
decaying as you rest
Yet seeing still how your beauty shows
reveals the hidden test
To love myself for all I am
emotions lay undressed.
I'm a cup full of tears
but that doesn't make me weak
for to feel deeply
yet stand tall
takes bravery
of a different kind.
I had a dream that your house was burning down
and your mother had gone
and your brother and your father
You were sitting there as the stones fell down from your castle
and I knew
I still had love
for your crumbling empire.
It might sound weird and uncomfortable
but the smell of airport bathrooms reminds me of you.
There's something fresh and clean about them
like the first cologne you buy when you think you've hit puberty, but you haven't actually.
Or the cologne you get when you don't really care about cologne, but you think it's something you're supposed to do
to show that you are consistent and well-bred
But maybe in your case it was to show that you were so cool you didn't need fancy smelling sticks
The same way you were cool enough to pick me up and kiss me in the club
and I was young enough to let it happen and naive enough to come to your apartment
but you weren't really cool at all, and neither are bathrooms
but that's why I like you, because you could smell like a clean toilet and smile with every single one of your teeth and dance with your elbows tucked in
and it was refreshing, to me at least.
There is a blessing in suffering,
I've been told once before.
You must see the pain your mind causes
in order to earnestly implore
for an escape from the thinking
we are told we can't avoid,
but resting in our breath we see
there is a silence to enjoy.
Am I happy now?
I often ask,
feeling a tightness in my chest.
Well, I'm happy sometimes,
and then the rest
Well, it all lies in my chest.
black women push white babies in strollers
she says hello, does she even know her?
the only hello you'll ever hear
among strangers that are always near
and as you sit and eat
Japanese next to an old celebrity
you dream of being blind
to finally meet
the noises and smells of the city
and feel more alive, maybe