November 2011

In bed at 5 am

Now the wind and

Dogs bark.

One man pushing

Once abandoned

No shame

In the longing of skin.


and monkey’s howl
Replaced with Cat Stevens
Clank of spoon
Window closed
Heat on
I stare out the skylight
At the leaves and clouds both
Mingling with the absence of night.
Plan a day of walking,
what food will I eat.
What are these bloody love songs trying to say

What if I revealed my appetite

Stopped staring into the faces of lovers
Lacking empathy
Tired from
Wanting  you
To reach over and adjust
My dress strap.

Bloody heart
Bloody love
Bloody remembering
Bloody songs
Bloody notion
Of home.
What home
What you

Like art
By design
We need a new language
Not hybrid
That pushes thru the delinquency of time
I need a new time…
One that doesn’t push me to compulsive wandering
seeking refuge

Among dreams

And values the phantom longing for
A body to call home.
Too many years spent with desires
Creating rigid art forms of a self
Through words
I’m certain some cravings
Can be trusted
In the bodies of others.

The dog ate my miso and a loaf of bread
This evening
He didn’t apologize
Didn’t question the rightness of his actions
Or what belonged to him.
He doesn’t struggle with his own history
Or refrain from affection for fear of being
He drinks out of my mug when I go into the
Kitchen, leaves hair all over my sweaters, humps
The blanket when he’s in the mood.

We sleep with our valuables here
On the living room floor
takes on new meaning
in the world of family.
There is a bowing that happens
Within sentences
Always leaving
Learn not to turn the page.

Make oatmeal
Eat canned beans
stomach turns inside out
Forcing myself
I see old behavior as result
Situation as part of the equation
In choice…………….
Survive as optional
Not hereditary.