Sunset Over Texas

There was no snow in April,

nor thunder in Febuary, 

but now the sky grows grey

and dark.

I tried to tell you that evening

when the day had waned to

thin orange stripes, contrasting

bright pink clouds, a sun half-sunken

below a somber horizon.

You would listen by and by,

a solemn nod, faint smile,

but your eyes were lightyears

away from whatever 

I was saying.

I wonder now if you will miss me,

when you find I’ve gone.

If only heaven and earth were not

so great a distance,

and there was only the

white porch swing

on a patio of this

too small house.

Down the Rabbit Hole

I can’t support what you love,
and you can’t support your
claims to love me.

It’s like falling
forever, falling asleep
while falling, and waking up
still set toward nadir,
place of darkness
I so often inhabit.

It’s such a long journey,
I thought you might
try to catch me, break my
descent–you didn’t.
You pushed me away.

I needed you to pull me
from the pit,
and, for a fleeting moment,
seemed you might, but then
your lover called you, you
forgot your vows, and
I  watched your face,
that I had seen
so many times above
my own,
shrink into nothingness,
and fade out of view.

How I longed for you to
love me,
and I loved you so much
more than
I could even love myself,
and you took my affections
and twisted it,
some monster.

I felt the dull knife break
between the columns
of my bleak spine,
painful separation,
yet somehow
somewhat expected.

And though my ego took a dive,
you should know, the betrayal never
hurt as bad as realizing that
the fantasies were better
than our reality ever was.

I wonder back to that
character who looked at
his family and wondered
at what point he would have
to forsake his family,
and look to himself for survival.

At what point
do I save myself?
At what point
do I grow?

Names for Names Sake

It was the way you said my name
like a whisper, a confession,
a need to reveal who I was,
chipping away at my identity through promise.

What power a name has, truly.
The ability to gain familiarity,
to speak in tongues more ancient,
ever-changing your meaning with tone.

I would go to bed, thinking your name,
and sometimes my mouth would move along, or my voice might catch the empty words, only darkness knew.

Sometimes I still say it to
feel the blood rush to my face,
the smile linger on my lips,
and the flow of electricity buzzing in my palms and in-between my fingers.

Flowery Bitters

Thorned bushes have your heart then?
When wiry brush scrapes your thigh,
and climbs until you cannot reach,
will you then think again on your position sailing from the sky?

There are a hundred blushing roses,
that’s true enough, but do you truly
adore the sour odor that comes
at every petal, seeping into coffins,
stagnant in your unwitting garden?

Are freesias too simplistic for you?
Such a careless breeze they sway,
underwhelming presence, or perhaps
you are afraid to leave the roses,
because you know their secrets…

I am simply a road-side daisy, watching life race by, entertaining thoughts of grandeur. Will I kiss the sky? Reliant
on the mercy of nature,or the kindness of man, but I am nurtured.

I thrive
despite all odds.

Tell me roses,
are you loved?

I Miss You

I do little things
like saute garlic and
deviate from recipe.
I try to be clever with
tomatoes and pepper,
and experiment around
pretending to be you.

I’m not adventurous,
but you are,
and I miss the way
you’d smile over
your shoulder at me
and your eyes
would become folded
into your cheeks.

I think ten days
apart from you is torture,
and pray that this experience
will only grow us stronger.

Letting Go of an Online Friend

I was dying for something deeper,
and one night in my pretend world
you saw me standing nervously,
and we stayed up two nights
in a row.

I was a fledgling and you
promised to teach me to be
better, and that you and I would
find a community together.

You needed freedom,
but my personality is selfish
and I enjoyed when you took the
time to be with only me.

I miss the song suggestions,
the vacant promises, when you
would try to flirt with me, and
I would hold it back.

It happened so suddenly that
I forgot to mark the time,
but I am so used to growing attached
and separating, that it hasn’t bothered me like this….

Once, I had a serious relationship
through screens and keyboards,
and finally lost touch forever, but
it didn’t hurt like this does.

I think I will always be the one
who is more serious about everything,
and you will play around
even though it’s not fulfilling.

Reckless Soliloquy

Intertwined with hope, we won
a chance to see the ripples
of our actions take place,
reverberations spinning
out a message so faint.
We nearly missed it.

She was who you really spoke to
when you said those
honeyed lines, longing hanging
on your breath,
and yet I was beguiled.

I would not be taken a second time,
not down the path of
ambiguity, tearing out my innards,
if you asked, to realize you’d
only wanted to be wanted.

The spider stirs from her small corner,
thinking only of herself, weaving
lies upon each other, but I implore you, wait.

As for the woman that lives in
dreams, doling out love
to love struck men, I am not her.
She is cunning, and beautiful,
and I am just me.

I obsess about the way I sound,
try to emulate some grandiose
notion, as if I have a clue what
I even mean.

I’m not really pretty, but I remind you
of something serious you once had,
and that scares me
because I can sense it too.

Real things mean that complications
will arise, and the spider loves
her chaos.
I’d approach with openness and honesty.

Exaltations of Muses

I will give my thanks:
to the deepest recess of the sea,
where no eye can fully know,
no man could venture there,
(easier flight to the moon.)

to the care-free sparrow,
whose shadow casts no real fear,
tawny feathers ruffle, timorous,
in the rowdy breeze.

to the microcosmic library,
universe resplendent,
and whose books I’d
fall for, leafing amourously.

to the long winded speeches,
encouragement, repremandation,
all in effort to draw me
into my revelation.

to the fool who made me laugh,
even when I wanted to be angry.
May his humor never sour, and
his smile never grey.