Genesis "There is never enough time for two" she says as she uncorks a dusty merlot. Her painted fingernails chime on a glass, as the wine gets tipsy in its whirlpool. "I will never have time for proof" she says, her eyes taunt me from her fecundated cage. She fingers the stem of her glass. Her lips purse to fight off her rage. We sit amidst bible clippings and vogue photographs this kitchen table a nest, where collage is a higher art form and I struggle with this test of her love Her television distracts me with strangers, and lust, and promise I sweat to the reruns on Nick at Nite as my shirt sleeves fall from my wrists. I pick up a page from Genesis and paste it to the wall, she searches to taste her time. Pictures scatter at my unbalance and all I can say is "time is innocent."	Caesar In her mind she is Caesar Flooding rome with puppy dogs. In her eyes you can see your reflection Wavering slightly as the tears sit Patient for their descent. But she wants to crash. Desparate for beauty and control She plunges herself down, Head first and burning, A comet, An agent of her own destruction. She beseeches God to bless her soul, But her body interferes, and on impact rebounds, Salvaged by an unfamiliar being. A burning star. In her mind she is caesar. In her mind she is Joan of Arc. In her mind she has puppy dogs to give, And can taste the freshness of beauty. Tied to the comet of her life, She is addicted to everything that starts.
I Want (Ocean Beach) I have traveled far to find you. Shore to shore, the night is crestfallen And my feet have frozen through. You kiss my tongue, soft, And I taste your saline evening breath. My Shore. I am empty, and I have come to you, But as the tide I must soon return. The sand bunches between my somnolent toes, And traps me, As I meet your outstretched hand. You deafen me, and my screams are swallowed. Poised lips wait to hear My hollow cries of pleasure, That have vanished in your deluge. You blind me with your mist, And I walk until I can no longer Distinguish myself from you. Your crests become my home. You melt my wretched existence. You frighten me, but I am drawn to you. My face marred by the life inside you. You hurt me, you push me, you rip at my core. You drown me. But my sorrows go easily with you. Because I am too small for you. I am too weak to hold you and call you mine. I am too much a girl who is torn Into what I want.	An Autumn Poem These once were lies in passing looking for a hand but now the daggers are pointed and my pencil is dull I am numb to the passing time my purpose flustered in this pit of my soul. The beauty of my mind is like autumn's falling corpse. Dried up and wind-blown to the edge of reason where death becomes ideal and repetitive. I am a woman of will. And i am made from this moment where my hand waits for this autumn to spill out in sickness on the frozen, patterned ground I can feel the wind chilling solid branches and my hopes begin to rise as i feel the movement where hopes are no longer natural and so they begin to fall.
Twin Towers Every morning I get up and watch the war on twelve inches of glowing screen, I know it's not the size that matters. Every morning time becomes revenge and distance becomes recovery As I eavesdrop on your heart beneath the rubble. The pick-up-sticks are lain to delicately and my bones are lain precisely too small, so that every morning I wake up and trace your skyline I listen to your breath beside me Pre rush-hour, lying in wait. Together we are fraternal humanity. We are guilded with patriotism, jeweled by millions of ignorant strangers. until we are forced to lie in honesty, in fool's gold, without buildings, without bridges without lips, tongues or soul.	I had a thing to say but I'll fit it to some better tune. A drag of my lung to color my sexless ideals and darken the pink of my morality. I had a thought at some time better fitting to somewhere else, that tried to control my length with an algorithm that bleeding sores reject. I had a being once But I won't keep it now.