The Next Girl

will she have eyes like mine
will she hide under cover
or over come
darkness with delirium 
will her fingers ache to write
will her tongue speak words
that spark because you've
never heard them before
and leave you leaning in
yearning for more


will you break her over and over
leaving a cave where her heart once lived?


will her very being
make you into a poem
like a train on midnight rails
without speed limit for your
rushing heart
will you sleep beside her knowing
she is your place in this world


will the next girl be your last girl?

blur of 113 dogwood circle

I am
dreaming of things that I can see
but I am away for the moment
the seasons are changing
and changing me
even distance can't deny
but
I know how we will be in a room together
we can no longer return to our beginning
we have no more of that time
except memory
sliver spayed on our minds wall
the street sign, the breathable sky
growing older too young
as the current pulled us to where
we had to go
the empty spaces - the sweeter ones
the summers passed and have stolen from us
yet we keep returning to the happy blur
of 113 dogwood circle


 

Beautiful Ruin

queue the lights one more time
so we can all see the perfection
of all the raw edges we want to discard
the beautiful ruin
the flattened copper on the rail
that disappears without the presence
of those we love
kinder because we've been lost and left
from those leaving
we are memory
and night watchers
tree huggers
that never stop believing
the chrysalis that knows how to survive
how to die
like light in a forest, magic of  a firefly
splendorous lilac scented rain drifting in
open bedroom windows
moonlight on old books
the black and white old reels that stain our face
leaves us wishing we were Bogie's girl
but
we trust the darkness that creates the sphere
for a candle's light

Parking Space

libraries are full of red screaming words
that no one ever heard, so they were written
music has rooms to hide in, so I go there often
we've all got lots of people wanting
to be our brother or sister
while our own bloodline is depreciating
like a dark moon
and good boys aren't loved
they are overlooked
bars become temples
but the philosophers are only liars
dirty loud ones


some of us hide in crowds or in corners
becoming a character that no one knows
we just want beautiful sexy romance
the night seems to promise


we close our eyes
our face a salt lick


boys with beautiful eyes
never seem to see us
we are too wild, too free, untamable
we are happily parked in empty parking lots
where silence is welcome
where we drink rum and coke
in our vintage convertible Volkswagens

chained to comets

oh
all the floors we
have danced on
rolled on
fought on
dreamed on
loved on
leaving blood
sweat
tears of life on
but
we don't dance anymore

Tag

there was a tag on that rag top convertible that read
"back our boys in Vietnam"
back then  I was only a kid I didn't know what it meant
no not then

and daddy had already passed on to those shores
you hear about but you've never been
sometimes I still wish for the strength of his hands
to set me straight again

mama mourned and I think
he took the best of her
they buried her when they buried him
it was just seven years later

we ran wild in the summer sun
there was fire in the summer sky when it rained
lost in the what ifs and the cold blue moons
I was friends with the shadows that knew my name
but rain has never tasted that sweet again

home isn't home
they left seven standing on their own
borders were broken, secrets spilled over
glue of our family was gone
seven different paths, we all moved on

daddy's old green army blanket was a childhood fort
brother slept with it over him
now he sleeps next to mama
I take flowers for two when I go visit them

but there was a flag for a soldier
left in the hands of my mother
there's nothing left of the house he built
he sleeps in the mountains close to heaven
now all their pictures are fading
but when I look in my eyes I still see a ghost of them

Paperweight

all her hurts are wrapped in a blackbirds song
her sweetness squeezed like crumpled clothes
a second hand want, her cup empty
never was half full
she's a dissolving sugar water
every righteous thing she ever was burned away
a paperweight
midair leaves nothing
words of all her loved
gone scars explained  
music box died
breath is left
strength inside
sidestepping pain
postponing life that drips like
a numbing imaginary IV
called a pulse this song of a dance
she has a mind that don't quit
extensions in print
technicolor memory
once loves won't be returning 
they think she's a shadow but she's a
burning white light
they can't even see her
she's gathered every stone they ever threw
at her but she's not gathering hate
she's collecting stars 

 Keep doing what you love no matter what. Don't quit.