coming up for air

Feet rubbing on your sheets,
         back and forth,
         back and forth. 
             Windshield wipers,
will you take it all away? 
     That look of absolute admiration on my face,
     like the blonde girl in the movie. 
                    I can’t remember which one,
     but her eyes light up and she can’t stop smiling. 
You have a beautiful smile.
     And I’m rolling around on what feels like miles of mattress,
                                            but you’re always right there. 
Your warmth wraps around me like a quilt,
until I can’t tell where the heat is coming from. 
I’m stretching from the headboard down to your alarm clock,
             curled in a ball,
             our spines barely touching. 
You wrap around me like a spiral notebook. 
         It crinkles on the edges, but it’s still good paper. 
                      And my pen traces the words
                              already written down in a million colors,
                      never failing to stray on the end of the y’s. 
And we’re running out of the door, tugging your friends along. 
Separated by the seat,
          staring straight ahead,
                 I can see your expression without looking in the mirror. 
And I see myself glued to you,
       and know
                        that’s not how it has to be. 
But there’s something elastic about your arms,
             like bubblegum drawing back the sole of your shoe.
Somehow, you stick to me like the faint trace of your aftershave on my pillow.

surrender

Part I.
Tonguing down,
       tied together,
              tangled mass, moving towards temptation. 
      We know not what we do, yet we proceed. 
Teeth tear on my lips,
      tickle my neck,
             tease my composure. 
            And we made this, and it was good. 
Your hands hold my hollow body,
        proving your power in the crescent of my lower back,
             drawing me further into your unrelenting grasp. 
So we question what we know. 
Something seems good,
            after the sweat scorches our passions and we place ourselves sweetly
                 side
                      by
                        side. 
This thing pervades when all else fades,
       enraptured in your eyes,
      ever entranced by their similarity. 
Your lips,
         more lovely parted in a private joke
                 perusing parts of me left uncovered,
                 lead me into a longing,
leaving me lost without your smile. 
So say I’m childish and naive,
    but know that
I have known man before, and now feel something more substantial than just your body. 

Part II.
I see the lines of your arms advancing,
         awkwardly
         asking me to retreat. 
    I will not be led away to your bedroom. 
I see the curve of your cheek,
                                      your neck,
         pulling me from conversation. 
    I will not lose interest. 
I see your waist
         waiting for the warmth my arms will provide. 
         I cannot deny this wish. 
But something more powerful than pleasure prevails,
because it is in this attraction that I am aware of more. 

Part III.
In my mind lust and longing follow from liking and fascination.  

tales of gravity

I’m going to throw caution to the wind!  Oh sweet warning, whisper your way out of the window through the branches of the tree outside.  The old oak reaching upwards.  Do you see what it’s stretching for?  Do you see what I’m stretching for?  Like the sunflower leans to the sun, I lean into the light falling from your eyes.  I bask in your rays, gilded with golden glow from head to toe, motionless and Roman.

Oh wind!  Blow a little harder!  I can’t have the consequences lying around for evaluation.  It’s far more important that they stay locked up like a little black book.  Take them to the ends of the earth.  Take them to the desert and let the sand erode away the foreboding ink; let the sun bleach the past.

Oh but you are the sun!  And you render me fresh every day, white and clean as a new piece of paper.  Where are your scribbled notes?  Don’t take them away.  I love the cursive on my t-shirt.  I love the patches on my knees.  Let us keep going.  Forget about shining.  Darken us, deepen us, but forget about us fading away.

We are not ink.
We are flesh.
You are the sun, patron of musicians and poets.
And I am Sirius, scorching brighter, but father.
Shining together, one and two in a world of giants.
And will we collide?

telltale signs of a broken heart attack

Like a habit I leaned
    but quickly learned
Not to question.
the rain as it fell
and the unanswered ring
   made me strongly curious,
          curiously strong,
                like an Altoid inspired call
And the encryption fools no longer,
       even without footnotes.
Have I lingered too long,
Or just enough for you to wonder?
I know my own mind,
  and it only needs Mozart mentioned
       before it is reeling like a square dance…Imagining any dance at all.
We are past that now,
speaking of literary philosophy,
boring the pillows around us to the floor
Finding amusement
   in the movement
of the mouth
Open and Shut
   like a swinging door
   asking: “can you come out to play?”
And I wonder
Do you mention me?
       And mean it,
Our story is a good one,
But is it merely fiction?
What would we tell our kids?
       the ones we’ll never have.
Those lines will be struck from the final draft.
    What has been already?
I overexplain
    overanalyze
      overindulge
        overimagine
Fool myself into missing you,
       read those words
      and want to hear them,
      to feel if they are true...
Because my mind says they are
But this is a heart over head situation.
        This is a stick-up.
        Please remove your heart from your chest and put it on the table.
Do you trust me to take it?
I want to be the protagonist of your story.
    I want every chapter.
          I want to tell you my nightmares.
And that’s how I know.

derivative

Open eyes and open hearts
Like a bullet through the barrel,
We soar at each other,
Knowingly trespassing where Eden’s apple sits.
Valley of solitude,
Awoken by a single electrical current
Running up and down the channels,
Searching for the right station.
Everything in brilliant, lucid transparency.
Moments freeze as the time continuum rusts from the heat
Purity removed and restored,
Leaving lessons of irreparable emotion;
Yet with the moment comes the knowledge.
He knows you knew,
And you know no more.

“Physical pleasure is a sensual experience no different from pure seeing or the pure sensation with which a fine fruit fills the tongue; it is a great unending experience, which is given us, a knowing of the world, the fullness and the glory of all knowing.” – Rainer Maria Rilke

sheet metal

Voices scream over the music.
Not art,
but hate.
These images dance like witches around a potion.
Circling
    circling.
       Circling,
Fronts and backs exposed in a photographic orgy.
       Still the voices scream,
       unintelligible, unintelligent things.
Leader of the line,
I cannot resort to following,
      but I don’t want to be the one left behind.
My straightforward sentences
No longer answer my circular questions.
         Between a cornerstone and this cold wall,
Ponder what you conjure,
As the truth rises like foam.