the air you breathe...

he fooled me
when he played the rugged
and congested chords

i had never heard such beauty
conflicted
and concealed behind the thick strings

that had to surpass his stoned mind
and thick fingers

he made that bass
dance the way my mind
thinks
when cloudy
and clear at the same time..

fucking brilliant-
i say to him

how recited- he says back..
that was from the album i just downloaded...

ugh,
how boys play with my feelings

time and time again....

the list...

i won't pretend that i'm the best lover

i don't think i've ever justified that sort of excuse to stop growing.
i reminded myself and her tonight
that i've promptly forgotten everyone before her.

i don't recall any other skin
or taste
or love
other than hers,
here
right now.

she seems oddly placated by this startling truth of mine-
but she somehow doesn't seem to buy it.

how, of all the truth's i've confessed, true this is.
it's trumps any memory
or imagined ego.

i recall that i've had many experiences
but they did nothing but prepare me for her-
her storm
and
her fury...

get up now...

so what if i only come back to you with drink on my tongue
and wayward sighs, coughs and hiccups.

even if the stars have made us blind
we are so clearly unblind in this love

we trace, draw and dictate what and who did us wrong in the past
and we compare the scars of those lessons learned
and wake up no different to anyone.

today you are still stumbling and grappling with your past
and everything is weighing on you and your sense of gravity.

the winter snow is melting around us
and the water's are less than silver pools

and you are trudging through to the other side

miles away from where you started.
with a new love
and new perspective on life
with hopes dashed and let go on the wayside.

she represents the ugly side of love
and i keep telling you to quit looking for the same outcome that you would provide-

in her letting go
she is not graceful nor
delicate in her dance
you must learn this lesson with a stilted wedge as your guide

i witness this part of your life
and even in my lonlliest moments
i could never justify this sort of disregard.

you make up
i make up
for the loss
of something we gave up on years ago

yet still
we hold on to some sort of fairy tale ending
that never happens in these sort of corners.

i wake up each day to a new story
and try not to become jaded in a experience i'm only witnessing vicariously-
i never asked for this
and you never asked for this

and i tell my story and command that it will be different
and that little comfrey bird tells me-
never
say
never

that i will or would put myself in the exact same place.

i won't pretend for a minute that i wouldn't give in easily to this same place
with you.

i'd be your fool
i would be your mat
and place to rest
devoid of my own feelings
oblivious of your greed

out of my love
out of love
for you

i'd be your fool my lover
a hundred times through

and in the words that ring off your tongue i'd also ask

could you be loved....

and answer in the same breath-

yes!

yes.

yes.....

yup..

The truth is rarely pure and never simple- Oscar Wilde

brothers and men....

in a new york minute
everything can change
and everything can get a little strange-
he says..
and boy have i witnessed that upon the vows that have afforded you new wives
and children, consequently.

my spelling errors to your love errors.
we stand face to face
you, republican, me liberal

facing the same fate
despite misguided steps along the way.

brother(s),
your passage has been littered with addiction
mine, doubt.
but in the end we fight the same fight.

i have shared a mother with you,
emergency and guilt ridden
as the wolf has been waiting at the door.

we shared a dad who was not always a father
mostly to you
and less to me.

time and time again we have been reminded of the reality that
one day our loved ones are here
and the next day they are gone
but somehow
we have missed-
missed the mark
of connection
without drink
or drug
or misunderstanding

but today we are reminded and forced to look at the
one
who succumbed-
who gave into
the empty deliveries
of false gods and wives and lovers.

he who has been called out,
by death and those still with us
to change his ways..

i wonder what you will do with this, brother,
what will you do with this calling
that is so obviously yours..

i stand, silent in my corner of psuedo support, and i wonder if you, the wonderous boy, will come out alive

and think, in anger,
what a silly pile you would be if you had lived in my boots...

Dear Mama's..

there is light
in the darkness
despite the cliche- ness of the fact.

i spoke
and am hopefully understood.

she says, " that forgiveness means giving up all hope for a better past" (lily tomlin)
my god how ricocheted our past is.

bullet wounds
scars
and ugly marks
we've left

out of love.

oh how i've never loved another like you
you were what i lost
and what i found
out of desperado
and incognito

i didn't know who you loved
and you didn't know how not to love
what you seemingly possessed-

how wrong we were,
mother,
our love,
misguided and way ward

did we even have a chance to truely love?

mother i will find you
as the book says, "if you seek you will find"...
but really
in peripheral
and in love
i have looked
for so long!
and i have not found you.

i imagine you to be something that is not familiar
a face, dark but light just the same
a tongue, different and the same alike.
a loving,
more fierce and unforgiving woman.

how could i search for you
or want you
when i have someone in your place?

the guilt i feel over this
is huge
but still i wonder
what Mother
looks like me?
what Mother fed me?

what Mother dreams of me every night just the same as the one that chose me?

I will feel accounted for upon my death,
for there will be two souls that
search for me
in order to complete themselves.

haunted and un-haunted i will be
until that day....

Comfrey...

light and swaying-
the trumpet
i long to close to my lips upon,
plays
notes i may never know---
spit, running from the brass of it's slender back
down to the meaningful place that it plays.

our meeting was a fleeting image
you and your coy self
and me,
feeling i could conquer you
effortlessly.

how wrong i was
trying to be more than i was to you
physcially and mentally.

i recall a day when you brought me new perspective-
i come back
to that
and think your lesson
is still pertinent.
Woman,
whose name i will not speak.

you get more than enough recognition
and praise
and love
for who you are-

needless to say
i realize how my approach to you was out of learning-
a need to connect.

i saw what could be and i wanted to emulate that.
only my connectedness with another made it messy and
not seemingly platonic.
you were confused-
i was hurt
and rejected.

your dismissiveness seemed careless
my eagerness seemed aggressive-



it did not work
and i will work again to make it matter to you this time...