Incarcerated desires,
worth kissing,
immaculately
Mary's darkened eyes
wrapped lassos of heat
statues tell the truth,
break the broth,
as your lust-ful eyes
spy her soft hands.....
Its best to be like me
and never leave the circle.
Red little cuts with virgin oil,
never create the hurdles.
I can't be shut down
when I never agreed
to the on switch
in the first place.
I don't like humanity.
I don't like being touched.
I wish I could be all alone
I'll walk the entire
way back home.
fingers bleed with pain
as words spurt out on paper
mind in overload
Just your gaze isn’t enough
For me, it requires a smile
One through heart, I need it.
You thought I made it tough
In your eyes, was it style?
Difficult to brace? I need it.
Likewise my path is rough
I know, care to hear for a while
Your time for me, I need it.
The wind today comes from the east
I long to fly towards it and be at ease
On this earth I stand over skeletons once with dreams
O peace finds her own solace
I just lay near her hiss kept dry by breeze
My worry interlace and I long once again
I need you to need me, and
I need you to not need me,
Because I love you, and
I cannot be without you.
By your words you wounded my soul
Creating a hole that was long ago whole
There is no solution, no redemption
Ignoring temptation, I’ll choose separation
I want to take my distance
Despite my heart’s hard resistance
To be freed of this deed, it’s a need
You’re a weed I have to get rid of to succeed
But if you come back and talk to me
I fear I won’t have the strength to flee
I’ll beg you to never insist
‘Cause I’ll never be able to resist
Now that I’m sixty years old,
I need two things
To survive another day,
My Bible and some black coffee,
Would I add some cognac?
Writing is not that important,
I have to walk every day,
To treat my diabetes,
Now that I’m sixty years old,
I like to smell the roses, mauve ones,
Thinking of my dear sisters,
I need two things,
My Bible and some black coffee.
Maintenant, que j’ai soixante ans,
J’ai besoin de deux choses
Pour survivre un autre jour,
Ma Bible et du café noir,
Ajouterais je du cognac ?
Écrire n’est pas si important,
Je dois marcher chaque jour,
Pour soigner mon diabète,
Maintenant que j’ai soixante ans,
J’aime sentir les roses, mauves,
Penser à mes chères sœurs,
J’ai besoin de deux choses,
Ma Bible et du café noir.
things needed in life
do we need them or want them
there's a difference
birds chirp at the sky asking to quench their thirst
I sit on a rock
in the middle
of a raging stream,
Peaceful,
unafraid ,
nor desiring more.
From afar I hear a call
"Are you alright?
Keep still help is on its way"
Help!
Do I need help?
Why are they calling me?
They don’t even ask if I need help.
They just rush to my side and pull me in.
I don’t want to leave my serenity
They just drag me into the sea.
I did not, in any sense, desire a fight with my eye
The eye that keeps greedily taking glances,
Seeking to convince my soul to allow
Beauty,
fleeting pleasure,
and the glory of youth.
For indeed, youth is glory:
A flower that blossoms for a season.
For there lie a myriad forms of fruit,
And every fruit begins at a seed.
A seed suffers shame in many ways;
At times, a bird may take it as a snack.
A choice, in a way, must be made at the level of the seed:
Either be consumed, or be sown.
Both paths satisfy an innate desire.
A youth may take it as a snack;
An elder may sow it and allow it to rot for formation.
One fulfills a fleeting pleasure;
The other postpones urgent gratification.
In every path, some desire is embraced.
Yet at the sunset,
One is further advanced in multiplication,
While another adores only flashbacks.
In all, a need is met
i'm gagging
cursing the traffic lights
catastrophic sweat
i need that sensation when i pull into a decadent parking space
and walk from the car to the ticket machine
three hours early and stuffing my face back in the car park with watery meat juices
stationing the confectionary in the right cavity
memories of hot dogs and dr. robert greenberg
superb breakfasts and sparkling water
the lack of legroom in the upper circle
ushers and their laser beams into the back of heads like Predator
as they take their bows and the curtain falls and the applause ends
i yell to my son, "get to the chopper!"
The laughter quivers
more than tiny words allow
while the kettle sings
I warm two cups for fresh tea—
pot clad in woolen cosy.
Need raps the door once
I leave my shoes by the door
silence enfolds hands—
my chair faces the landing
waiting till the dusk can speak.
Night keeps its starlight
behind dim, dark, unlit clouds—
until the mist lifts
and drapes open wide to show
want, waiting, help, are outside.
i feel a deep fear within me,
logical yet irrational
stuck between can and cannot
limited by dimensional thought
theorizing the distance from if to is
every moment measured
by a metric of failure and success
lost in a reality that has not yet
or may not arrive
these are the sweetest sweaters I ever found in the trash
we all ran over to see them and my cousin rooster Rash
Rooster was always finding the very best stuff in weird places
I will buy one from you, said our auntie Goosie McGraces
Rash laughed at her silliness and said choose one, Mom
she chose one with reindeer; it was truly the bomb.
Uncle Pete snagged his own sweater, a lovely knit.
I don’t need one said my cousin Mighty Mitt
You all need one, Rash told his sister, come over.
He had a darling one with dogs that looked like Rover.
You can have one too, he told me, gesturing me in.
I felt guilty taking the last one in the bin.
But what about you? I asked my cousin Rash.
No worries, he said, I have a bit of cash.
I will go to the thrift store and outfit me too.
He came back wearing a sweater with a rainbow hue.
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