Normal 0 false false false EN-US X-NONE X-NONE I stood framed in your doorway, arms like Samson side-to-side brace...

We are synchronicity Pattern emerged from chaos As the winter robes the ground In crystal lace and ivory furs You are serendipity The grinning bias of circumstance When nocturnal pens joined our Horizons I did not yet recognize my muse I am blessed Which is what Haitians say When their hearts glow brilliant with hope And their minds throb thickly with doubt I am grateful Which is what the Japanese say When atonement is less than it seems possible to ask And more than it see...

I’m told hearing is the vibration of tiny hairs tiny fragile hairs swimming in yellow fluid twitching and clenching to the beat of life's roar like the wasted boxer with lifeless eyes a handful of hits for the knock-out and every fall is a high-pitched tone the last shriek of a dying nerve I remember the stomach-twisting boil the first hair of innocence tearing away the pounding of lonely adolescent hearts two bodies ruined together, forever waves crashing together, dissipati...

blood or tears, darling; anything but stillness steal not thy pain, shield not thy weakness: I would adorn thy perfection like jewels in a crown; but think me not fragile relegated to your gilt boxes for as thou art wounded I would be thy bandage as thy muscles weaken I would be thy repast do not think me too proud to be thy pillow; too weak to be thy shield and were I either do not think I would not rather be broken than yearn alone for you.

There are so many things I can't tell her. It's ironic, because I can tell her anything . Just not everything . You see, she is scared to death of love. This is not an interpretation, she has told me. But that's all right, I told her. Slow is good. Maybe better. The upshot is that all relational issues are dealt with over long periods of time, one at a time. And so they accumulate: I need her to communicate more. I need her to stop attacking the personal preferences that I'm ins...

When mascara runs from your cheeks like mud from filthy streets and your hair holds its shape like a plastic mold when your knees buckle beneath the weight of integrity and prone you wait unfeeling, unthinking when your eyes darken distorted by pain and grief sets your tongue aflame Trust me to see your beauty

damp hair, shower soaked blonde roots barely showing the smell driving me wild your precious satin lips like virgin veins of gold desire holding me still I still imagine, sometimes when love disturbs my peace that you still belong to me

A heart-shaped love was what I wanted a love to wear like a bullet-proof vest What would I give for you? Anything. What would I give up for you? Anything--except my heart. Steal away my piano-- if you love me what else matters? Hide away my religion-- I need nothing else but you. But the heart is an organ throbbing with delicate need and demands of its own. Your love was too small and the air and blood ran dry until my breath caught short and my heart siezed up. These day...

breathe me in like morning mist choke on the ether of my memory feel my breath on the hairs of your neck spin 'round to catch my ghost fleeing like a lodestone holding your heart I call in the voice of dead passion for my pain I would never release you for my love would imprison you always reduce the dream to tragedy feed us both the poison pose our bodies robbed of vigor skin as pale as spectres for the photo no--I let you go already you have strayed far out of range I gu...

I am always one step ahead. At five I dreamed of ten, PG movies, better toys tall enough to see over counters and finally too old for tears. At twelve I dreamed of seventeen cars and parties and women wisdom equal to my decisions and finally too old for tears. At twenty I dream of thirty success and a child of my own a family and home to die for and finally too old for tears. But my dreams suffer from false adversing. I am still the same child crying as science-set aci...

I remember being homeless how my spirit ached for peace I remember wanting, needing passion dimmed by darker hungers than I'd ever seek to fill. I remember shadowed corridors the kind that crawls with paramours-- the ones I thought I'd buried I feigned freedom as I carried rusted needles filled with freedom bottles brimmed with thick release For demons are like loves: they never die.

Karen aka Dharmagrl, Though I don't do much posting, I read your articles regularly. Thanks for your contributions. I wrote this poem in your honor (also posted on a similar thread by foreverserenity). ~The Hazel Target From one who knows birthdays are not events but excuses, brief exclamation points in life's chaotic prose: may your reflection be gentle may your lover be close may your indulgence be harmless may the dreams that spur you onward be placed within your reac...

How beautiful is brevity the second form of rarity like ripples sway down glossy hair in motion is its strength. No man on death will gladly dwell but by its fear does love compel how sad if sunset's crimson flare like life were cursed with length.

To my bride: this last day is lethal we make our vows now while magic bows beneath the weight of worlds combining. To my wife: this echoed oath rings truthful still; as the saints are saved and baptized, so I swear and declare for all to know that I love and will always love.

Every so often I shed my shades, lift my lids to the blinding lights-- for of all the ways that my back has been stabbed, hope was the strangest knife.