It Isn't a House.

I don't know why I wonder  

I do want to know

Is there something to be done when 

you stand there and you see the house you've built

in rubbles? 

Do I just pick up the pieces? 

Do I try to tape the edges together 

or do I just leave.

Quietly

Or do I stay till the rest of it 

falls on me... and I too become a piece 

of another piece of another piece

or do I leave before this happens again and again

Love is mysterious, sure

it is. It doesn't mean what it means

it's like a puzzled puzzle and like a story 

with missing words and a sometimes it's just a word with 

two vowels and nothing else

Love is sometimes just 

and sometimes not and sometimes pain 

and sometimes I have none

I don't know why I wonder but I do want to know

How is it that things just break 

even when they're sitting 

Sitting in some corner 

so untouched- why does it fucking break? 

Why do I have to pick up the pieces of this phantom

faceless, and cruel thing!? 

Do I just leave them there? Do I just let the dust settle 

and from the rain I see what's really left? 

What is love? Why does it have to dictate some sort of story? 

Love is Mystery. But it understands that existing takes more than 

two happy people... If I don't know what love is, I am sure I know 

what love isn't: It isn't a house. 

I Feel, I Fell, I Come To You.

I long
Like I long to hold you
I'll take the rope off your neck and I'd swim in it
I, I, I!

It hurts to see you
See you go
all purple with little flame
All blue, was the sky screaming in me
Hello!? I'll hang from those ropes. I live
by the swamp and I too
drink that water

I believe in tales when I feel them around me
I feel it around me
I feel. I, I, I,
Fell.

It's almost like the eyes on me. Take me
Hide me. Make me scream and
with little ecstasy, I come to you
You come to me

I long and feel
Like a snake in me
Its true; it is true
I fell.

It is your retina, the roundness of your eyes
It is the water in your eyes
The fullness of your lips
The emptiness inside you that lingers
there, I linger there.

I feel, I fell, I come to you.

Reasons To Live

When there are reasons to live

I know you will bring me the paper

And read it to me

I am six or four or maybe two feet below 

the gravel that you walk on…

You run so fast, so damned fast

But I don’t feel a thing

More reasons 

More and more lies

When there are reasons to live

I know you will again remind me

That these dark windows are

Really the eyes on me

Really the eyes that comfort me

I am six or four or maybe two scared to live

I am not six years old but I feel like a lost bug

Waiting for spanking… don’t fool yourself.

Don’t pretend to be my messenger when

Those days are gone… they choke me

They suffocate me

They take the life out of me

They are criminals

Dark clothed

And dark folding chairs in my consciousness

If you sit on them you will fall

Place the chair right below me

Below

Me

Be

Low

Me.

I Land In You

I am sitting here

Don’t want sit for long

But I do want to become like that naked tree

Wrestling within other sounds of nature

I don’t want to become that dark substance that

Suffocates the speech of silence-ness

(Words begin to make sense mainly

Because there is nothing but silence)

When do I become yours?

When can I walk into your mouth and

Climb down your throat and fall

Fall beyond reach

And get to a slippery part of you?

I die, I die because it’s like music

Music when you say nothing

But just remember me

Because when you drink that coffee

I’ll then get burned

So if you care, take care of me

I can take care of you

I land in you

Cushioned with your love

I land in you because your silence lulls me

And I feel like I have to go through

The better part of me to be with you

But I’m inside and sometimes I feel

Cold and yes sometimes I feel like I am yours

And sometimes I disappear

And that’s because I have become waste

Food that passes through you and I am

As you are here

Going through the changes meant for me

And then I am that tree

That tree that’s sitting…

I am sitting here.

Just Another Day

Oh well. She asked me to write her a poem
Maybe some say that's ... I don't know
I just find it rather sweet
Like when birds chirp in the morning
(In the country where there are no fumes
from unkept car engines)
and like brief sounds of leaves swinging in the air

She is an eternal birthday girl, oh yes she is!
Her with soft short hair
Her twenty one candles
flaring, firing the sky

At night when she sleeps
she wishes on lightness
she reaches her hands to the sky and
pleads: "Oh please, let there be sun in the sky for me
and breeze in my hair"
-She wants her hair to move her like water moves

So what she is too young to understand that
today is just another day... when you've passed the mark
today is another day
So what she gets her wish a few weeks late
Today is just another my love...
Just another day.

Whoever Said A Rock Can Sing?

When in doubt take a tagger and shoot it straight into its mouth 

And make music with the words that come from that

I have written stories that have stirred even a hard rock man 

into tears... like a river, he weeps and I 

sing, I sing because I hear the wind 

and it lulls me in- 

My throat is deep and shallow too

my words are empty crosses with 

stick like figures, tears

like rain water fill 

the buckets, filled like mother's breast

Milk from heaven 

My mouth is yet in pain- 

Wisdom is in yesterday's reports 

and he cries, cries in vain

in vain he cries

Do close up shop

Do pull the curtains down

The show is over

Whoever said a rock can sing

Whoever said that? 

Here It Is:

I feel like

writing a letter to my soul today

I would start with Dear

and end with I wish you were here

I would ask "where are you

Friend?"

When are you coming to me 

like I come to you... You betrayed me

You took my lollipop and now I feel

so sad...  don't you know when my mouth 

is busy I have no time to talk or even 

complain

Where is the nearest stop sign?

the big red love affair

has to begin

and not when the loud noises

of New York City on a Saturday 

morning- goddammit! 

I do open my eyes

I am still sleeping

but do you believe me?

I see you change like the arms of my clock 

you come around and 'round

me when? 

Are you waiting for me, huh

someplace else for me? 

I have written you once before 

or maybe thrice

and you still forget 

that I am no longer

a child... I am.

I am, I am, I am! 

When, did you say you were coming!? 

Right when I thought you'd become one with me

you show withering signs and I have no hope

I really do end this letter with

"Yours Truly" 

But what does that mean exactly? 

I've often wondered if they reach you too

Friend. 

If there is a ring of truth in my words too

Friend.

just to feel like you understand me and not

you playing "pretend"

Friend.

So I add the ps

and say come what may

you sit silently 

riding on my tired shoulders or inside me somewhere

waiting for another letter

And here it is: