where neither belongs,
both must learn evolution
and let the home die.

the candles burn to wicks, and still you write.
in search of peace, the pen won't stop to think
of time and place. like setting matters! the ink
will quell your thoughts, so pack the words in tight
from page to page. as dense as smoke, which winds
along your lips: an acrid taste, the safest
smell you know. debate which words are clearest,
and mark the paths you hope the reader finds.
the drive is blank without the hours you waste
in finding precision: meant to cause emotion,
each moment packed with angst. the final word
will come too fast; the bile rises, a taste
reviewed with raised eyebrows. restless, in motion
you lose your place, your pace, the silenced world.

in time, each child will die, and open hands
to chances yet to come. each sheds his skin
and finds new shells, in layers bent of tin
and coal and wax. in time each body stands
the tests of wind and rain, the depth of pain
that can be felt by pulsing blood. the gore
of life that means we breathe, the writhing core
that means we stay; each not-still child to gain
his own idea of old. the rest is right
and wrong, and true and false, and left from fright
to seek his god where god cannot be found.
the new adult seeks sky and sea and ground
that he might learn to crawl again, and see
through ancient eyes that cry and can't be free.

i crawled up into your arms
and as the minutes pass
and your heartbeat rustles comforting
and the opals of your eyes shine
i knew it was right
that i should find you this early
and hold you this late.

and if you can't listen, you can't ask questions.
the handwriting must round itself out, the mentality
squeeze into smaller lines and smaller sizes.
the ocean is larger than expected, lines of travel
stretched thin over plate tectonics.
she watches her mirrorself curl up into ringlets,
fingers through hair, scent on the cusp of the wrist.
and if her veins should run a little farther for your
presence, who can blame her? for what you are.
you are weeping, curled in the corner of the room.
it is dark and there are no answers.
so the question stays unanswered, the end of it
dribbling off into the gutter, smelling of sex.

2:06 AM
you are only as good as your dreams are.
and i, i will steal away your dreaming--
as thieves are silent, so will i be soft.
you will pace, in the darkness, in the night;
you will drink in the calm, orange morning sun.
the theft of your youth will go unnoticed.

4:57 PM
your collar is not starched, your tie is loose.
the stapler is empty, and you are tired.
she hands you the package, brushes your hand,
leans in to tell you something trivial.
her heels click away, a monotony
of sweet smell, soft skin, and withered daydreams.

11:13 AM
and when you are exhumed, what will you be?
old coffee dregs, porcelain, yellow stains
on the teeth that they will date with carbon.
they'll shake their heads at your poor dental health.
you dig colgate out of your bottom drawer,
brush in the office kitchen-- just in case.

6:48 AM
i call you, up, up, out of the warm darkness.
you drugged yourself last night to fall asleep.
you're regretting it now, searching for cups,
orange juice, toast eaten standing over the sink,
vitamins caffeine fish oil decongestant pop pop pop.
the car is out of gas, will you have time?

7:23 PM
feet up, tv on, mouth and belly full,
the blinds are closed against the light and noise.
fill your lungs with tar, to turn off your brain.
conflict, laugh track, and a resolution.
your cup and your wife's womb are empty,
waiting, stagnant, like your hands and your heart.

in peace, we were what some might envy-- in lust,
we were just what we could be. walking slowly
late at night, you might have never known.
i leave the dishes dirty, i let the dust
pile itself along the ridges. just once,
i cried. and then i left, against your grain,
and built my dream: a scene without a frame.
so days turn into weeks, and weeks to months.
so i exist just in my mind, and lose
my sense of self. the greater purpose found--
in silence, grace. i help, and sometimes guide,
my thoughts to safer ground; they leave, come loose,
and cry for greener grass. they search the ground
for rain, and dart like birds who wish to hide.

in new chances,
the same old sins subside.
the lies repeat,
the curse of star-crossed kings.
she's royalty,
the lips, the tears she cried.
she is all shape,
straight legs, blonde mess of rings.
a silent night,
what's said that can't be heard.
the longest day,
yet weeks pass by with speed.
the color green,
grief that cannot be unlearned.
the warning shout,
volume for lack of need.