Monday, April 21, 2014

imperfect imperfection

as a writer
and a man
I seek
a true expression
of pain
and pleasure
that heals
when it hurts
to say words
never hurt
is to say
they never mean
anything at all
if you measure me
by the standards
of the day
I'm neither
a writer
nor a man
has ever been
only the right
in only
the right order
for me in
only the right words
in only the right order
passion is absent
I am absent
I am still more
broken places
and imperfections
even the needle
that stitches
my good intentions
on a scratched record
and skips
like a broken metaphor

Curtain Call

He was grateful
that she
buried her memory
in his
traumatic dates
Because he knew
she had played
every role
especially the villains
oh so well
her worst tantrums
played so well
on paper
on stage
on screen
it's clear now
she's really gone
he wonders
if she were
completely gone
from his
heart and mind
if it would be
the end
of the ink
in his pen

Thursday, April 17, 2014

Ruthlessly Yours

Let me land on your shoulder
or sit at your feet
fly on our wind
You are my heartbeat

Save me room
between the lines that you read
let the night last forever
heaven in my arms as you sleep

I'm fearless, shameless
mindfully frameless
our love is right
even if it's not painless

Even the ache is better
even the stormy weather
Nothing has to be perfect
Even your demons are worthy

Concerto for my consort
Paradise restore
rise with me peacefully
no envy or jealousy

I am devoted so helplessly
surrendering breathlessly
to this love
deliverer rescue me

our courtship eternally
evolving omnipotentally
I need you now here with me
mother of buddhas give birth to new universes with me

you are the chords of my heart strings
I've searched milleniums
for the eyes like a flash of lightning
of the lotus of a billion springs