| he sat there very close breathing the same air I was feeling the same space I was I sat there very far breathing the same air he was feeling the same space he was while breaking into small pieces |
| I'm sorry With teeth clenched and palms sweating I step away wanting so badly what you have to offer, but I see there's a bitch line and I just lost my place. With teeth clenched and palms sweating you say you want to burn, and I know I need to love you. Wanting so badly what you have to offer, but I see there's a bitch line and I just lost my place. I can't hold your head up any longer. You say you want to burn and I know I need to love you that tell-tale blood drips from your nose and I can't hold your head up any longer. I can't see you like this. That tell-tale blood drips from your nose as I watch you inject your veins with the only love you know. I can't see you like this I cannot be your angel. As I watch you inject your veins with the only love you know I step away. I cannot be your angel, I'm sorry. |
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any time I look down I can see your face smiling up at me. you support me and hold me up when I am down. your brothers, the trees, shelter me I sit below them and water you with my tears or cheer you with my laughter when the sky cries on you you hold my feet in a cool embrace and when my life has gone I will join you. |
| Bernadette Bernadette's mother was easily vexed But today was not like any other. Provocation aplenty, positions complex Gave reason for worry to mothers. Her little girl taken by wagon to die The target of throngs hurling fruit. Rancid juice flowed beside tears down her face As angry men took up pursuit. The hooded man led her up guillotine steps His faceless form grimly serene. He placed her white neck in the worn, wooden groove Where her trembling form could be seen. By her mother who watched the foul deed from afar Eyes open, stricken with dread. With a sickening thud, the act was committed Onlookers spattered with red. The now ghostly pale head of sweet Bernadette Rolled from the chopping block onto the ground And her mother whose leaden heart grief had beset Wept sorrowful tears beside crimson profound. |
| Poem for Mornings (No Sleep) This is for the mornings after movement sprawled across warm cars (still awake) we turn on the stereo she is still dancing in cleansing sun in sweaty buildings pounding with thousands of sneakered feet on one beat. in lasers in light this is for the dancing girl in the morning. (still awake) for the first time groggy and in awe of we are here all here I am alive. This is for car rides are we really going home? sometimes we aren't, sometimes we are in Connecticut (still) no Vermont. Dunkin' Donuts and Store 24 become our dance floor it is 10:00 in the morning who are you kids anyway? The highway stretches smooth before us the simple sound of the fan begins to form a rhythm. Feet curved into the pseudo velour seat I begin to dream out the window of beds; light moving in yellow ribbons over my resting body but I do not ask are we there yet. |
| Let Spirits Speak On the boughs of the cherry tree branches lie the stories of our untold pasts, and seldom do we climb trees anymore. Graceful with the wind's help they rock in simultaneous motion. Pull a leaf and listen to what the veins whisper; cries of terror precede gasps for air sweet air preferred over stale. Roll under the shelter of a tree taste their unfamiliar tongue, and hear the spirits speaking. Throw your clothes into the wind releasing yourself, and your stories The cherry branches will catch them too. |