Enabling

The slit of your skirt
enabling the perfection
of the surface
of your skin

Little water
enabling the
scenario
of my hand
on the perfection
of the surface
of your skin

Loneliness
enabling a little more
and that little more
enabling regret.

The Meaning of It All

There is a glue in my brain
helping me keep my shit together

Sometimes words make love in there
and sentences are formed

Sometimes they collide, explode,
or run away
and her doe eyes
tell me I've injured a beautiful creature

Sometimes words lie in wait
like childhood monsters
so I jump away from the bed
for fear that they will grab hold
of my legs

Brain, glue, words
Grain, whobirds
Wrainbluegourds
Blandwoolgirls

Irises

I played piano on a rainy Sunday night
swimming in a blood red bottle
of $9 Kendall Jackson
as the vase on the coffee table
reminded me
of a night
that will
never happen again.

You had bought flowers,
irises,
and asked what I thought.

Without looking up from
my magazine,
I said,
"They're beautiful."

An argument ensued,
about my not listening,
your past indiscretion,
the nature and composition
of the space-time continuum.

Somehow we ended up
in bed
with apologies,
and clothes,
and sweet nothings,
scattered around the room.

Now I buy fresh
irises
every few days
and they are beautiful
and you aren't here
to see them.

Rising and Falling

There is rising and falling
in a world of meticulous design.

Moonrise, nightfall,
a rise to power,
a fall from grace.

But the world of my design
was the sweat of your skin,
the pleasure of your laugh,
and the rise and fall
of your meticulous body,

rising and falling,
rising and falling.

Sinking

I am
sinking in fact
to that very place
you told me to go
just because
you said it.

Connoisseurs of the Dream

We are
connoisseurs of the dream
and our reach extends
beyond the car payment
and the housecleaning.

We can't sit down,
can't shut our eyes,
or douse the flames
lit in small towns
all over the world.

I Lie In a Grave, I Lie Like a Baby

I lie in a grave, suppressing
every tear and earth shaking roar
born of your dismissal.

And you descend
from your lofty post
still holding the weight of two worlds
on your shoulders.

Somehow you manage
to bring me beauty and glory
and all their sisters
before the last breath escapes.

And I lie like a baby
staring at a mobile
in awe of every movement
that is out of my reach.

Twelve Seconds of Answering Machine Tape

It's funny how twelve seconds
of answering machine tape
can fuck your entire day.

We invented a technology
capable of never missing
calls you never wanted to get.

And we in the pouring rain
were a little less technical
and a little more primal.

The Magnifying Glass

Hesitation and heavy breathing
like the lights of L.A. from 10,000 feet
through a commuter plane window
with condensation between the panes.

The city is living, pulsating almost,
spilling over its boundaries,
and I hesitate to catch my breath.

Where are you now?
Kissing someone else under the stars
at Jackson's Orchard?
Stumbling drunk through the streets
of Austin?
Pushing away an impatient sailor
in Monterey?

The city is still awake and so am I,
with and under a magnifying glass,
looking for you.

The Sun Coming Up Over Monterey Bay

I watched her pack
and choked down
the impulse to make
breakfast for her
as she glided from
the closet to the dresser
trying to remember
all the small things.

It's just as well
that I didn't.
She wouldn't have cried anyway
and wouldn't have stayed.

I fixed a drink
and lit a Camel
the way I always did,
trying to look cool,
holding it by the filter
with the tobacco cupped
inside my hand
then sliding off the end
and raising the match

to set in motion
what would never leave me,
would never take my heart,
open old wounds,
laugh at my jokes,
kiss me delicately
as if she knew my heart
might break,
or smile
like the sun coming up
over Monterey Bay.