Science [or] Fiction

The rising smoke burnt her searching eyes
nimble fractular prosaic blurb tonics
She sees the light of a thousand worlds in his lies...
love is chemistry, sex is just physics.

The Dollhouse: An Aftertaste

Love might be overrated
my brain swirls like that crazy cappuccino smile
As sure as Nora left Krogsted
to linger upon your lips awhile.

The Fall

Cast me down from heaven for misleading,
Apple gave its all, but lost bitter sweet to time.

The real world

(created with a poetry scrambler)

this life is too complex for me.
Summer burns on, and my insanity grows.
careful, dawn is never me
decapitate decaffeinate expresso

Expectations

No, I wasn't a safe thing for you.

a dancing, frolicking, prancing colt of a girl
with a terribly ponderous bridle,
always trotting along
in some other place than this world.

shelter entinced me, walls held me
safe within their confines, but only briefly,
until the world outside began to press in,
fitting me for it's iron shoes and saddle.

No, I'm not broken in yet,

and if it's safe you want, look somewhere else.

Magnetic Poetry: Romance

touch promise,
tiny wave in love,
worship under sky
think sand
say sun
flicker together
haunt my paradise.

Magnetic Poetry

your question empty
you say
to the young

use the pain.

Decay

Erasure Poem #3

round the sanded road, half-way down,
square and solid, bulky against the hills,
the Structure puckers little lines
across preserved cheeks.

he was anxious as he pondered
the cracks on the walls,
his lips unconsciously shaping
Something that had become

detached,
half-
forgotten,
lonely.

the derivative of choice

an obstacle
is equivalent
to its casualty.

The Return of Listen

Erasure Poem #2 (created at http://erasures.wavepoetry.com/index.php)

Night startled.

Wind sprang to the oars
and rowed hard to intercept her,
all strength and willing.

Chance felt sure,
but Sound grew fainter
within the fog.

Day passed,
a bitter disappointment,
full of the lack of each and all
of which we were perishing,
unconscious in a cry,

while Thought hurried along
in the great city
and wondered if Listen
might come to us
out of the deep.

Life According to the Moon

Erasure Poem #1 (created at http://erasures.wavepoetry.com/index.php )

When hither the Moon met us
and commanded us
She was angry that she
had suffered, not in words, but openly.
Torches, when they went out, were wont to say,
“the moonlight is beautiful,”
but did not observe the days at all correctly,
Threatening her
and sacrificing reason;
thus, we ought to spend our lives

According to the Moon.

Pinballing Through

that's funny and tomorrow?
oh yeah, i forgot
pay attention
but what about
yeah i know,
ok seriously
have to get that done
before i do anything else
oh! i really want to
yeah, i saw that!
no, it wasn't just you
don't worry
ha wow okay
i should really
Pay Attention!!!
this seems right but
Oops, missed it!
oh come on
it's happened to you
and before that?
no way!
that's ridiculous and we

should just slow down.

i ramble, but bear with me...i have a point somewhere.

you know i
tried to run away
And i thought i
was doing a good job
but i guess i
wasn’t
because here i
am, back where i
was, but at least this time, i
am a little happier

and really,
right now,
that’s worth a lot.

The hat and I

Mexico sounds like a lovely place
I tell the mysteriously ethnic hat
that hangs on my cubicle wall
And I wonder what that hat meant
to the nine-to-fiver before me
Who starred blankly at the exact same
spot that I am right now
And what his (or her) hopes were
and if she (or he) pinned this hat to the wall
With a purpose:
Inspiration maybe or nostalgia
for the days when life
meant living

There are a great many reasons
that could account for this
echo of existence,
hidden from all except me...

And it's fun, for awhile,
to stare at the hat
and read it's creases
like a story,

But it also makes me wonder this:
if you hang your hat up somewhere
And then forget to bring it with you,
What does that say about you?

Or the hat?

the purpose of hearing

the song he said
is more than music
So much more than music

how can we find the rest
they wondered
and hours past
as they tried nets
and traps and ropes to catch it

Then a small boy closed his eyes
for a long moment
and breathed a sigh of relief

i’ve found it he said
it’s simple really
you just need to listen better,

that’s all.

Bafflement

You deserve each other she said

If that’s true i replied
then why won’t it work?

Because life has something else for you
she answered & sometimes
knowing that must be enough

& she smiled sadness and hope
In my direction.

Hallelujah Chorus

if there were one thing
I’d hope you knew,
it’s I smile a song
when I think of you.

and smell a kiss
and I breathe of you
and I hear a touch
and I see of you
and taste a hope
and I dream of you

but this one thing,
I give to few....
know I think a smile
when I sing of you.

and I hope for me,
you do it too.

Tread light and with purpose.

My favorite foods
Don’t live by the sea
Nor do they grow
In the ground
My favorite songs
Were never mine first
But comfortably-aged
Hand-me-downs
My favorite stories
Don’t hide in a book
They reside in my heart’s
Rapid beat
My favorite times
Belong not to day
But awaken whenever
I sleep
My favorite colors
Inhabit the world
And there isn’t just one
I could choose
My favorite seasons
Change with time
As my memories
Soften with use

My favorite stories
sing food to the songs
of the seasons
and color times found
but My favorite flaw
is having favorites at all
for, in this,
I’m intrinsically bound.

It’s a long drive and it’s cold out there, so be careful.

there’s so many of you
running around
that i’m never sure
who it is exactly
that i’m talking to

don’t worry though,
i guard myself
with a precision
only learned
through years
of experience

and we can’t quite touch anymore,
because that’s the way of things,
as it turns out…
and you and i are forced strangers,
self-inflicted when necessary

but sometimes,
like a smile i’m not expecting,
there you are,
standing before me
like you’ve never left,
like i’ve never gone,
like we’ve never changed…

and in those moments, i am home.

Middle Class

i can almost do a lot of things
well and sometimes
kind of okay.

mediocrity is my middle name
and when my mother calls to me
to come inside
my cheeks flush because now
everyone knows.

that’s my inheritance
wrapped in brown paper
without a tag
and it’s almost right
except for the details.

but no one bothers to look close enough
to see those anyway.