The internal dream

Your soft hair

grace

beneath the moon

I imagine us

light limbed

piano hearted

slipping from key to key

hands on my face

tracing soft accompaniment

I lead you onto oak floor

dancing beneath wax

and French 75 on your breath

moving to a hum

the internal dream

your arms curled around my waist

close your eyes

see ancestors walk

silver hammered

your mouth crushing mine

the oval and the heart

echoing across sound

no barrier

the unraveling trip of clothes

pressing against skin

somewhere ivory music slows

candles burn out

we can smell in the dark

hear the sound

of our mutual breath

as you gather me

as I lean and become

desired

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Summertime

Depression era pink

glasses breaking

into cubes of falling ice

marbles hitting concrete where hard

should never be

we are soft crinoline and chiffon

we are baby powdered and tight wigs on

to march and strut the catwalk of the world

masks and smiles glued straight

for nothing is as it appears

my love

our bottles of time have used up

their sand

the touch of summer burns my hand

beaches and cocktails and empty bar stools

I saw myself there once

I was looking for you

driving in circles

speeding through rain with the top down

we cut our hair, we changed the locks, we left

the light on

listening for the sound of aching

as it crested the hill

driving too fast at night

slick wheels, slow eye movement

the lament of everything on mute

beauty doesn’t exist in the world

when your heart is carved hollow and

that pit returns to grow its peach tree

I roll another one

inhale

it is the smell of summer on your clothes

fading fading fading

cuts my resolve to ribbons

shredding words without sound

remembering as we were

running after each other all night

I found you then

you said

take me home

and I did

wrapping my thin wrists

through your emptiness

until we two were chinks of light

glimmering in wide empty sky

Inspired by ‘Summertime Sadness’ by Lana Del Ray

Electric eyes


She has electric eyes

seem like when she laughs, she cries

when she’s sad she’s full of hope

when she’s lost she’s found the right way to go

her dreams are written on scraps of paper

keeping her warm at night

she’s someone you shouldn’t underestimate

she has electric eyes

when it rains they’re gray

when sun’s out they turn vivid green

when she feels passion they’re multicolored

with the intensity of her unlocking emotions

eyes are windows to the soul

nobody knows how long they have on earth

it’s hard to let go

but she’s brave in her pain

she’s a risk-taker in love

taking chances with her heart

the fragile are warriors

so don’t let her down

don’t rip her apart

she’s the one who silences emptiness

she’s in the recesses of your thoughts

you can’t forget her if you tried

she has electric eyes

The undead heart

b7e9260585815d324f4850ebd699eaf3In my head

there’s a record on a turn table glossy and black

when it gets to certain grooves I recognize the play of needle over vinyl and each crackle is a familiar passage through well-worn emotion

I turn everything on to create loudness

to expunge what I hear by drowning out

the washing machine, the dish washer, the blender, the coffee grinder, the lawn mower, the radio, the alarm clock, the hair dryer

I run the bath, I run the shower, I run the sprinkler, I run the garbage disposal, I run away from the song

It has one word going round and round

one face, one memory, two memories, a thousand

a wrist with a silver bracelet on, flung in sleep against burgundy sheet

every time you brushed the hair away from my eye, every squeeze of our fingers captured, every kiss, every smile, every year I see the wave of loss it is not so far beyond turbulence

today the clouds will not clear, I get in the car, I tune to the loudest song, I scream as I drive, years burning my eyes, straining to see through my own download

If I had a name for it that name would be wreckage, ruin, destruction, destroyed, unplug  me, burn it out, scold,  defeat, disintegrate, desolate, muted, drowning and burning at once

I would be a legion of black horses sweating sorrow

I would be a night never turning into tomorrow

I would be a shroud worse than death for the one glimmer

that hurts the worst and makes you hold your breath ever deeper

a chain, a spike, a hammer, a knife

and all I felt was love

and all I wanted was you

and all I am is nothing

It plays round and round

like two hands cupping sound

no amount of running or noise can disturb

the undead heart