heart transplant

You say you're fine
then you look at me
like you need a new heart
and I am the surgeon. 

Turns out I was the donor.

three for one

I.

your insecurities 

are awe inspiring

but in a bad way.

II.
I feel the deep pettiness
you are burdened with
and I wish I could 
rip it off you
like an old band-aid;
it will hurt
but just for a second.

III.
your paranoia
is the wet suit you wear
to swim in the sea of bullshit
you have allowed 
to overflow into your life.

two for one

sorrow the spoon
drips honey on the floor
cherish the one who no longer
grief, holding all your feelings back
until you are afraid
sorrow the empty spoon.
     ***********

the great wall

your silence,

an impenetrable
conglomerate
of concrete resolution,
the great wall.

there you are,
the warrior,
in full uniform,
your helmet pulled down low
over your eyes,
looking down upon me.

as with all dark forces, 
your strength  is also 
your weakness.

I leave you to your wall,
turn my horse
and ride.

Love

at the bottom 

of the falls

under the pounding 

water

the rocks

wear away

until they are 

hollowed.

loss

(Just so there is no confusion, this poem is a rank out and complete mockery of anyone who thinks that they can get through life without ever facing themselves; you know who you are.)


it sounds like a thing you could lose...
you would look for it under the couch
and say "where's the loss?
I can't find it...

I know it's around here somewhere.
I just saw it a few weeks ago."

then, you might find it

it might look like - beauty
or love
or friendship
or an old sock full of lint and dust

and you would say "ah, here it is",
checking it over for any damage,
feeling a little indifferent to it
or maybe you would be 
happy,
joyful even

that you found the loss;
and you can put it away now, in its proper place.

just another love poem

"what kind of a person does that?"
pain, my friend, causes much that we do not understand.
despair brings only despair, therefore
question not.
for to walk over the hot coals
of critical acumen into the fire of regret
-where there is no water
no wine

no vice

that could ever quench you-
can bring you to a truth 
that burns a scar so thick
nothing, not even death
can penetrate it.  
In that isolation
one can not know faith.
yet
wisdom may come
at some far removed moment
and the many long hours of our lives 
that were wasted in an instant
are regained beyond all previous measure
with a mere change of mind.

Hamsa (the swan)

this morning
how different? 
how much 
the same.

I have known you.

is it enough?

to walk through this life with
only this small pearl
in my heart.

ah,
but it has grown
already,
to be
an 
egg.

tomorrow 
perhaps,
a swan.

will I be able 
to carry you,
forever,
within me?

No.
all birds
must 
fly.

I have known you.

is it enough?

don't forget

Nothing changes, New Years Day. 

how am I here

I stood in your shadow, a mere reflection of your wish.  
There is nothing of me in that.  
I worried how I could make my self Visible again...
I watched you change from one minute to the next.
I listened to my heart close 
when you pressed on my mind with your own...
How do I tell you
when you tear the paper?
How am I here
when you take the door down?
How can I live when your need 
is bigger than my whisper?


These are the things I felt, when my feet left your room 
for the other room where I could think.


These are the things and more and more
that never came out of my mouth
for fear you would tear them, for fear you would banish me...
I lived there...
I walked through your rooms with vanilla on my hair...


But you crushed me and smeared me into a stain.
Now you talk of me in lists of evil doings,
you rant that I raved.
But as you are so fond of saying, 
It didn't happen in a vacuum.
 

then I remember that I did forget

I could almost forget your cruelty today, 
then I remember that I did forget. 
 For so long, I  forgave this streak of rage 
and meanness in you, 
that now to remember is almost like a dream.  
Everything that hurt was buried deep in me. 
 As it emerges I cannot restrain my weeping.  
I can't leave the house for weeping.  
It comes upon me like a huge wave 
and floods the floor beneath me.  
I am standing one minute and on the floor the next.  
Your vicious words fall out of the closet in my head... 
they are spilling and spilling towards me.  
I have to let them out and flow away forever, 
but it seems impossible. 

preempted rerun

We were faith.  
It was a project, many years preempted. 
I sat on your lap in my kimono.. 
and you told me I was too young 
and that you were going away.  
I nodded my head.  
You left.  
I stared out the window for a few weeks.  

There's that feeling again.  
The windows are so big.  
I covered them with white cloth, 
but it seemed like a shroud on reality.  
I bought curtains covered with green vines... 
now, I sleep in a cold castle, alone.  
It is like a death.  
The loss of you is a dream unrealized.         

                           

lines in the sand

The lines in the sand 
drawn with small wooden rakes, 
and our love is an island 
in the sand sea.  
The people stand by and look at it.  
They say nothing.

Your letter today 
an impossibility...
how can I have lingered,
watching the Koi,
and not noticed
your cruelty
for two years?