Soft Blankets

August 3, 2011

No longer
do I need
your nights

just an evening
dark alone

the hours slip by

until I can
show you the light
of a soft blanket dawn



August 3, 2011

Please don’t speak to me
of your violent gods
and of your intense passions
or your honest religion
and your duty to save
or suppress

or of your romantic rides
and your mexican dreams
or your love for martyrs
and your white boyfriends
or your third world contacts
and your glass parties

please don’t weigh me down
with your promises
of these


August 3, 2011

Oh child of the revolution
you cut your sweet hair
for the neon gods
never once regretting the fact
or questioning the what for

wrapped in your encrusted flags
you speak to me of  your morality
while scaring my children
with your stories of them

you who found yourselves in the jungles
only to return to the delusion
of glass cased concrete dreams
is this the citadel we strived for
has memory stopped

i wanted to ask you
what made ourselves so different
but your only reply was patented slogans
and ice magic nostalgia trips
as new youth becomes just a wet dream
enforced by shopping mall mirrors

this demonstration is over
the music has stopped
but you’re still dancing

Strange Creatures

August 3, 2011

Within this place
an imaginary call to order
as a separate peace is derived
outside these spheres
of light and darkness

a gathering of survivors
broken vessels complicated
they desire to perform
with missionary lust
in holy grace and perfection

they decree nothing
no taste for sanctuary
one path to follow
one past to break
one road to the city
where the strange animals
burn bones upon trees fallen

they control both rocks and mortar
and build walls in splendid isolation
conception of a race without design
no moon guides them this night
only something to aim upon

Shoot down the sky

outside in the darkness
new creatures take form
with soft claws unattached
as they await to follow
in the footsteps of man


August 2, 2011

When dying in someone’s bathroom
body and needle on the floor
simple etiquette demands
that you close your eyes
so they don’t keep staring
every time i close mine

Butterfly Cages

August 1, 2011

Who breaks a butterfly
that lands in their hands
a cage covered tight
as you peer between fingers
must you pull off it’s wings
to examine it’s colours
or will you let it fly free
to dance patterns in air
for to see it’s real beauty
you have to let go

When Fingers Kiss

August 1, 2011

A voice
in the air
the static
of waiting
as  pictures
offer promises
of the  possibilities
that hands might
finally touch
as fingers kiss
and i finally
touch you
with my eyes

In Your Silence

August 1, 2011

In your silence i remember
the comfort of your illusions
that guard against the mornings
that wait outside your doors
to be enclosed in this confusion
where whispers come out slowly
words mistaken but not spoken
nights broken on the floor
where carpets are forgotten
in the darkness i’m still falling
in your silence i surrender
as i wait for you once more

The Killing Fields

August 1, 2011

First the pounding
unheard vibrations
through the ground
then the hard grasp
ripped from earth
the violent separation
roots torn and damaged
the shock and violation
as cold death sets in
layers upon layers
the skin removed
until the butchering
commences into little pieces
no face no smile no eyes
the conscience placated
through the unheard screams
of the killing fields

For Vegertarians with an attitude.

Drowning In Air

August 1, 2011

Did you see me there
drowning in air
unable to move
or speak
words turn
to concrete
falling on
your floor
for breath
waiting for
your hand to
pick them up
or sweep them
out your door

The Soft Touch

August 1, 2011

A glimpse
for just the moment
always without warning

an exchange of words
then the touch withdrawn

until the silence of remembering
forces the eyes to return.

The Silent Hand

August 1, 2011

The irony of a dream
to finally hold her hand
yet to never know
what it feels like
to have her soul
embraced in yours
fingers wrapped
tightly in silence
like a glove
around the heart
always knowing
that she’s there
but to never
feel her touch

The Promise

August 1, 2011

If i promised not to love you
would you let me hold your hand
if i promised not to touch you
would you let me feel your heart
if i promised not to care for you
would you see me in the shadows
if i promised not to move you
would you feel me in the dark

if i promised not to speak for you
would you listen to my fingers
if i promised not to whisper
would you breathe upon my skin
if i promised not to bleed for you
would you lay upon my wounds
if i promised not to pray for you
would you kiss away my sins

if i promised not to need you
would you let me be your silence
if i promised not to break you
would you speak to me in tongues
if i promised not to fall for you
would you let me in your darkness
if i promised not to stay with you
would you love me once i’m gone

The Accidental Memory

August 1, 2011

The hand remembers
what the heart has lost
a skeletal frame of memory
an image that forms
upon the touch
a forgotten breath
that whispers
believe again
in softness
and the promises
of winter
though there might
never be a spring

Broken Dawn

August 1, 2011

That delicate moment
before you wake
when the borders
between dreams
and the dawn
remain unbroken

no different than parting
the face slips away
as you wake again
to a bed alone


August 1, 2011

Frozen souls
wait on guard
like icicle soldiers
standing in rows
in a darkness
terminal cold

they wait upon
a sunrise blinding
a spark of light
a spark of life
to begin the slow
process of melting
these glaciers of hearts