Astronauts (081218)

You'll make a spaceman out of me yet,
baby boy,
make me press to your back
like some redundant tattoo,
an astronaut to your astronaut
heart beats beating morse code rhythm
to a shoulder blade,
constellations in smooth skin.

Galaxies of freckles,
snores that rumble through my body,
the string theory of your chest hair,
sunlight travelling lightyears on umbilical cord train tracks
(your belly to my hand)
just to rest in my bone marrow,
run electric light lines through my stomach.

When I hold you,
knees folded under knees,
I have a whole universe in my arms
and I'm punch-drunk-blessed
by the stars in my arms,
the sun shining shadow puppet mythologies through my bones
sending rays to light a universe,
like some newborn god
overwhelmed by the world hatching at his fingertips.

A Night in Three Parts (080130)

I. The Swans

The swans glide
with hard white coercion.
"The bagels," they mouth.
"The bagels."

II. Vision

strong forearms ripped
round, into brand-new colors
each facet, each string of muscle
a different mysterious letter
jumbled
falling into the open well of my eyes
touching the black back,
scraping with light fingertips
my brain's wide open pores
soak
soak the world in
the forearms, the calves and elbows and tail
alone in the sparkling dark
alone, my brain and fingers and toes
connected by one tingling rope of nerves
the wolf-man smiles
flips his tail from side to side
and every color, every speck of of earth clinging to his grassland fur
sucks into his wide, invisible, darkened face
the world shifts
when my fingers spread
when a cat winds around and around an ankle
when soft fur or harsh memories clasp the hand at the back of my eyes
the world shifts when you smile
and it shifts
when i don't
lost in seven or nine dimensions of love
eyes agape
and teeth sharpened
the wolf-man takes
one, two, many steps towards me,
each signal from brain to skin
is number one awesome
the wolf-man takes
one, two, many steps towards me
and every movement
trembles me to my core
the wolf-man takes
one, two, many steps towards me
rips off his face
the one i never could see anyway
releases the colors trapped in his
invisible smile

III. Auditory Blanket

The world subdivides
into layers upon layers.
Losing myself into the traffic sounds
I snuggle into the bus
and pull one single auditory blanket
over my head.

Our Towels (081206)

Last thing I saw leaving was our towels
and they looked good, twisted up together.
Your bluegreen against my stolen motel white,
the way I wish my snowy winter
would get woven up with your smoky city spring.
Warp and weft pulled tight:
index fingers pulling belt loops,
your stomach hugging tight against my hips
or pressed sweaty to my back.

Our towels look good together
like our lives would go well together.
And I can tell myself I know I'm bein' stupid,
wishin' for things I ain't ready for,
things I didn't even want
--til I met you--
things I know I'm better off without
(commitment responsibility city living a "real" relationship).

But I think about you leaving and remember
you sayin' I don't know how I feel about hand holdin'
pressin' your palm to mine, twistin' our fingers all together,
you sayin' boy, you grip that dick like you got one
grabbin' where mine ain't,
you sayin' I can see myself fallin' in love with you
while I was shy in the sunshine, thinking I could feel myself slipping those first few inches into you,
you sayin' I'm not a PDA kinda guy
then grinnin', offerin' to fuck me on seventeen other people's porch,
you sayin' in the spirit of bein' straightforward, Toby, I'm feelin' you
while I was still trigger shy,
you sayin' tell me somethin
over and over til I put down my 40 and did,
you sayin' you got a nice ass ...for a white boy
through a cloud of Newport smoke,
me callin' you baby boy for the first time.

I think about you leaving and have to remind myself--
it's just 'cause your options opened up first--
I told you to do it--
we both knew this would happen--
it's better for both of us--
really--
I'd leave you if I had somewhere to go--
it's just 'cause we were leaving we let ourselves get so involved in the first place.

(Yeah, we say that,
but could we have stopped this?)

You tell me I made this cesspool for you, made it as good as it could be,
You like how I say "motherfucker" in my poems
and cuss when we sweetfuck.
You're excited to see the man I'll be in three years
like you're glad I didn't see the fool you were three years ago
when we lived a block apart
and you loitered outside the beer store
next door
to the bookstore I worked inside.
The sarcastic part of me says you're just tired of goin' on all my beer runs;
the mean, self-preserving part of me says you just want me outside in the cold while you roll honey blunts in the warm.

But most of me just wants to cuddle up,
pull your head under my blanket and hibernate our winter away,
because even while I'm spending your last week with someone else
in some other shitty upstate town
you keep my bed just as warm
as I'm uneasy admitting you keep my heart.
Because when I stepped out to the train station
my hand-made quilt buried your freshly washed hair
and all I could see was our towels,
still wet from last night's shower,
hung up on my door and twisted all together.

She Said (081109)

“My hands always smell like Sharpie,” she said.
“And my wrists, my wrists, they smell like blood.
Your eyes always look cartoon,” she said.
“Your ears, they’re always hearing them,
but my face is always covered
by someone else’s lie.”

“I’m always tasting Sharpie,” I said.
“And I want, I wish, I want to heal your blood.
Anime eyes are always closed,” I tried.
“When I’m hearing them, I always think of you
and I want to wipe your past
clear, from all those other boys.”

“That monster still crouches in my brain,” she said.
“But you were, you are there to save me.
You’re always puppy warm,” she said.
“That scarf you have always smells so good,
but I already gave you the red
flower, full of love.”

“I guess I always loved you,” I finally say.
“And when I call, call you beautiful, I never lie.
There’s a Sharpied imprint on my arm,” I say.
“You know that this time, it’s for real,
and taped to my dashboard is the red
flower, full of love.”