Sometimes My Heart is a Drop of Rain

Sometimes my heart is a cuckoo clock that only opens once a year
and sometimes my heart is a table top that no one wants to clear
sometimes my heart is a candle flame—enough light for one surveyor
sometimes my heart is a drop of rain, falling forth as an answered prayer

Sometimes my heart is a chest of drawers, so full it can't be closed
and sometimes my heart is a repertoire that has yet to be composed
Sometimes my heart is a photograph—pulling upon the past
sometimes my heart is a watered plant that drinks love much too fast

Sometimes my heart is a dusty shelf that no one seems to notice
and sometimes my heart is a wishing well that longs to hold a lotus
sometimes my heart is an hour glass that never seems to fill
sometimes my heart is a thunder clap and breaks all that is still

Sometimes my heart is a locked door that dreams to be left open
and sometimes my heart is a metaphor that doesn't want to rhyme
Sometimes my heart is a hobbled chair which still believes it can be trusted
Sometimes my heart is record player—turning even when it's rusted

Sometimes my heart is a beautiful book with one word on every page
and sometimes my heart is a soiled root digging out of my rib cage
sometimes my heart is a picture frame, destined to hold the frozen
sometimes my heart is a drop of rain and falls until it's broken


_

Courting

9-4-05

The air overhead is clouded
with questions that should be falling
from our mouths, wetting this dream
with reality.
I have not turned
but something tells me
I'm laying on a swarm
of cracks and crevices,
like a bad case of fragility
is about to envelop me,
and I would come out
as if strained
in tear drop pieces
on the other side.
...pulling the pulp
out of my beaten heart?
Folded into the middle
of your bed
I cannot tell if I am holding
the right side of you,
if I will be your angel
or your demon,
if you are a sleeping beauty
awaiting our first kiss
or a victim
I should spare.
.

One Last Kiss

6-19-97

I come to you here
to tell you my dear
that I'm off to fight in a war.
It's quite far away
and I'm sorry to say
I'm not sure what the fight is for.
But my country's in need
for more soldiers to bleed
and I am a patriot,
so I'll do my part
and fight with my heart
and hope I come out of it.
But if I don't,
and I won't say I won't,
but there's always some slim chance,
I want you to know
how I think of you so
and enjoyed all our times of romance.
Now don't you cry,
I might not die,
maybe I'll come out with a medal.
The war will be through
I'll come back to you
and we'll find some place to settle.
I leave tomorrow
but have no sorrow
for we'll put up a damn good fight,
but before I leave
on this mid-summer's eve.
I'll ask for one last kiss tonight.
One last kiss before you cry.
One last kiss to remember you by.
One last kiss before I go to die.One last kiss, then I'll say goodbye.

Jump in My Fire

8-13-98

Place yourself inside my hands
fall back into my arms

Feel the warmth of my body
where no one can do you harm

Let me sweep you off your feet
and carry you with pride

Stare deep enough into my eyes
until our souls collide

Watch the sparks fly like fireworks
into a blazing fire

You'll find my heart within the flames
for it is you that I desire

Jump in my fire
and burn with me

.

...For Ice Cream

I should have found it odd,
I suppose, that driving past
a glowing Baskin-Robbins
would make me think of you.
 
But now I have to admit
I want nothing more
than to use the tip
of my tongue like a little pink
plastic spoon
as I sample
the multifarious flavors of you.
 
From Belly Button Swirl
to Neckline Divine
I will savor your
every ounce
melt you between my lips
as I explore the subtle
smoothness of your—
chocolate-caramel-coffee—
Neapolitan skin.

After much (intentional) indecisiveness,
tasting and re-tasting,
I will finally choose my favorite
and reach for your neck—
the sugar cone I cannot wait to nibble on,
which holds the sweet, round,
perfect scoop of your mouth.

I'll do everything I can
not to let one drop go
un-tasted, even lick you
from my finger tips.

And together you and I will indulge
in the childish fun of making a mess
and cleaning it up—as if our eyes
are full of hot-sticky summer days
and there isn't a rocky road
in sight.

__.

My One Poem for Lala...

This is something I wrote my ex in the first couple months of the relationship, when everything was sweet and rosy and not full of lies and betrayal. When there was SO MUCH hope and un-damned love...un-dammed love. I don't think I ever shared it with you guys. It's not GREAT but...if you repeat it a few times it rolls off the tongue nicely. It may be the only poem I ever wrote her...I cant remember. I haven't gone back through those files in....yeah. But this one...has been comin to mind lately. It helps that I have it engraved into the side of my brain. I even made her memorize it at some point. I thought it might help us. I don't think it helped us. That's the kicker. I wrote this....Before EVERYTHING, before all the turmoil, laid out my intentions before her, clear as could be in black on white. A map of my love drawn out in a few words. The fact that it came to have even more weight and significance for me and us later on though is a trip. It's like my intuition was at work behind my back when I penned this, or maybe I just KNEW there were troubled waters under that beautifully controlled surface....but I underestimated their depths. Everybody's got issues, right?! Yeah, NO, some people have WAY WORSE issues than others. Let that be known! I'm not sayin she's still that way now, I'm just sayin she was that way then. I'm just sayin I wrote this for her, for HER HEART and she never got it. Never appreciated it...never understood how much it meant. How much love I was declaring in this declaration every time I whispered it to her. What a waste huh? Anyway...

All I wanna do is give the gift of love to lift you up
well above the riffs that rub and rip you up
well above the tiffs that tug and trip you up
til there's little left of what you truly love
about yourself or anyone else you know
cuz what we've felt has dealt the hardest blow
enough to melt a heart at sub-zero
til it PARTS
And a warm river starts to flow
that waters every part of you that wants to grow

Beds are Lonely Places

Beds are lonely places
like untouched deserts
You can roll around in one
like a slow wind
but nothing really changes
You are a dune in a black and white landscape
You are a form, a shape under a thin sheet
of moonlight
Your solitude is solid and intact
You want to destroy it, but everything is so soft
You can't
It folds and unfolds around you like oil and sand
There is nothing you can do
but wait 
for a flood of phosphorescent love

_

Will You Believe Me Then?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In Bangkok
at six o' clock every evening
they play the King's Song everywhere
and wherever it is heard
wherever it is possible
commuters stop walking
joggers in the park stop jogging
and everyone stands still for minutes
as if hypnotized by the sound.
I want to take you there,
not to show you but to kiss you
at that moment,
so you can see with your own eyes
how your kiss can stop the world.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rarity

9-4-05

If I could spare you
my disparity
but wear for you
my tattered sincerity,
share revel in our
similarity
but not tear you
with my severity...

If I could care
fully for your polarity,
snare you ever so
barely,
dare to wonder at your
singularity,
but not impair you
unwarily...

If I could flare up
for your eyes imparity
prepare you a smile
with cuckoo clock
regularity,
scare the fear out of you
and into scarcity,
without despair or qualms
over brevity,

I would be more perfect
than either one of us
could bear to be.