put on some smiles
just big enough to patch over the gnarlY knot in your chest
like heartburn that hikes up your esophagus
banging at the gagging gate of tongue-tied anxiety
lOss




wait a little longer


pending


i'll be right there


imminent loss


where's the door handle
actUally
where's my door handle
where's my key
where's my Camera
your knot is picture perfect
just let me wAtch it from this side of the glass
thaNk you
oh, my bloody feet have broughT me to the new door between us
shall we tAke a walK?
slow down, thank you
wait for mE, thank you
and let's talk about knots
smiles? no, let's not, thank You
Once
Under
Redwoods

Beautiful
Lilacs turned
Orange
Overnight
Displaying
Yesterday's pink

Thursday
Insulating rays in cotton
Making it grow, a knot in the
Esophagus

Things synonymous with BLEAK:

-That American actor who wears black-rimmed glasses and features in eye drop ads on TV.
-White
-Dark
-Flat
-Uneventful
-Hopeless
-The career choices of a philosophy major
-The sky above Everest
-The jump from Everest <-- appropriate time to deposit a sign: "Blame the British."
-People
-Silence
-British dental health
-As it should be for a man who hits a woman, Chris Brown's career
-A cloudless sky
-"Wait a sec"
-As it should be for a man who hits a woman, Sean Connery's nether regions. Let me scalp and beard him legally and I'd do it, if you know what I mean.
-"My dear, itsh naught wuh-king out."
-The taste of Beer <-- debatable
-Beginning to cope
-Blah
-Getting out of bed in the morning after the realization hits you again that there would be no more schmoozing with the same mountain of wonderful, sparkling neurons known to you as your ex.
-Realizing afterward how insignificant our choices can be, and how the ratio of their real importance to us divided by their total importance to this world jumps from 40% to 90%.
-Knowing how really selfish you are at the end of the day.
-Depressing
-Finding out all of your chocolate has fruit in it <-- debatable
-Bleaker
-American foreign policy intelligence
-Three-inch slices of pumpernickel
-American intelligence
-Alaskan governing and voting intelligence
-Moodiness, from the perspective of the people around you who have to deal with it.

Give an ant your bathing suit
Teach a bear to pilot
Demand the moon to snow
Alas, they'll tell you no

no, No, NO

My friend, sit back
And take a nice looooooooooooong look
At all six legs
That you shaved the fur off yesterday
How hairy will you get
Before you ski naked down Rainier
And land in that pine tree you've been eying?

Ask a sick clown to make you happy
You might as well;
Your shoulder being too cold
For you to climb down

Leave me alone

Nous étions des fous, nous deux. Tout ce temps je le regardais les yeux, mais j’ignorait l’entaille de sa jambe, et en même temps, je souhaitais qu’on pourrait marcher ensemble dans une nouvelle direction. Que j’étais bête. Je voulais faire voler une abeille noyant. Que je suis bête. Que je suis bête.

Est-ce que ça me ferait du mal à grandir un peux, d’abord? Maudits émotions. Merde... J'ai envie de jetter quelque chose...

His laughing smile a spurt of sweet lemon
His honesty outshining mine

Would I have noticed
His spray of freckles
His open heart
His embrace
Had the night not been cold and lonely
Had I been humane, considerate,
Logical?

Ten years from now we may be a lost speck in the wind.
Today I devour your heart and our time.
I know not why I do, only what I do.
I am sorry

~Silk Wing

I'm standing on the edge of a lonely, grass covered canyon. Rays of sun drift in through the clouds, and a violin from nowhere seems to play a high, wandering melody. My scapulae rise to the occasion, unraveling into the threads of my being, reaching for the sky. First, they hug my chest from behind. Then they twist away from me, snapping and sticking as they weave.

I jump.

The wind blasts my face, and the river below approaches. Suddenly, a gust yanks me. My limbs kick the air, all six of them, and after a face-crushing climb, I see trees turn to circles. The river becomes a line.

The clouds above me drag their gray cotton through the sky -- fluffy fabric of fog that rips as it blankets the sky. I could reach out and devour a clump.

There are no windows between me and the cool, sizzling air.

I am home.