face, or, fate.

when you look at me that way,

you look at a stray in need of a home

and someone's love,

if you paid attention to my face,

you'd see a hint of skeptic glare:

stop your sympathy,

stop your care;

lay me down 

and feed me cyanide. 

many people have looked

to fill their quota for 

good samaritans go to heaven,

greedy to do a good deed,

packaging words like magic pills 

that would

ideally

last forever.

they never read my face 

the way i want them to,

but maybe (says mirror)

this face grows uglier

the longer you look.

poor mother, to see 

her daughter become me.

can't be loved if 

you aren't pretty, but mother

never had that worry, 

had those boys chasing

quietly 

goddess of all untouchables.

she'd chosen a smarter man 

who could not love her 

the way she wanted to be loved, 

for he was lovely in a different way.

and like a princess trapped 

she cried, and tears drowned

her firstborn, lost in existence:

died before it cried a sound

or coughed once in air.

and thus the angered God decided 

mother's next and only

child would live a similar fate

lost in existence

before her eyes had opened,

frightened in the womb

and born with fear of life.

she would eat apples with a love 

for their bitter seeds,

tread waters 

with impulse to drown,

hold knives with blood 

dreams and sad things.

if you'd read her face and understood,

you would have heard 

her smiling eyes 

gurgling as they drowned:

lay me down

and feed me cyanide.

advice from an old woman who loved too much, then too little.

silence is an awful price to pay for love,

this is advice from an old woman who 

loved too much, then too little,

then retired from the funny business

of dealing chips of hearts to gamblers

who never won and never lost on her table

but simply took the chips away to bet

on the roulette table's only piece of green.

yet the little round thing always ran 

too much, or too little, always landed 

on red, red, black, black

and wouldn't you know it,

they lost those chips every time.

it was her job to deal out those chips,

there was no other way for her to live,

she needed the pay and something

to occupy her mind and her hands.

working meant less thinking,

less regret, less hate and God,

take me away from here.

at night, her crying composed of

dry coughs and her head

not composed at all, her hands bang

and slide softly against her loose thighs,

unconscious movements

to smooth out her age,

one hundred touches for each minute

that has passed, plus interest.

if you can, imagine this scene without sound.

this old lady's world has no sound.

her naked body, preserved in this jam of years,

smeared across the beds of many past lovers

and men, strangers and even stranger strangers,

lies, unmoving, on her wooden floor, no longer

glossy, now

separated, empty

splinter ghosts pulling her flesh in under by her weight

in by her dense cloud of yesterdays collected 

in a penny jar filled with pay, chipped heart bits

tips

from the nicer customers who never understood

why they had come to this place to gamble

what little left they had sheltered in

their sweating hands, nervous with hope,

a guilty pleasure all on its own.

but she knew why they came,

living in their sleep the times that never change,

to take a half breath between drownings,

to elongate the process of dying to prevent 

the final act

whereupon

one lies in a wooden home, quiet and still.

on hopelessness.

i will write about lovers

because i will never be

complete without thoughts

of birds and bees and their

ugly children flying about

in my face when i can't sleep

when i can sleep but won't

sleep flies in front of my face

and asks me why i won't go

to bed with him tonight

why i won't go with him

right here and now

if i could but i can't

can and won't

tonight

why do the buildings fall

and the rocks crumble

under fresh air violent

under gentle water rushed

why do the flowers open

if they know they'll rot

within days or hours

in the months crueler

than those in winter

why do the children grow

and the teeth renew

when the fates will take

and take them away

when the birds tell me

it's another day now day

has come has passed

but you and i have not

lived in life but death

bodies building but for

a final fall

we are fools in this room

too much in time to think

what of life is worth

night and day after day

and the birds tell me

it's another day now

and what will you do

outside of this room?

who is responsible?

and what does your brain tell you?

you tell me your mind does not work.

well, tell me your brain does not work

and i shall call you a liar

for look on how your hands do lift

the strands of hair poking at your eye

and you tell me your brain does not work?

see the way your lips do part

opening and closing like a lifeless fish

and you tell me your mind does not work?

then observe, for this one is sure,

how your heartbeats do carry on

now quickly as if catching a bus

pulling away as you run later and later

is that not by your brain or mind?

liar.

and a bad one at that.

who is responsible for that action

if not your brain

if not your mind?

now you admit your brain does work

and your mind does turn

after all you are breathing and living

though life is dull

so should i ask you what you already know?

that if your brain should work

your mind be responsible

for your hands' constant motion

your mouth's breathless running

and your heart's flighty racing...

very well then, tell me:

who is responsible for your brain?

i did not ask.

inspired by friends' words on your wall

whitewashed and dirtied and whitewashed again

i stared at the sentences slowly running down the length

of top to bottom to never seen and ever hidden

why, then, do they write on changes of paper

whose wish and will is only to travel south

eternally rolling to an unknown anywhere

better off than an endless everywhere

yet poorer than there or here or here or there

now looking at these words of everyday tones

she says hello and you reply in wishes for days

of nothing in particular but always goodness and health

and may we live until next year's birthday party

when all we would do is exactly what we have done

today we lived for nothing in particular

and tomorrow we will live because the days are abundant

because the day after tomorrow will wait on us

waiting with the patience of a mother who is too tired to speak

waiting in her silence, her yes and okay.

now hush

just listen

i did not ask

for your opinion

so on one of these quiet days we will walk out our apartment doors

and pick up our newspapers delivered on time, again

but this time when we look down to the printed headlines we will see

no headlines and no words and no date and no names

and do you know why?

now hush

just listen

i did not ask

for your opinion

no, we have not yet gone blind with our senile lives

(but good guess, for we will soon)

for like oil stains that are too long ignored

these similar days will ruin our whitewashed walls

which, at an eventual time, will have turned transparent

ignoring our wishes for a whiter white, a new beginning

when the walls are recklessly dirtied beyond repair

you will no longer see the words your friends have written

on your face your horror congealed with disbelief

do you not know what is happening?

now hush

just listen

i did not ask

for your opinion

yes, i know you did not foresee this

but you have heard from your parents, have you not, of this

monstrous creature who deletes all your memory of files

of memories you should have kept so near to your own heart

but you, silly girls and boys, did not believe your parents' words

for you thought them old and dated, useless compared to today's great things

that man has created, things greater than God,

things greater than all, including you!

now hush.

just listen.

i did not ask

for your opinion.

you realize at this point who is old, who is dated, and dare you tell me

who is useless? dare you tell me

whose responsibility had been forsaken? dare you tell me

anything i had not known already?

oh.

am i bitter? 

and now have you any reason not to be bitter,

forbidden from speaking as if my hands are on your mouth,

as if my nails have clawed your lips together and sewn them forever,

as if i have any power against your wish to tell me some more lies

made in denial?

why, look at me.

i have no hands,

i have no control,

i barely have this voice

residing in your mind.

and you, dear, should know better

than to call me a fraud:

have you forgotten

that i used to be simply

the patient, silent voices

of your memories whitewashed away?

sunspots.

spring kissed the grass

kissed lovers good night

who heard not the poison in spring

fever from ticks in the ground

too many twinkles to count

blinking wishes hung up to dry

would crash us any day

if they'd only try

before earth stops its dance

before i escape this trance

keep your voices low

keep me aglow

light the collapse

observe

nothing in its place

silently exhaled

to nothing we'd go

from nothing we appeared

parallax:

measured by 

your

i

distance 

from here to there

remains

unknown.

did i

did i go there

to that place

where one should not

or so says Father?

did i go there

two days before

then yesterday again

and today too?

did i go there

down that path

where two shall go

i went alone

Father did ordain

do not rush

when you are ready

you shall travel

with your heart in place

with your mind on track

with your body strengthened

and someone to care

but did i go all alone

two days before

and last night again

what i did too today

and Father knows

when i did sneak out

behind the tree branches

where i thought

no one would see

but i, at night

wherefore i thought

the evening has no eyes?

for what did i

trip down that lane

where dead mud of ages

moan in dark

yes, i, did i

fell into that mud

unclear, unclean

and withered

for i took my own hand

and felt for it

and thought i found it

when i was all but lost

they say you die

on that road

should you travel

down that way

did i go there

once twice thrice

did i die

or merely burned

some dark light

in that dark night

some dark moans

in dirt and sweat

and Father knows

though i lied

i do not believe

i took that trip

yet so clearly

on my skin

were those bruises

that made a girl

so unwhole.

now, now.

would you like to know:

your heart is not the only broken heart in this long line of wounded soldiers forced to carry on through this most unkind war and remember you willingly signed up for the battles the good the bad the beautiful the beautiful the beauty of life withering in front of your eyes looking at yourself in the mirror your mouth opened and your eyes shot down like pawns left to drown surrounded by the sharks that love to tear your heart smelling of freshly squeezed blood streaming down your down your down on the floor playing on the floor playing with love playing dead with love does not love you like you love love love standing inside that microwave heating up your heart on a plate of blood dripping on the white on the white beeep beeep beeep you love to watch it go round on a merry go around like a child laughing with his heart still whole like a whole apple that has not yet ripened not yet bitten not yet oxidized gone bad with mold so no one can eat it but if you want another another heart another another heart i can give you mine you can have mine you can have you can have a heart have a heart.

gel.

i do not love you enough

to run after you

i dip my fingers in sadness gel

and smear it on my lips

i do not love him enough

to run after him

i dip my fingers in sadness gel

and smear it on my eyes

i do not love her enough

to run after her

i dip my fingers in sadness gel

and smear it on my nose

i do not love you enough

to run after you

i dip my fingers in sadness gel

and eat it with my lungs.

ready. (in process.)

last summer, you told me to listen

to a man whose name was good

as the loneliness of his voice

singing of the islands on which we live

singing of the sun we had torn apart:

we cannot share what is whole

we break it then wait 

with palms of blind beggars

wait for our piece to fall

into our hovering hands

holding on to nothing more

than that coin of chance 

and hope rusted

last summer, when my mind was still

so unsure for you and your words

when my mind was still shaking

from the way you walked

unto the closed pathways

still in construction

made your foot soles stick their souls in

my undried cemented pavements 

worn before they were new

when my mouth had said no

no longer will i

no longer do i

no longer the endless yes

yes to late night magic tricks 

yes to sleepy eyes of early mornings

yes to rainy weather and baked sighs

warm inside until it was too hot

until i had to go outside 

and catch a cold 

walking in the sweat of dying clouds

would you say i am an honest one

who can say no when i mean no

who can say yes when i mean yes

who can say i don't know when

i don't know

and i don't know

when to say yes

when to say no

when to say i'm sorry, goodbye

or i'm sorry, i may have lied

i may want to still say yes

say i do

to last summer's hanging rain

collecting my uncut hair

last summer, i told you who

i loved you and hated you

i slept with another boy

with smiles drawn on my hands

had covered my mouth

and forgotten you

until you asked

in the summertime,

we wait for rust to fall

off that lonely coin we hold,

wishing we could catch a cold--

though we are no longer warm

even in that post-spring burn--

remembering, in the year before

rain only came in pieces 

of our broken sun.

[if we could, we would]

if we could, we would

tell each other our secrets

in the soft glares connecting

all our word pools together

unspoken but said

in the footsteps we make

in our goings and walks

down the stairs

down the road

when we see the secrets

unspoken but said

in the way we close our doors

in the way we shut our eyes

in the way we run away

before i ever approached

before i ever looked

before i ever tried

to see the secrets

unspoken but said

behind closed mouths

drowning somewhere

in our minds.

verses conflicting.

like cold air rising

mother sends me off

with words from 

the mouths of men

deep in trouble

like i, waking

with timeless time's

blood on my hands

reflecting the look

of God's present eyes

like night breath leaving

these soft foul gates

rusting in saliva

creaking teeth

endless war

like i, living

yet with discontent

may no man say

i am incompetent

though we know

like snowflakes melting

on heated stones

where your head lay

where your thoughts 

spilled unintended

like i, mother

of none of none

with stilled blood

wrinkling skin

my bags of weight

like wine spilling

on virgin carpets

cheap waves rushed

euphoria forced

upon the floor

like i, daughter

of you of you

unnamed

unhappy

God hears me not.

hands on

a man with pretty hands

and light colored hair

frowns a sad frown

soft like childhood

fairy dust

his hands on

a soft woman

a lady

nice all right

soft like a feather

on his cheek

soft like lips

on his closed eyes

soft like 

soft like

his hands on

soft like skin

slut turned nun

brita filtered

water boiled

happiness fired

swallowing wind

his hands on

his closed eyes

will not open

till she cries hard

wolf wolf!

and he sees

a running beast

and dies for her

only truth

hardly hardly

a rare sight

his hands on

being born

born again

from a virgin's

unsullied mouth

now opened

from heaven

down to hell

to the shouting

of the belle

his hands on

time

laid out

passed out

in pain

in passing

time in

time out

his hands on

she make him

oh does she 

does she

she

make happy

him happy 

hands on

hands on.

to be.

and after now

i cannot unsay

i want to be your favorite person.

i want to be your favorite friend.

i want to be your favorite flavor.

i want to be to be to be.

i want to be your favorite daughter.

i want to be your favorite mother.

i want to be your favorite lover.

i want to be your woman-girl.

i want to be yours

is that too sweet?

is that cloying

as it clings

to the roof of your mouth

like peanut butter?

can you breathe

or have you cotton balls

stuck inside your narrow throat?

well, too late

i said it now

i said it all

unabridged

bluntly like a four-year-old

caught with candies

in her paws

in her pockets

on her lips:

i want to be to be to be

your favorite forever

forever forever.

to a magician.

truth be told

i want to sleep with you--

but that is all:

sleep--and that is all.

no private parts:

we will be open

with nothing between us

nothing to hide

under below 

or from each other:

we will be

the cotton sheets:

sandwich of patience

always savored

never consumed.

and all i wish

is to sleep with you:

in sleep i trust 

you will make me 

disappear.

scenes.

1.

oh darling

brother said

do not go alone into the water 

you do not know how to float

you do not know how to run 

or how to live there.

2.

i jumped before he returned

i tried to walk in

like walking into home

like normal

in the water where the creature lives

where the grass is in tangles and gold

where the grass tangos 

and holds me close.

3. 

do not be so quick

you cannot 

cannot leave me here

do not

do not leave me here.

4.

when i was 6

i learned how to swim

in a pool so shallow

with water too clear

too medicated and too blue

when one day i tried to swim

and the day was too cold

and the water was too cold

and my body was too cold

too medicated and too blue.

5.

darling darling

i told you so

i told you do not 

do not go there

you do not know 

how to live there

do not

do not leave me here.

6.

mama tried to give me ginger soup

give me some warmth and breath

but my lips were too blue

i already too cold

then mama cried some ginger tears

all hot and nice

like sugar and spice

like the stuff good girls are made of

stuff i never had.

7. 

it's lonely here on sunny days

the waters are warm 

natural and nice

makes me wonder 

if i had waited

if you would float

beside my body

darling now.

come.

it does not matter if we take a walk

on the bed of spilling skies

if the clouds just roll on by

we can sit on the grass

and listen to our whispers

lie

take a blade between your hands

blow and hear it scream

like a duck brought to slaughter

in the room where echoes live

haunting corpses composed of dust
blow and hear them scream

do not touch me

i am old

when you come to this place

clouds roll on

sheets slipping off the bed

as if i never left

as if you never said

"let us

go then

you and i"

down where?

they all go down there

the same route left and right

some take longer

and some disappear

some last for one night

and some never come

some never leave

and some never wait

and what if?

can i take you with me

up to nowhere?

and what if?

can we just wander

and walk and watch

the clouds roll on?

will you come

if i have no wine

if i have no smoke

if i have nothing

but this bed here?

will you come

if i have nothing

but this bed here?

old age.

you touch and go

forgetting you

remembering is

hard at this age.

you gave up on them

a little too soon

memory of memories

who tried to say

look at me

do not let slip

who i am

who am i?

look at me

do not be blind

i am you

and who are you?

unfortunately,

ears do not wait

to hear

or be heard

life is unknown

until you leave

babies and funerals

trees that weep

circles go round

strings unwind

looping music

looping years

orbiting in a vacuum

surrounded by fire

water and ice

dusts of time

who can live

in this space

who can play

in this box

and did i pay

for my way in?

and will i pay

for my way out?

and what if

they had not kissed

had not loved

had not hated

me, look at me

who am i

you, look at you

who are you

when i cannot hear

the ringing sounds,

round and again

miss my wake,

wind that cries

almost never

never dies

dies.

in heaven, in hell.

will be happy

will be scared

will be will be

the day you cared

have a drink

sweet apple juice

have a sip

feel the noose

tighten

lightened

of this

this heavy burden

hells bow down

to your words

queen inexperienced

queen of desire

won't you won't you

stay right here

won't you won't you

keep me safe

you hear him say

in this hell

i love i love

all of you

and in heaven

past lovers frown

recalling empty

once and forevers.

conscious.

conscious 

of the fact that

i have all this

and more.

i know you are

conscious

but i

am more

conscious.

conscious

of this extra skin

this extra flesh

these extra extra

extra pounds

or kilos

or ounces

or wafer lights.

conscious

of this extra 

extra extra

top of the morning

to you

to you

news of extra

extra extra.

conscious

of this extra

extra extra

all the love

all the money

all the water

a third world

hopes for 

extra extra

all in my hand.

conscious 

of this extra

extra extra

guilty guilt

all the privilege

and throwaway

pennies and wishes

on the floor

unwanted

unseen.

extra

conscious

skin

pound

money water

love and guilt

forgotten wishes

on the floor,

melted together

under my nose

like a rain puddle

dead leaves and dust.