(for j.w.3)
You handed my voice back to me the night I realized I wasn’t alone in this journey to self knowledge
On which there can and will be snares and tears
And I think you may just be as afraid as I am

I see you through the darkness of my room
I lay in my bed, my head nappy and loose
My chest free and my spirit opened wide for you

I say to you that I enjoy the peace of your spirit
I enjoy allowing it to lead me where it does
Calmly laying its hands wherever it pleases

I enjoy the lightness of the moments I share and the cool breath I feel on my skin when I listen for your voice
Always with a soothing beat
Drumming softly in my ears
And me always searching the database in my brain for more than one way to connect to you

I say to you loosely ‘eclectic’ and a dam falls out of place
Water begins rushing towards me
I have released a flood and ‘sorry’ and ‘I didn’t mean’ step up and assume position as I will the sky to remain cerulean
Not yellow
Or red like the night we met when words came easy and fear was as far as a country called cuba

Distance is a very real thing
Though intangible it has the potential to kill things that have been given life

Ahh but the sight of ink sunken into trees that know the direction of the wind
The images created by the mind in absence are stronger
They hold a depth that may be overlooked
Glossed over like photo paper, developed and made to seem unreal

But so far as real is the magic of belief in the unknown
I shall hold onto the unrealistic dreams that make their way into our minds
Periodically tabling our hopes into this galaxy we call home
Each idea holding its place as a star in the vast deep blue
Up above our heads someone is dancing a freedom step
Letting go of the rules that lock us out from possibility

Step, bounce, step, lift
Head up, arms out
Eyes on me

No matter how new each day may seem
I will be the bark of the trees
The stones beneath your feet
The clouds above head, puffing up your ego
Rain that falls, giving breath to life not yet born
The song that comes in the nighttime and brings you peace
I will be the sun shining beneath your eyelids when you slumber
And like a recurring pain in your knee, I long to plague you with the goodness of memories

A muscle flexed among arms intertwined
Soft lips brushing soft lips brushing soft lips brushing skin to skin
Rubbing and sweating
A heartbeat
Eyes locked over two glasses of honey-filled goblets
And an apology for time wasted or not well-spent

Embraced against the pattern of Brooklyn streets
Tree and garbage lined
Rock solid footing
Face to face with your reality though unrealistic she may be

She is
As real as you are willing to make her
Make her your reality and she will fall
Bare and barely there

But hold me
Hold me in synapses of your mind
And let us reconnect and create memory over and under and throughout this so real distance so as to mold unrealistic dreams into breathing, moving reality

(for j.w.3)
My friends
They tell me to have fun
In dating and getting to know people and when it becomes no longer fun to let it go

But see I have this difficulty in separating fun with the constant thought of the possibility of the future

Like, well this is fun
Can it be fun for a long time?
Can I hold onto it?
I hope so cause I like it a lot

And I was there
In that moment where it was fun to just kiss and tell
And smile
And act like I cared
But then he got hurt and called me crying
And I don’t want to be the one making tears fall
But I don’t wanna cry either

His name is unspoken
But he speaks to me often
When he wants to
And he likes it
And I like being thought of

I also like not having to do much else than breathe
But I know this is temporary
And I don’t like temporary arrangements

And I don’t like having to hold onto these pieces of what will eventually be the past in hopes that it will one day become a future
If it looks good why can’t I have it now?

Are we all in some hilarious game of limbo
Waiting for the pole to drop
Knock us out and then back into consciousness where we’ll finally be not trying to set up our lives anymore?

I want to have fun
I want to meet people
But then no I don’t
I want to meet some ONE
I don’t need more than one

But I think he, the one without name, is just into having fun
After all he’s only here for a while and he might as well live it up

At the end, perhaps he’ll say something wonderful and romantic like
These past few weeks/months have been wonderful
I’ll think of you always while I’m away
And every time I’m home we’ll be together

I don’t know
May not be good enough
This may not be the answer

there was a time when i would think of you and smile
that time has passed
but i think i see it now again in the horizon

your voice in my ears sounds good
if i read you i can hear you

in my mind you are here

here you are

(for j.r.)
A girlinmyoffice left crying today
Wet crowded hereyes when she came over to me,
Tiredandoverworn but openarmed and still full of heart,
Asking the simple
Grabherid
Left on her desk
She needed to leaveforher papi
It might be the last time she gets to see him
Shewas rushing to the cold place full of life on the brink of change
And sudden death

She was trying to stay stonecold
Officelike and right
And she came to me because I am her officialbackup
I hold her up when her back gives up

She came to me and I knew
it was timetomovefastbecauselifewasbeingheld
for this moment
She was rushingtothankgod for years given close to the beloved
whose time it was to go soon
And I responded
Walked straight pastthemorons with
big names and even bigger titles
The heartlessandprofessional loveless
They love less and she came to me

Was it because sheknewIwould know?
And knew I did not really belong?


I know I am a world different than the waters in which I now tread
My breath stops just short of deep these days in fear that if I do inhale complete, I will choke
and die
and my life is not theirs for take
is not yours to fill,
you with no regard to personal space and business
life is not a business
mine is not your business
and maybe that is what the girl with the tears knew
her business was hers until she wanted to share it and with whomever that was
and they are not welcome

Sunburn (for adam)

I was thinking about you on the train today
About how ink is so much deeper than these micros we use to try to express
And I wondered if it’s even worth it to really try to spill ones self electronically
Because there is nothing really to spill
Ink blots and feelings can be smudged and words can literally be shaped
Circles and lines misfigured in a moment with no notice
A hiccup
A sneeze
A random reflex
A phone call that interrupts the flow

You would never know of all this with a well-constructed email
But the hand
It seems the hand can tell no lies
In its pain we find ourselves stepping towards glory
How far we get is lodged between desperate desire and blood rushed necessity to win the war of mind over matter

And does it matter?
Or better, do you mind if these words reach you electronically and are from my mind?
Would you mind getting to know me?
To be the recipient of every thought I have?
It might be fun to be that close
Then again, it may just hurt

No one should stare directly at the sun—you’d go blind
But you can still get all the nutrients you need just from standing in its heat

So I suppose if this is me being real with you
Being straight-up and honest with you
Just like I want to be
This is me asking you how close you want to be to blind?

Somebody had to prove it didn’t they?

What is your goal? And are you afraid of sunburn?

i had only been waiting about a month when the letter finally came. resurrection had not only lifted jesus, but me too and i was still high and not coming down soon from the spirit of God.
i walked into my apartment, phone in hand at ear and my mind was slightly attentive to the voice of my linesister, whom i do deeply love. and there it was sticking out from my door. this large-ish envelope from USPS with a smaller envelope inside. not that i could see the writing, because i couldn't. my eyes had computer glaze permanently stuck in them and there is no definition anymore. but i knew it was from him. my friend who i have loved since forever, but for us time and energy never collided.

so i came in and ripped it open, not expecting too much but knowing something was there to be held onto, just like all the words we ever shared. rip, rip. tear, snatch, open!!!
and finally a small slip of paper along with a brochure for something--i'd read it later. eyes scan, heart listen. phone call over.

okay, reread.
words, meaning, feeling, care all there on the paper and then...what? what cd? wait. there was something missing--now i knew why the larger envelope had been there at all. the smaller envelope had been entered against its will and the music was gone and i was there. left shouting into some unearthly void, hoping to transport my angst to another continent because...because i needed more. and the more i needed was too far away to be placed on my desk of will dos and keepsakes. and the sound of music presently eluded me and all there was was a silence of a poor kind, barking below, and keys on a music-less keyboard that would hopefully say the words to bring it back to me. the rhythms the songs the melodies the richness of it all--the reason for each selection that was to have been given to me. not here and not now mine. but i was there and i was looking for what i hoped wasn't lost forever. because lost forever is a very bad place to be.

so i began on the quest to find all of what was mine and to make it, quite literally, music to my ears.

for m.h.
maybe it wasn't you
maybe it was van hunt himself
in my ears
flowing through me
falling me to sleep
touching me all over
entering my body and staying there

not moving, but holding position until further notice
but whoever it was or is
he came into my space
and now that you're gone i smile
i prefer the memory to sleep

laying in my bed late friday night i held my eyes tight and saw into myself
the black that makes me me
and in that depth--all of its knowns and unknowns--there was a goodness recently discovered
you excavated the site and found me
and i am full with passion and filled with a joy that is real and rich

i walked down the street in shorts and flip-flops
brooklyn pavement below me stirred up a mess of grit and grime as rain fell from on high
and as i kept pace and teeth chattered, a grace surrounded me and i walked high on spirits and life
and it feels good to know how good i feel

i suppose
this is all to say
thank you for reopening this closed case
and thank you for rousing me from my uncomfortable would have been sleep to write you this song
alive in my ears
and you
live in your body
until we again come to sing the same song

I’d seen him when he’d gotten on. He was carrying a big red folder, thick with papers and what looked like what was most important to him in life cause he was holding it tight to his chest like he didn’t want nobody to take it from him.
He got on before the really tall white man in the gray suit stood in front of me. Boy was he tall! His head almost touched the ceiling he was so tall.

I was knitting and another girl’s music was going through my head cause her ipod was playing to the public through her headphones. Some kinda jazz music. Sounded a little bit like Kenny g, so I wasn’t too upset at the peace being disturbed.
Anyway, I think the girl musta gotten off cause after a while I heard his voice. I don’t know why I knew it was his voice. Or how even.
But I knew.

He was motioning to the girl in fronta him to do something. I never figured it out though. Got distracted I suppose. Between his smile and her suit.
She was asian maybe. I never saw her face. But she was wearing a nice suit. It almost looked handcrafted and it suited her body well. Fuschia and purple checkered with a mermaid bottom in the back. And it was wool I think. The jacket and skirt matched and she looked real nice. She had on her ipod so I wonder if she even heard him when he called her classy. He seemed real happy to have her standing in front of him. I thought maybe they were gonna fall in love like they always do in those new york love story movies. I think it woulda worked out real good cause he was wearing a plaid-like shirt (flannel I think) and I think he had on jeans and a pair of work boots. But he still had that big folder that made me at least think he was a hard worker and up to something great.
And other than the whole hanging cord business (which, it seemed to me she was tryin to pull through her clothes but from where he was sitting in front of her he could see the path of it much better) you woulda never expected the two of them to be talking in the first place. I mean, he was a older man—maybe almost 40 and she was round my age I could tell. And it wasn’t that they shoulda connected—I didn’t know neither one of em from night or day—but they did seem to get along for those few minutes. And then he stood up after a little while longer of her fumbling with that cord and him smiling his straight-white toothy grin to let her sit down where he had sat. I thought that was nice.

But it turns out he was getting off. And it turned out that was my stop too. And that’s all I know about them. Maybe they were good friends who just happened to see each other and start to smiling. Either way, made it a nice ride to think about for the day.

(for c.s.)
have you ever felt a way about somebody where you just couldn't let go?
and if you did you'd be letting go of yourself

ever fallen asleep to the rain and when you woke, it was still storming?

i loved a man
a musician
and we loved
he played while i wrote
and we loved

one time he kissed my neck
and i didn't even catch the fire until he was long gone
too wrapped up in the moment to live it
our goodness was too good to me and in its presence i didn't know whether to be thankful or timid
and i don't do timid

so now
years later
i kind of
pretty regularly
almost daily now
call
or stalk
my once in a lifetime love

i know he still plays piano
now he plays me too
morning and night
his touch is my response