Excerpts from a letter, and other verses


my apology drowns in your facetious
exuberance. waving truth down with a
wicker finger. an eye brow raised, hazed
by a adolescent silence, where I, burning
with need

and trust

and hate, bleed ... near the center of your
torn feet.

this is calamity. my grin, slippery, and shinny
but sickening at the same time. speaking
in screaming matches.

in the end we are standing on opposite sides
of a thin wall; like glistening ghosts who
can't reach out and touch each other. like
lovers, in-love with their naked shells.

just to reach out to you is the deepest connection
that I've felt ... scratching at the thick surfaces
of surrender.

I wake up in the night - body hot with sweat and
dream-pleasure -on the floor - kneeling - knees
burned from the rug - and my head is in my hands -
sobbing -

writing a letter to you. words flourish in a stagnant bloom;
I wait for the look on your face when you read it. I dream
about the contorted shape your face will take

when I let all of the love lean out of you; like a
shadow eclipsing itself.


aftermath: I am not beloved. special. needed.
I am not his favorite. his only. I cannot be
all things to him. his view of me is a one-sided
one, while I look to him from all angles.