and so the phone rings...

hello?
  hey--how are you?
it's raining. look, i'll call you later.

How ironic, I thought

and stopped walking.

IT HAD STARTED TO RAIN.

How ironic that the heavens should weep
when it's all my heart wants to do
and yet all my mind prevents me from.

how ironic...

and terribly cliche'.

And so I sat on the curb
then lay upon the sidewalk
watching the sky watching me

feeling the rain fall on my face

roll down my cheeks

feeling the rain

wanting to cry

praying that I don't

despising both the thoughts

and myself

f o r   h a v i n g   t h e m

If I gave you my heart, would you throw it bloody to the floor?
Would you stand there aghast--afraid that my blood would stain your perfect skin?
Or would you cradle it gently in your hands

your hands that once
held my hands
never held, really

never held, really
but rested upon...
to stop the trembling

I can count the people I've loved on one hand.

if thine right eye offend thee, pluck it out

five fingers
five souls
countless laughs
unending tears

Were my fragile heart of glass, I'd place it--in company--with the tiny breaks facing the wall, ashamed of my failures...
Alone, though, it would rest on the brightest sill, so the nicks could catch the light of tomorrows and shoot rainbows across the silent white of these four walls.

every act of creation is first of all an act of destruction

It rained today
and I felt the rain
on my eyelids
my lips
my hands...

t h u n d e r

my hands turned palms to the sky.


and i wanted to tell you. i wanted to tell the world...

but i could only say goodbye and promise to call back later.

*


It's a mystery, yes
why so many of us are this way
unable to speak aloud the way we wish.

We
fumble for words
the same way we look for our doorway keys in the dark,
incapable of the profound statement or
the dramatic

pause.

We are only erudite in this ether,
clumsy at close range.

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