when did we stop watching fireflies fade during summer nights spent spinning in circles shrouded by stunned emotions holding tightly to the thoughts that we were alone in parks where patrons left hours before leaving us to wade in shallow water, splashing the day’s leftover innocence on one another’s goose bumped flesh cleansing the marks left from the quiet deaths their judgements marked while widened dreams danced off our lips sucking away every desire of a new day while we held the night tight drifting out of sight from the oglers need to be where we were meant to be tripping away from the pain deserted pathways overgrown from knowing it wasn’t the way.
love
from bed, another year older
holding back the hoards of train wreck images throbbing through my synapses swerving to avoid truthful touches while trying to stay on track
words in patterns switched around
happy birthday
blow out your years, wash your hands, and keep bending love lust life language to meet the needs of friends who bare their souls searching for common goals during southern winters spent muscling shoals to the shore.
no magic needed
we created more and fed one another.
let the caboose fly off the track while we dead-aim attack with box cars clashing and engine thrashing every destructive picture gets ripped in two flying in pieces left in grey smog hue.
we can’t look back
we must look within
steady our speed
as we begin again.
from bed, screaming towards a conclusion
waiting
silently shutting off the situations that swirl around trying to stifle societies’ screaming desires to conform to mores developed by square pegs seeking holes to drop into carving out their own space protected and alone calling out over the phone to release that drone that moans in midnight mood dances shuffling back and forth without hopes of touching another time when we rubbed shoulders not elbows held hands not grudges and crashed through ceilings holding baiting buzzing lights hovering above us begging to become debris carried away and reused to pave paths providing opportunity to close the doors leading to places where our extremes kill dreams
instead
waltz towards celebrating the pieces we all carry and illuminate at different seasons on our trek towards making noise in solidarity
from bed, another block is here
transcripts will tell the tale
if we keep them
tuesday’s found are willing to take the toll of the other hours that walkaway and wish you never entered them
like me to you
them to us
a mess to discuss if we will finish what we left
here
when my wishes ended with defined kisses and cheeks that touched to know we were real in this drastic measure time table i sat at while waiting for you to wake on a saturday morning walking out still horny and dragging nothing behind you
i couldn’t come in
too polluted by others instructions that led to obstruction and i couldn’t stay out of my own way
i wish we could go back
to the trials and errors without death step consequences, when you’d catch me
now i rest easy on symphony scales that reach the walls and bounce around to talk to me people will see this is the train wreck we came to grab hands through
steps to take in order to fake a mind like mine and for fucky fucks sake some time alone
from bed, trite tripe rhymes
how do we decide
the importance to place
on sidetracking imaginations
are we forgetting or remembering
relying on or plunging
forward without worrying about the outcome decidedly doomed to give us another surprise eating the well wishes delivered on paper plates
we travel forward
without a dance
we can’t find our feet
without a chance
we can’t feel the beat
reflect
maybe we’ll meet
deflect
i can’t feel your heat
i want to stand near you
from bed, i rose to the occasion
stumbling towards blocks in a road that twists through backroads in a boarder-less country
i turned around
nothing left to be found
on virgin paths leading underground
i chose the high road of memories
pieces of me examined through distant eyes without the flash of a coming surprise i could supply my supple ego and charm with enough calm to disarm relics causing alarm
peace
solitude found in replayed imaginations
comfort in connecting to the past
let me sit, loaf, and find the place where it all begin
a spectator to my own birth
squeezing through mush-hole-muddy mounds where burial dances softened an awakening ground
for the next round
where i’ll be found
distracting myself with where i’m bound
a mere reflection
in everyone’s crown
from bed, after the dance
Male-1
that sounds like fun with double edged swords hanging above as i lay on a table set for two
with you crouching below
Damocles would be proud
it was shallow and baseless the crowds that gathered waiting to watch as we both vowed to leave together with a common cause casually understanding the reality that we would get shocked by sunlight peaking through a stained glass window carrying the memories of a religion lost to human interactions that didn’t match their masters wish
love
be loved
the rest will take us from this sphere of rational thoughts that power and steer us through the eye of the needle passing the middle while he played the fiddle
a tune that we all could hum
om
or shalom
my friend
Male-1
Adam and a friend
starting over to rediscover the purpose of this undercover time
from bed, sometimes sphinx rest in the middle
the pharaoh didn’t walk alone
on that gilded sand
legions of weak dreams followed her around
fading away to a blur
still strong enough to stir the breath of fresh water waiting for warmth in the morning stream of thought that hadn’t occurred without the jarring distant discontented sounds breaking on our painstaking turn to burn the love we adjourn without acknowledging the slight differences between us
i’m not stunned anymore
indifferent
she confronted me as i stumbled with squinting eyes searching for answers to the riddle stranded in the middle of barren emotions balanced on the line of where we’re going and where we went
now
she’s waiting for me
on that gilded sand
leading me to the land of tomorrow’s memories
from bed, bath, and walking upstairs – traffic was heavy
stranded and willing
copper plated evening attire drew me to you and kept us circulating thoughts of wonder and tragedy.
the way we started
moving in circles with motion to sense our lack of control the way we hid in remote locations and occasions of caution with the stream line left to linger on a wandering night through blowing sand and dead elf wishes when cruising through the forest was easier than waking through gilded rooms of gold and silver wishes
deciding it was you who would lose themselves in grafted family trees where it was meant to be
i shouldn’t have been drawn to you
magnetic malice blew through the door halting progress passing through conduits dreamt up by our lost lips remembering the taste of penniless moments dreaming we could be coated again to pass freely to one another’s passions
from bed, your yellow bird
he couldn’t find his way through the textural maze of self-doubt and criticisms sang to him before bed
there were still bars surrounding him
cries to stay alive barely realized all he could surmise is those legs better bend and rise to help him climb up to the only group big enough to feel like he belonged
homo erectus
homo connectus
they couldn’t exclude him
they’d try
running through fields of cigarette butts and self serving pin pricks, random stray dog licks, and get out of here boot kicks he found the porch
there, his eyes, unable to stay as still as his blessed heart laid fresh to his yellow bird.
a peculiar feathered friend who found a perch nestled where the pole met light, well, half-light as it struggled to illuminate the lives left behind by economic rewind and prepared paychecks to keep in-line the ones who had to make it to the end of the row
a distant connection undefined, interspecies, yellow bird stared straight, their eyes catching
he fumbled a tweet sound from lips left without water, yellow bird cocked her head and riffle fired a ‘good morning’
he replied, in english, he figure she’d have to learn to discern the chopped sounds stumbling as pleasantries were exchanged
‘will you be my…’ barely met oxygen when she swooped close and led him down blocks built for ‘others’, this was new
gliding freely, from corner store to school door they followed nothing and found no floor his heels hardly hitting a ground where lines were found, outlined cousins and sisters bound, street names and histor-ies to protect and divide, relied on boundaries and lies that trap and bind our senses
there’s no mystery
it’s the songs we hear when nights are blistery, do they keep us calm or awake, waiting to take this piece of cake promised to us once a year
she led him back to the porch
not a spark, a roaring torch kept him warm and would help inform the decisions left to lead him through the dim lit days
she’ll come back
my morning stream 