do not fall to your knees its not like i believe

if i were back on the coast
this wind
would be a storm blowing in from the sea
the air would be filled with the smell of salt
and the calls of gulls
circling blown off course

here it is the smell of asphalt
heating the air from miles back
tumbling over this city

i remembered to water my plants this week
their leaves are thick with summer
something is flourishing in my home
the orchids put forth blossoms uncalled for
in rooms i hardly visit
they sit and wait
for discovery

. . . . .

awaking in the morning to your panic at my side
how many times has this happened
pulling myself out of dreams
to find someone there
lungs crushed
stomach twisted
muscles cramped
mind departed
a malady replacing what was a lover in my bed

sometimes i wish
that i slept deeper
that they could not rouse me to their panic
that i should never awake to such distress

should it phase me more?
to see the one id wrapped in love hours before
laid bare and human
suddenly so at the mercy of their body
but calm sets in at such times
fear anger sadness and pride all step aside

the birds were singing to calm us down

im not sure whats keeping me awake these nights
the airs thinned to breathable
my bed clean and tucked tight
no reason for my mind to keep tickin
on like this

i can feel it though
if i laid me down to sleep
i would not slide down into darkness
but lie wracked
and pondering
no stars above my head to set mine eyes upon

choices made
impulses followed or trampled down in haste
laying bare and unusable
wrought with shards
that path id rather chase to its ending

my voice is harsh
too long held silent
breath bated waiting for a story's closure
but none will be found
an odd feeling when those tales
as you expect to know their closure
trickle off to nothing
never shall i know
never shall anyone know
they have all gone to nothing
figments left unclapped for
no bells have rung
wings stilled before they rooted
settled at last to mere memories

but these dark ponderings shall not do
not for this night
not for so late
my hands swolen with the weathers shift
knuckles tight beneath this skin
i taste of salt

sweatin it off

outside my skin breaks to a sheen
even walking slow
the air close and tight in my lungs
so stepping indoors
into this climate control
feels like my chest has been opened up
every folicle stands at attention on my arms
and the drip of sweat down the back of my neck
chills me

i am dead in the water today
amidst the doldrums

left thinking of all the things i could or ought to do
to better myself
beneficials instead of these
superficials

exertion

always an odd thing
to see yourself from two steps back
examining those moments
a smile perhaps too wide
chin tucked too tight
shirts pulled askew

too often i catch myself
too late
ive reminded myself i ought to
smile more carefully
comb my damn hair
but. . . in truth
then it wouldnt be me so much captured in those photos
now would it?

. . . . .

my hands are raw
from hefting plywood
arms sure to ache tomorrow
scratches to stand out from skin
still caked in dirt and sand

ive no idea
nor desire to know
where these scraps have been
collected from dumpsters and back yards
damp and crawling

i drank too much coffee
still jittery at 2am
wishing i were out
wishing for something else to do
wishing i didnt have to be responsible
and eventually get some sleep

my bed yet unmade . . .
at least i finally washed my sheets
towels clean and folded away
awaiting the weekends worth of visitors

too warm
too still

the way you hold your knife. . .

by echolocation i find you
in crowded bars
on street corners

beyond the blur of the crowd
your voice your laugh stands clear

i can see you by the cant of your shoulders
the bend of your knees as you sit there
calls out to me
identified as familiar
amidst the clutter of limbs bottles cans and glasses
some full some empty
a littering of distraction
insufficient to keep my eyes from finding
what i know too well