Poetica Spontenaium Posts

Steady as a heartbeat.

Not mine, but yours.

Under my ears during the darkest hours of the night.

When I press out from my eyelids all vapor of worry
before they coalesce into a nacreous mist of

memory or dream, vision or blurred

troubled or troublesome or troubleseeking – which we’ll both admit tends to be my nature.
But steady as your heart beat,

are the humble murmurs of inarticulate blessings and prayers and chants of

delight and wonder at each moment when I feel safe with you.

Soft like a eyelash, potent as stone, ever dear to me until all earths clocks tire and rust.

(more…)

It was in my left hand I forgot about it.

This rusty blade, blunt and ugly.

That is until I walked by your side

and down this path

and I tripped.

And while you reached out your arm to stop me

from falling, I threw out

my hand

and an arc of hurt

caught you by the arm.

This cannot be undone.

But it was not with malice done.

Every breath of air between us

and a galaxy trembles for a moment

when you reach over

and trace constellations with your thumb

into my palm.

Such is the every day wonder

of you.

As oceans swell and quake

like rumpled sheets beneath our dreams

that quest for adventure, for treasure, for love.

I’m living layers of light and color

over my socks.

There are these bitter pieces in my mouth.

Sworling around my tongue

Clacking at my teeth

threatening to chip them

Salty, gritty, and wet

like beach sand that’s flung into your face

by insult disguised as jest

and jest disguised as affection

and affection that’s draped in mockery

though careful attention is payed throughout this game
I look at you, with lips partly pursed

as if to say something important and true

or to catch us both with the surprise of a kiss

that decieves us both into believing that we can fix this

and instead find myself

spitting pearls at you.

I’ve been thinking a lot this morning.

Not much else to do

as I lay and wait for someone to

find

me .

As I concentrate on each breath,

my ribs straining against the  weight of the bookshelf

of misplaced thoughts and forgotten intentions

that had fallen on top of me as I got up for a cup of tea.
The weight of this.

These.

The lies inside, the things that we believed

or desperately wanted to.

King James and the voter guide.

Ishle Park and video games manuals.

And the burden that comes

from knowing that everyword bearing weight

over my lungs and heart now,

is a word

that I’ve pushed so far from their proper place

in my sorry little head

that these words, these thoughts, these dreams,beliefs, and musings

should sway every so slightly, moment by moment

in quiet rebellion.

Or maybe it wasn’t that at all.

Maybe, perhaps, more like an anxious and unsure child

with a new toy or with a desire to be held and a shame of feeling small
looking down on their feet and shifting weight

between one small foot to the other

implicit in their silence to request the honor
of being noticed. To be remembered.

To be important for a moment.

And that moment might fruit a kindness

that could turn into a belief that would be fertilized by a passion

that is organic but bullshit free.

Day by day over the years it was like this.

This wait.  This wait. This weight.

And with the thousands of seconds tipping ever such

until it should fall.

And make me notice them again but for all the wrong reasons.

This. These.

An encyclopedic compendium. A ghoulash. A recipe. A set of directions.

To where?
A pina colada of too many cadences

and not nearly enough rum.

But then again, I’ve had more than my share.

When did I stop being able to say the small considerations of no. thank you. sufficient. enough.

Why do I say that to the woman who won’t understand me

hovering beside my plate and pushing a dimsum cart.

But I can never say them to the mirror.

Well at least that didn’t fall on me.

That would have cut me with that crash.  And I’ve just gotten the carpet cleaned.
Will I be found today?

Maybe if I get one hand free I can turn the page.

And maybe.

Just maybe.

It’ll feel lighter.

Afterall.

Did not the whole world start with one word?

I nuzzled up next to you
with you whispering
moonlight and stars
into my dreams
as they spilled
down my neck
and tore open my shirt.
You forgot, as did I,
how very very sharp
these careless
luminous bodies
can be.
Scraping against throat
Tearing against palms
Blowing kisses of
broken glass
into my eyes.
Are these dirty bombs,
these confessions of love.
I understand, I really do.
And I curl my arms carefully
around their desperate explosion.

The only words I write these days
Are in chipped nailpolish and silver hairs
You’d ask me why I’ve become so quiet
But then again, that’s why you’re there

Instead of sitting on this couch with me
Watching sunshine turn to fog
Just another sunday in san francisco
Forgetting prayers to neglecting Gods

I just woke up from a nap with a John Mayer-esque song that hasn’t been written yet in my head. Ever get that? Don’t ask me to hum this for you.

Just thought it was a sweet way to wake up from a nap with a cute lovesong as yet unwritten and otherwise unsung in my head.
*****
I feel fireflys in my finger tips
Everytime they touch your face
I think to myself
How can this be real

I know, cloudy days are turned around
as if you’ve got them under your command
with a whisper and smile
You’ve charmed them to go on home

And every time that I think
I might wake up
and you won’t be laying beside me
I get caught up and can’t find any words to say

So baby now,
don’t think I’m not feeling this
How marvelous this is
Just because I close my eyes when we kiss

Haiku for a cloudy day.

Unlucky am I
carved out by a chilled icecream scoop
my heart is as such

Being near you he said,
was like chewing on warm sugarcane.

Sweet, but quite a bit of work sometimes.
And it required sharp teeth.

How does one respond to language like this
when said over turned shoulder
from one who wears torn and well scraped boots?

“So you prefer Coke Classic. From Mexico.”

And he smiled.

So lost am I
In the wonder of who you are
On your lashes I could float
A thousand wishes and a star