I'd been listening all night
To his telltale heart
And the secrets it told me
That his lips could not...

As the season turns to frost
And trees are lit aflame
I'm reminded of the weighty cost
Of playing Passion's games
Of love inside and cold without
Of pride and shame and rage and doubt
The fire inside that moves us all
The rise that builds before the fall
But what would we do without cold and hot
To remind us to feel every second we've got?

On a misty spring night
With the moon at its peak
I rounded the corner fast
And saw you there
Encased in glass
I could barely speak

You dared to smile,
That gentle, squinty half-smile
That smile that told
The stories of your eyes
That lit the room with gold
Against the deepening cobalt skies

I splashed in your laugh
Like a bird in a fountain
And stumbled into your depths
Heard the clanging of ships
Under a Red Eclipse
And warmed myself in your breath

Pulled under
Into waves of wonder
I've inhabited the leagues of your heart
Every year must end,
I've learned
But then
A new one has to start

I prayed for the enemy that could have been my friend
I wept to think a game of chess might bring a bitter end
Forced to play the darker side
No paint can change the wave or tide
The palette has blurred, the image obscured
No masterpiece this eve
An unsteady hand is not so grand
And the watery eye deceives.
I know--
Pain will always make words flow, be they wrong or right
And so I guess since my heart's a mess, I'll say a lot tonight.
Shall I yell out the gritty?
Or call out the shitty?
Or fake and talk pretty
For you?
What if you find that the hues of my mind
Have painted things real, clear and true...?

there's a place in her soul so deep, and so raw,
that a mere breath could shock the nerve
acknowledging it's there raises the bile
and tears fall where they cannot be heard


she bottled this place in dim tempered glass
encasing the storm none dared view
it was safer that way, she smiled to herself...
but still worried that that was not true.


cascading sunbeams in a gloomy sky
he wore the storm on his face
though he had sealed his whole self inside,
she knew she recognized that place


and while she was reaching to pull him out
he slipped inside her sealed chamber
she cringed as he sailed through her ugly truths
but he held her and kissed through the danger


does he wonder how she could love such a man?

why?

City lights
Reflect in the raindrops
Sprinkled across panes of glass...
Night song pulsed through me,
Shimmering into the first shades of morning.
I delight in the silvery euphoria
Of liquid voices,
Bassy beats that tremble my body,
And electronic melodies
That echo a post-modern reality.
I sway into the throbbing crowd,
Feeling the passions of a  generation:
Love, agony, lust, tragedy--
We crave release,
Thrashing about in a moment of dance.
Surreal lights flash to hypnotic rhythms,
Glowing colors illuminate
Beads of sweat sizzling on skin,
And I surrender to the night,
Relishing in its sweet intoxication.
c. 1999.

There he left me,
standing in pools of fluid emotion
filled with love that aches...
The night wrapped around us
and we spoke to each other
with only a gaze...

His kiss, it lingered
on my lips
as I watched `til he vanished
into the mist
and his voice
echoes through my soul:
"A manana"...
c. 1999

It's always hottest
Just before the storm--
Oppressive skies of passions' fire
Glow oragnge with warning
Air so thick, so tense,
So inescapably dense
The film lies upon you...

...And you wait for the storm
To crash in release...
Thunder calls out in the collision of opposite  forces...!
Lightning its silent scream of friction...!
The sky breaks,
A flood of release
that subsides
To soft weeping
Under shades of misty gray sky...

It pouts
As it heals,
Quietly reflecting on the chaos,
Cooling off
Under the dewy dampness of spent tears...

c. 2000

Pulling myself from his warm, wet arms
 was hard enough...
out into the sunny snow-glared street--
 the slick rush of noonday traffic
 as I kiss the man who confuses me,
 my toy toying with me,
 playfully unsure...

Rumbling around in the backseat
...almost there...
fumbling around my purse for cab fare
--see, I've missed the bus again--
too busy wrapped in his body, unfolding his mind...

He wants to know what I tell them.
hell, people hear what they want to,
especially when you're not sure what to say...
damn, I don't even have time before work
to have my "calming cigarette"--
those cabs always come so quick...
meanwhile,
love leaves you waiting...

C. 2003