Put It On the Calendar

Suddenly it's a cold rush,
The sweeping wind,
A mountain peak,
The heart beats faster,
Every eyelash,
Of your deep green,
Entrances me up here,
Every pore on your skin,
The glancing light from your nails,
With every faculty,
I am aware of the body beside me,
The tightening back muscles,
So new to this,
So unprepared,
The heart beats faster,
We have every right to this here.


Under a Tree I Tried to Talk Buddha Out of It

It's very nice,
To sit here alone,
To remember every crack in your pale skin,
And give that weak smile of pure gratitude,
Looking at the open black ceiling,
We are so far away,
From each other,
In the same room we run miles,
To keep you from seeing me,
To keep my selfish solidarity,
Will we ever come to the point?
I'm feeling the weight of the blood,
In my veins wondering why,
We run miles,
To keep from being seen,
The echoes snap on,
Pictures of a past we so yearn for,
Memories are so much better,
Than what I feel now,
Sifting through my unsteady hands,
Like sand, or of a finer grit,
The powder of what I wanted,
Out of life,
As a child I would shake my fists,
With rolled up sleeves and cry,
It was so right,
You got it so right,
We weren't going to have to do anything,
And now this,
And now we run miles,
To catch up with something we never quite defined,
But please don't admit to all you're tired now,
Oh please breath heavy into my ears,
Close your eyes and just once,
Look for me.


Tell Me We Have Lived

The hot, torrid air hung listlessly.
It bore down with a certain nonchalance, with the patient heave of one who is not concerned with time, who is content with the gradual advancement of its goal. The rusted cars could be seen beyond the terrace, whirling past each other on great arches of concrete. The birds became black statues on the telephone wires. Nothing moved that did not have to move. 
He let his head slip partially to the right, and his pupils followed as if they were tiny black marbles rolling in his eyes.
She stood in front of the dresser mirror, thrusting her stomach forward slightly. A plain white tank top was pulled up, revealing her fit midriff. It glistened from the heat of the day, and her hand cast a brief shadow upon it before coming to rest there. He saw the light over the unpainted hardwood, the last traces of the day, seeming to grow shorter as time disappeared. Not disappeared, but moved past them and on into eternity.
"Do you think it would be right, bringing a child into this world, as it is right now?" she asked, still facing the mirror.
He looked up at her from his chair in the middle of the room, seemed to ponder the question for a moment, then answered, "I would like to think so. The world may be due for some improvement. It took a pretty good round of hits when we were growing up, maybe a kid now would be able to ride that good wave in. It would be risky though, the world's bound to be turn south again not long after that."
She turned to face him, and it was all he could do to stand the fear in her deep brown eyes. She quickly turned back around, tucking a fit of black hair behind her ear. She watched her stomach. "You know I'm not usually this vulnerable. I usually carry my own phenomenally well, considering."
"I know."
"I don't know what things must be coming to, if it starts to bring down people like me and you. What must things be coming to..."
He gently slid the bow off the ground and began to play. The sun seemed to pause in it's decent, but of course that was only a misconception one feels at times. It sounded like Redemption, but that's just one interpretation. 
There were fewer birds now on the lines outside. The sun was almost gone, the last streaks of red wavering behind the rises in the land. He finished and laid the cello down beside him on the hardwood. 
She came and sat on his lap. He gently rubbed the small of her back as she sank down. The sun escaped with the last of the day while they sat in the open air.
Eyes closed, she whispered into his chest, "He could at least use something bigger than a one-room apartment."
"Who said it was a he?"
But she was already asleep, already a little French girl back in the countryside with her father, looking out at the blue, blue mountains. 

A Persistently Flashing Light

We forget,
That we can still surprise people,
That we can matter to someone else,
Like we thought we should,
But it rings in our ears,
The weeping soul,
For all the loss that has been ours,
Caused and felt,
It moves through all our thought,
A recurring stain on hope,
But we forget,
That we can still make children smile,
With hand gestures and morphed faces,
Human helicopter rides,
Around the empty apartment,
There is still something there,
Even though we hate ourselves for it,
There is still humanity,
Even though we don't deserve it at all.

It's Like That Break in the Clouds on a Road Trip

A warm night,
To believe in,
Everything seems hopeful,
If you close your eyes,
A feeble beauty,
Supports all that I stand on,
But a heavy current,
Carries us both through to space,
To Union,
To a welcomed sigh,
Of rest and happiness,
There is so much,
That I'd hate to be without,